Broken Soul

"I'm getting married."

Sherlock looked up from his violin, which he was playing softly and calmly, lost in thought (as he always did when there was no case). It helps me think, he had said to John, when they first met. It helped him think, yes, but it also helped him to relax and lose himself to the captivating music of Bach, Tchaikovsky, and others. He would surrender to the sweet music, entering his "Mind Palace", not a care in the world.

Sherlock's blissful moment was shattered as soon as those three, fatal words fled from John's lips.

It took a moment for the detective to compose himself. His heart rate accelerated, and it felt as if his lungs were collapsing. His hands began to tremble.

No, John couldn't see this. He couldn't see him, Sherlock Holmes falling apart. He had to calm himself before a full-scale panic attack hit. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply.

But when his icy blue eyes met John's soft brown eyes, the bow on his violin slipped in his elegant fingers, emitting a loud, painful shriek of a note.

John winced. "Sherlock…" He hesitated, biting his lip. "Did you hear me? I said I'm getting—-"

"Yes, John. I heard you." Sherlock snapped. To John, he probably just sounded irritated. Or could he hear the pain in his voice? After all, they were the best of friends. But so much more than that… for Sherlock, at least.

"Sherlock." John's voice was soft. "I… I know it will be hard for you, but…" He took a deep breath. "I'd like you to be there. For me. Please."

Sherlock's hold on the violin tightened. It was all he could do to keep the rising anger and sorrow at bay.

He said nothing.

There was a silence. Finally, John said, awkwardly, "Right. I'm off to bed. If… if you need anything, Sherlock, just let me know?"

No answer.

John sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Fine. Goodnight."

The day of the wedding, Sherlock awoke with the same feeling of dread and abandonment. How on earth could this have happened to him? To lose the one person he had ever loved? The only person he was sure he loved.

To never have the chance to spend the rest of his life with John, to kiss him, hold him, love him… was absolute torture.

And yet… John still wanted him to be there. And Sherlock would do anything to make his beloved happy.

Even if meant the most painful thing in the world - letting him go.

It was with a heavy heart that Sherlock took his seat among the guests, far enough away so that he would not be exactly face-to-face with John, but close enough to still see his gentle brown eyes.

He was disguised for the occasion, of course. Long black overcoat, fake mustache, and a fedora pulled low over his eyes - John would never mistake those sapphire eyes.

He watched out of politeness (and to not arouse suspicions) when she walked down the aisle, but then when Sherlock's gaze faced John, his heart began to break. John was smiling a breathtaking smile of exaltation, utter and complete happiness sparkled in his eyes.

Sherlock would've given his soul for John to be looking at him in that way - the look of complete devotion and unconditional love.

And when they exchanged vows, Sherlock closed his eyes, allowing himself to spend one last fantasy with Dr. John Watson. He imagined their life together, of secrets whispered in the dark, of promises, of sweet kisses, of solving cases. Of John's hand in his own, John's eyes, John's smile, John's lips, John sighing and moaning his name -

Sherlock's beautiful illusion shattered as he heard the next words spoken by the minister.

"If anyone believes that this couple should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Sherlock's eyes were still closed, but now he forced himself to keep them shut, lest he should open them and see their happiness, for it would break him. His hands, which were folded in his lap, now rested beneath his knees, crushing them, causing them to go numb. He bit his tongue, hard, breaking into the skin. The flow of blood filled his mouth, but it was nothing compared to the other pain. It was all he could do in order to stop the agonized cry of NO! fleeing from his lips.

He heart very slowly began to break as the minister pronounced them husband and wife, and then he could almost feel his heart bleeding as they rushed joyfully down the aisle. He flashed John a quick, sad smile, along with a soft, choked, "Congratulations", to which a confused smile - almost of recognition was returned, and then Sherlock disappeared from sight.

He ran as fast as he could up the stairs to to their - his - flat, and once he had slammed the door behind him and removed his disguise, the tears flowed freely.

Sherlock's legs trembled, and he collapsed, falling to his knees in agony. He gripped a fistful of his hair, hard enough to almost rip out a few locks of dark curls, as he sobbed aloud, surrendering at least to the grief and heartbreak that consumed him, the tears flowing relentlessly down his face.

"John!" He sobbed, cried out his lover's name in anguish, "Oh, God, John! I love you!"

Sherlock Holmes's grief was inconsolable, and his soul was fractured and broken - beyond repair.