It was a dull restaurant, the typical 'romantic' dim lighting with candles floating around on the walls to light it up a little. The sweet smell of a mixture of different Italian foods filled Sherlock's nostrils as he walked through the door. Eyes quickly roaming the room he spotted John almost immediately, sat at a little table for two right at the back with a little attractive blonde. John's laughter was quiet compared to the constant talking of the people around but even this far away Sherlock could hear it ring through his ears, he'd almost forgot what that laugh sounded like.
Champagne was brought to John and the mysterious woman's table and John's face fell, it was still glowing with happiness but it also looked a little nervous. Standing tall before dropping to one knee he smiled shakily and Sherlock felt his heart physically break. He couldn't concentrate on the words any more, all he could hear was his own heart pounding in his chest. John spoke a few words before the woman jumped out her seat and hugged him tight, they were both crying tears of joy as he spun her round like they were in a stupid romance film, before kissing her firmly on the mouth.
Sherlock felt someone tap his arm, breaking him out of his trance to realise a waiter was asking if he wanted a table, without replying he dashed strait outside onto the street before hailing a cab. Mind in a whir he didn't care where he was going, he just needed to get away, far away. He never though John would move on.
Sherlock didn't sleep that night, he just wondered around the streets of London with no set destination. Thinking. So many thoughts. Thinking of the memories of them together, thinking of the times he made John laugh like that, the times he made John smile, as well as all the times he got John hurt and made him cry. It was 3am when finally he came to a conclusion, and that was John was happy, and that's all that mattered.
Pulling out his new phone he did a bit of research to find out who the woman was before getting "Mary's" number and texting her a short but blunt message "Please take care of him, because I couldn't".
Mary never thought about the text, presumed it was a wrong number, until a year later on the day of the wedding an uninvited guest turned up, sneaked in during the service to sit at the back of the church, covering his face with some form of hat and scarf, she didn't know who he was or why he was their as he slipped out before she could ask but who ever he was he did left a note where he sat saying "Thank you".