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A/N I know, I'm horrible for not updating "My Screaming Laughter," but Sherlock has slowly consumed my life, and after the most recent episode just came out, and needed to let out my feelings about it. I loved the episode, it is by far one of my favorite. But it also made me want to bawl. The hurt that Sherlock portrayed in this episode, I just...Anyways, here's something I came up with to help me with my wayward emotions.

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Sherlock eyed them all, looking down on them with a kind of desperate need. When he caught sight of Janine, he thought maybe, just maybe this night wouldn't go to waste. He could feel the smile making it's way onto his face when he spotted her.

But then she indicated to the man dancing with her, he stuttered to a halt, and then took a step back.

Don't become involved, Sherlock.

Why hadn't he listened to Mycroft? Why did he never listen!?

He heard them all laughing, dancing, shouting out to friends and family. From the corner of his eye he made out John and Mary still dancing together, them looking to each others eyes with such love and need. And then occasionally John's hand would go to gently caress her stomach. When Sherlock had revealed the pregnancy to them, he hadn't expected to unintentionally exclude himself from their lives. But he had.

You won't need me anymore, with a real kid along the way.

You won't need me anymore.

You won't need me anymore.

Sherlock tore his gaze away from the sight. He searched desperately for anyone that might take him, help him fight off this impending loneliness. But they all had someone. Lestrade was with his wife, who had finally stopped sleeping around. Molly was with her fiance, dancing together with him, them both laughing. Mrs Hudson had sat in a chair, chatting up some old fellow who seemed quite interested her, and it was clear she returned that interest. And all of a sudden, Sherlock felt as if the roof was closing down on him.

Sherlock kept his eyes on the ground as he made his way to the stage. He placed the music sheet which he had composed especially for Mary and John in an envelope, and left it there for them to find.

From there, Sherlock made his way to the back rooms, got dressed, and then left. No one noticed as the lone consulting detective stalked out into the night, a shadow seeming to be hanging down upon him.

In hindsight, he mused, it really was his fault. He shouldn't have let them get so close. He shouldn't have become so emotionally invested in people. He shouldn't have let himself become attached.

If he hadn't of, he wouldn't currently be standing in his small apartment, watching the flames from his fire slowly flicker and die. He wouldn't be filled with such sadness and loss. He wouldn't be feeling anything.

Stupid, stupid Sherlock. I've told you time and time again. Emotions are not an advantage. I thought you learnt that from your little endevour with "The Women."

Sherlock didn't even try to silence Mycroft's voice. He just let it wash through him, take over his entire being, and drag him down further.

And then it was with startling clarity that Sherlock realized he didn't have to feel like this. He didn't need people. He didn't need emotions. All he needed was his brain and his addictions.

Mycroft's was right, he thought briskly. I shouldv'e listened for once. If I had of, If I hadn't of tried so hard to be accepted by their pathetic society, I wouldn't be feeling the way I am now. I shouldn't have tried at all. I should have stayed aloof and distant.

After all, he continued, his mouth pulling into a grim line, Alone is what I have. Alone is what protects me.

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A/N I may or may not continue this fic. Who knows? I really just wanted to get rid of all my feels. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review!