A/N: Thanks to Jack of Chocolate for helping me with this, it probably wouldn't exist without her. 3 I hope you enjoy it! Please review.
Two and a half years and counting. John waits and waits, but nothing, not even a shadow. He meets Mary and falls in love anew because she has a bit of Sherlock in herself; sometimes reckless and seemingly uncaring but a collector of deep bonds. They get married, and it's been almost three years since Sherlock's death but he thinks maybe this will heal, ligature over a helpless battle wound. "Any objections?" The church pews stay silent as ever.
And then doors creak open. A shadow casts the brilliant white aisle. A voice, so familiar, so tender, so grounded, echoes through the dead quiet.
"Just one."
Those two words make John freeze. He can't believe his ears. That voice, the one he had missed so much the past three years, had ached for and cried over, he was hearing it again. He feels all the emotions return, and it was like That Day was happening all over again. The sight of that tall figure standing on the roof of the hospital, hearing the words "Goodbye, John," before seeing his best friend plummet towards the ground…
John snaps back to the present, and realized he had involuntarily taken several steps towards that beautiful voice. He turns to look at Mary. She looks hurt, so hurt, but surprise did not show on her pretty face, and John realizes that she knows.She knew all along. The man in the doorway had always had John's heart, and possesses it still.
He tries to communicate his regret, because he is truly sorry for hurting her this way. But he can't seem to help himself. John keeps walking towards the door, and suddenly he is running. He feels as if some strange gravitational pull is coming from that man, that man he had dreamed about and waited for for three long years, and John didn't dare resist. And the next thing he knows, he is burying his face in a blue scarf, and it smells of cigarettes and cold London air, and it's so completely right and he hears himself start to sob and laugh at the same time.
"Sherlock…" Somehow John manages to utter his name, and then he repeats it, over and over, because it's been so long since those syllables have rolled off his tongue and into his ears. He hadn't dared to speak his name in so long, and hearing it come from his own mouth makes him sob even harder. Sherlock is here, he's here and he's alive, so alive.
"I expected you to be angry," Sherlock murmurs, pulling away slightly to rest his forehead against John's, fixing him in the gaze of his ethereal eyes.
"Angry?" John parrots, because he had almost forgotten the colour of Sherlock's eyes, and he felt his brain go a bit fuzzy. "I am the furthest thing from angry." Sherlock smiles at those words and John's heart stutters.
A muttering of several voices is starting to grow louder from inside the church, and John suddenly remembers Mary. His heart sinks in his chest. He can't just leave her like this, but Sherlock's arms are still around him, and he doesn't seem like he's going to let go anytime soon. Sighing, he smiles apologetically at Sherlock and works his way out of his arms (which neither of them liked very much) and takes a step inside the church.
Mary is gone. Her family and friends are still there, though, confusedly talking amongst themselves. John catches sight of Mary's father at the end of the aisle, and he didn't look too happy. Avoiding the glare, he looks around the large, decorated room and something inside him snaps. Perhaps it was his sanity, but right then he decides that Sherlock is worth leaving all of this behind. Sherlock is more important to John than anything or anyone else in the world. No, that wasn't quite right… Sherlock ishis world, his entire universe, the shining star that makes John's life worth living.
He turns from the church, from his quiet, peaceful, normal life he had been living for the past three years, and took the hand of the life he belonged with, and together they walked down the steps.