Us, we, they and them: all plural.

I, myself, me and moi: all singular, lonely and stating the obvious that the person in question has no partner, no friends even.

It's a peculiar feeling when you realize that you are alone. When it suddenly dawns on you that if you were to die tomorrow, who would stand up and say nice things about you? Who would cry and start begging God to bring you back, who would cause an emotional scene in front of all your work colleagues and make them feel uncomfortable for watching someone else's misery. Who would miss you?

I am not one to lie around my house, moping about and feeling sorry for myself but today I felt as if I deserved a little self-pity. Today he would marry her. Today he would be officially over me and officially married. Of course he had sent me an invitation, a plus one in fact. That had been like a slap in the face, he was mocking me. He knew that I still loved him and that there was no way I could bring another spectator to the occasion that would break my heart. She would never understand why I didn't come, wondering why his best friend wouldn't make an appearance at her husbands wedding. I would probably be black listed but so be it. I couldn't do that to myself, couldn't feel that kind of pain all over again…

"Me and Mary, we're engaged!"

He had exclaimed it with such forced enthusiasm that I had laughed at him in an almost spiteful manner. His voice was carefully excited as if not to hurt one's feelings, the kind of voice that he would use if I had told him that we were exploring the sewers in hope that we might find some evidence that would help us close the case that I had been working on. When I had laughed, he had glared at me with contempt.

"Why must you rain on my parade? Why can't you be happy?" he had demanded, those intense eyes watching me reproachfully.

I didn't give him an answer; he didn't deserve one for such a stupid question. He knew why I would never be happy for him and his 'wife'. He knew that it was nothing personal towards Mary but that he was simply my soul mate and I didn't like the idea of another woman coming along and rubbing salt in the wound and so soon as well. He had grown frustrated and grabbed his jacket, limping out of the room, showing the one weakness that the war had left him with. I had poured myself a drink and sat curled up by the window, watching him hobble down the street until his darkened silhouette turned into a dot and his dot into nothing…

"Do you think she'd like this ring?"

He held up some sort of miniscule diamond that one would have to squint to see. His face looked so concerned, so worried that my heart had almost melted. Why couldn't he be looking for jewellery for me? Why couldn't he be asking one of his other friends this question but with me being the one that he would refer to?

I nodded slowly and then shook my head.

"Something bigger, make a fuss of her." I had answered truthfully. His face had fallen at these words.

"I don't have that kind of money…" he mumbled.

I pretended that my friend hadn't admitted that information to me or else I would grow worried that a good respectable doctor couldn't afford a decent ring because he may have succumbed to his strong love of gambling. I picked up the ring that I thought Mary might like, flashed a quick look at the owner who was dusting some silver pieces and pocketed it as quick as lightening. Watson's eyes had widened with shock and I saw his mouth moving as he tried to open it to protest but I silenced him with a look. He nodded and followed me out of the shop after we bid farewell to the keeper. Once around the corner and away from prying eyes, I popped the ring into his hand and smiled at him, a genuine one for once.

"She'll love it. I'm sure of it.

Before Mary we had been companions, lovers. He had been the only person that I was content to spend my days with and I had honestly believed that I had been enough for him. Our carnal relations had always been more than satisfying and Watson had never once complained or told that he wasn't getting enough out of those pleasurable experiences. I had been comforted by the knowledge that John and I had been level and that we were both equally contented, so when he had uttered the words:

"Its over Holmes. My apologies but this is not the kind of activity that a respectable detective and doctor should find themselves partaking in."

I. Was. Broken.

But I of course, had taken it all in my stride and had agreed with Watson and told him that he was correct. Then I disappeared for three weeks and upon my return Mary had greeted me. That was the final blow. I had been convinced that there was nothing more he could do to hurt me but my God was I wrong.

"I miss you."

He had whispered those words not a week before his wedding. He had been bandaging my ribs as I had cracked one during a very exhausting battle with a midget and his four dogs. At first I shall admit that I was struck dumb by his admission. His soulful eyes were staring deep into mine as though he were willing me to announce that I too had felt his absence and begged him to stay with me. But my pride was too much. I had taken a pull from my pipe and smiled at him condescendingly.

"What a shame Watson. You'll get over that soon enough though, I'm sure. After all, Mary shall make a fine wife."

And that was when I had cut my nose off to spite my face because John's eyes that had been barely hiding desire suddenly turned resolutely clear as he tightened my bandage and smiled at me.

"You're more than right Holmes, as usual."

Pain surged through me as I realized too little too late that those three words had been John's way of trying to get me to make him stay with me, something he was more than willing to do.

He tied my bandage and left the room without so much as saying goodbye.

"I miss you too…"