A/N: So I got tired of stories where Sherlock broke John's heart so I switched it... Yup... So, yeah, I don't own anything... freaking Moffat...
Sherlock knew the day would come when his perfect, little world would come crashing down. He just didn't think it would come so soon. He had thought it would be a sniper's bullet that separated him from Watson. He never would have thought it would be a case
Sherlock was undercover. It was harder than he thought it would be. He considered himself a master of disguise, knowing how to hide in plain sight. However, that had been shot to hell when he became internet famous. He had already bushed off 3 men, 2 women, and a transsexual with a flash of the obsidian ring on his finger. Of course, he was still getting used to it himself. His marriage (and the ring) was a mere formality to appease his mother. Yes, he loved his husband, but didn't think it was necessary to shove in everyone's face that the high-functioning sociopath was in a loving, committed relationship while they weren't. (He couldn't believe he wasn't shoving his happy marriage in Anderson's face… John always held him back when it came up)
Sherlock fiddled with the ring while never taking his eyes off his prey- SUSPECT! He meant suspect! The plan was simple, get the suspect drunk, flirt a little, get him to confess, call Lastrade ad lock him up. However, someone had sent Sherlock a pint of bitter. He didn't know who and wasn't planning on drinking it, but it was distracting. Who would send him a drink? This distracted him so much, looking for the culprit, that he almost missed his suspect getting up and stumbling toward the door.
This was his chance. He ignored his previous thoughts about the drink and splashed it on himself. Then, he "accidentally" stumbled into his suspect.
'Sorry, honey,'
'No, no… my fault, all my fault,' the other man said, 'It's always my fault,'
'Oh, honey, you can't mean that! Look at you! You're a handsome man! Nothing could be your fault!' Sherlock's phone went off. Probably John making sure he was okay. John tended to do that when Sherlock when somewhere alone. He ignored it.
'No! It is! I didn't mean to do it! It was an accident!' He pronounced it "ass-eh-dent" 'It was dark. I couldn't see!' Sherlock got the feeling this wasn't about the bump anymore. He silenced his phone again. 'So dark! How was I supposed to see?' The man was crying now.
'Oh, honey! It's okay!' Sherlock awkwardly hugged the drunken man. 'Who? What happened?' The man didn't understand him. Damn! He was so close to a confession! It was at this moment that the alcohol in the man's system took over and he kissed Sherlock. Full on the mouth. Sherlock tried to squirm away, but the man's grip was too tight. Eventually, Sherlock just let the man attack him.
Suddenly, the man was wrenched away from Sherlock. When he looked up he saw the man on the ground, obviously just punched in the face by John.
'John! Thank god!'
'What the hell, Sherlock? How could you?'
'John, what are you talking about?'
'We solved a case, yes. We were going out for drinks, I meant we could go together! I didn't mean, "Hey, Sherlock! Go get drunk and hook up with the first bloke that fancies you!" My god, Sherlock! We're married now!'
'John, I was trying to get a confession! He was drunk and kissed me! I tried to get away, but he was too strong! I'm not even drunk! John, I'd never cheat on you! You have to believe me!'
'I called and texted you, telling you to meet me here. You looked quite comfortable in another man's arms!' Sherlock checked his phone. Two new texts and a voicemail.
We found the guy. Meet me at the pub to celebrate.
Sherlock, why aren't you answering your phone?
'John, I am so sorry! But, I swear, I thought this man was the suspect. I would NEVER kiss anyone but you, willingly! John, please believe me!'
'Sherlock, I've put up with so much of your shite over the years. I thought that getting married would make you mature a little. Obviously, I was wrong,' He turned and walked out the door.
'John!' Sherlock shouted as his husband got into a taxi.
'No, Sherlock. I'll stay at Harry's tonight,'
'John,' Sherlock whispered as the cab drove off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.
Back at 221b Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson was trying to coax Sherlock out of his room with some tea. It had been 3 months and the consulting detective had hardly left his room. Lastrade had been by with five cases and Mycroft called daily to threaten to tell their mum. Nothing worked. The only words spoken were, 'No thank you, Mrs. Hudson,' and 'Bugger off, Mycroft!'
One day, Sherlock was lying on the settee. He was so wrapped up in self-pity that he didn't notice the door open until a familiar voice said, 'I can see your ribs again,'
Sherlock's eyes flew open ad he jumped up, pulling his dressing gown around his bare chest as he did. 'John!'
The consulting detective quickly examined his husband. Well fed, exercising-trying to relieve stress, Hasn't had a haircut in months, slight limp was back, left hand…
No… John wasn't wearing his ring…
John noticed Sherlock's gaze focus on the finger that once held his wedding ring.
'John…'
'Sherlock, please, don't do this…'
'Do what, John? Fight for our marriage? Last I checked, that's what people DO!'
'Sherlock, please… I've just come to gather my things,'
'That's it? You walk out, I hear nothing from you for 3 months, and now you're just leaving?'
'You never exactly came looking for me either!'
'I was giving you space! I was miserable!'
'I know… Mrs. Hudson called… a lot…' John replied quietly.
'Just give us another chance, John,'
'I can't, Sherlock… I just… can't…'
'Why not, John? Please, tell me why,'
'I've… I've met someone…'
'You've met someone?'
'Yes'
'Who?'
'Her name's Mary,'
'Mary…'
'Yes, Mary. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be packing,'
Sherlock didn't respond. He pulled on his shoes and coat and left the flat.
When he returned, John was gone. He found a note on the bedside table with John's wedding ring. Sherlock read it. And broke down crying. It was official… it was over… all he had worked for all those years was gone…
How? Injections wouldn't work… reminded him of drugs… Bullet would be too hard to acquire, John had taken his gun, less poetic as well… Pills… drugs again… Jumping was the only option…
When? 29 January. That was easy. The day they met.
Where? Bart's easy again. Where they met.
He had one week
'Goodbye, John,'
They found the note typed out on his Blackberry on the roof, with John's note under it and their wedding rings on top.
Sherlock-
Mary's pregnant. I'm sorry. I can't believe I was so stupid. I was angry and I had some drinks. One thing led to another and here we are. I love you, but I have to do what's right. There hasn't been a day that goes by that I don't regret getting into that taxi. If I hadn't, I'd still be with you. Still running around with the mad, brilliant, Sherlock Holmes… my husband… I would make sure you were fed, that you took cases, that you were never bored. I am so sorry. I love you, I do…
Yours, John
John-
I am sure that you believe that what you're doing is right. That marrying Mary is right because you got her pregnant. You regret getting in that taxi? I regret not going with you to Scotland Yard. I regret going to that bar by myself. I am sorry. I could have taken care of myself, I chose not to. I told myself that if I had a dire enough condition, you would come back and stay. I know that's selfish, I also know that my last act will be even more so. Never be sorry. It was my fault. It was always my fault. Goodbye, John. I love you.
Yours, Forever Yours, Sherlock
