I do not own Sherlock

This is not a fanfiction about Johnlock or Sherlolly.

The story is written by two people. Each paragraph is the work of one of us. You can follow us on Instagram: .rule (my co-worker) thinking_benedict (myself)

We both are not native speakers so please forgive grammar or spelling mistakes.

Enjoy the story :)

Without you

The last note was played. Sherlock looked up. The whole room was clapping. But the only thing that mattered to him was John and Mary. They both smiled. Happy. Sherlock looked around. Everyone was beginning to dance. Even Molly turned away from him. He was alone. Again.

He tried to observe his favourite details about John one last time, but all he could see was how John was looking at Mary. His eyes full of love and happiness. The way he hoped John would look at him someday. He couldn´t say he wasn´t happy for them. He was, but the heave feeling he had in his chest was much stronger than any happiness he was feeling for John.

He had to turn away. It just hurt too much. One last gaze and then he took his coat and went out. He remembered when John told him, friends protect people. But that wasn´t true. John didn't protect him. His only friend left him.

Memories flooded him as he tried to sneak his tall figure out of the building without being noticed. He hoped to feel John´s warm hand on his shoulder, turning him around and saying "Where are you going, Sherlock?" But that never happened. Sherlock walked into the chilly night thinking of the first night him and John went on a case together. The very first day they met and he managed to help John forget the pain in his leg.

And then there it was. The voice he wished would say that he shouldn't leave. "Where are you going, Sherlock?" But it wasn't from the voice he desired to be. It was female. Slowly he turned around. Molly was looking at him. A worried expression was on her face. She came closer and whispered. "Why do you leave the wedding of your best friend earlier? Don´t you want to celebrate this special day with him?"

Sherlock nearly threw himself in Molly´s arms and started helplessly sobbing, but he thought better of it. Molly knows how you feel, some voice kept saying in his head. You´re pathetic, he told himself. He shook his head, as if to physically get rid of the thoughts and tears that were bothering him so much. He had to say something, but he knew his voice would crack and he didn't want it to happen in front of anyone, let alone Molly who was so good at reading him. So he didn't say anything. He just shook his head and dropped his head to his chest. Molly seemed to know exactly what he meant. He felt her fragile hand caress his forehead and beneath his pitch black curls.

He started to tremble. It was so hard to hold back the tears. But not here. And not in front of her. "Sherlock, he is happy. You should be too. You deserve happiness. More than anyone else." He still didn't say anything. If he would, he would break down. All his coldness and his self-control were gone. John had changed him to...to a human being. Sherlock Holmes had feelings. Because of John Watson, the man who left him alone the moment he needed him the most.

"I can´t be happy, Molly", Sherlock snapped letting out the word "happy" like it was an insult. "He is gone. I...I...can´t..." And that was it. He broke down into a weeping, sobbing mess and Molly just stood there and patted his back and caressed his neck, which she could barely reach. And then he cried. He cried for what seemed like hours to him.

"Sherlock, you are not alone", said Molly smiling at him shyly. He looked up and met her brown eyes. They looked caring. Also a bit happy. Was she proud? "What?", he asked confused. Molly just smiled and whispered "You told me about your feelings."

Sherlock didn't know how to tell Molly that no matter how good of a friend she was, she could never be as good as John for him. Although Sherlock Holmes was known to be a heartless bastard who didn't care for anyone´s feelings, John Watson had made sure to change that. Now Sherlock couldn't just speak his mind without feeling bad for hurting Molly´s feelings, so he gave her a half smile and murmured "Thank you for...for what you did for me but I need to get out of here", and with that he turned on his heels and walked away as fast as he could.

"I love you" He heard a whisper. Soft and insecure. But it wasn't Molly´s voice. It was the voice of a man. The man who made him happy. Day after day. Over and over again. Sherlock turned around, seeing John. But he wasn't looking at him. The words he said he told his wife. Suddenly John and Mary realized that they weren't alone. Awkwardly John turned red but his wife didn't. She just stood there, smiling. "What are you guys doing out here?" Sherlock didn't miss the wink Mary gave Molly. This scene was confusing the hell out of him.

Sherlock looked back and forth between John and Mary. John looked uncomfortable and so did Sherlock. He was certain he couldn't take anymore of this. He let out a scuff without realizing it and started walking again. He expected John to follow him, to at least call his name, but he never did. It was the moment that Sherlock thought there was nothing left to him. He felt so empty and hollow. He walked out into the road and hailed a cab. He got in and quickly gave the address to the driver. Then he leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes.

"What´s this all worth for?" he asked himself. Sherlock couldn't stop thinking about Molly. She was great but would never be enough. And John? He didn't even care seeing his "best friend" walking away. The cab stopped. Sherlock paid and got out of the car. As fast as he could, he ran to his room. Looking after it. The material thing that was there for him when John wasn't. His eyes went dark of lust when he finally found it. Quickly he grabbed the injection and put the whole dose in his arm. Some moments later he felt his body getting warmer. He stated to relax and closed his eyes. Finally he felt free. Sherlock let all memories with John cross his mind. But then suddenly he heard a voice. Far away but still there.

"Sherlock", the voice shouted. He felt a steady hand on his cheeks, holding his head in place as another hand forced his eyes to open. "Sherlock, do you hear me?" "Yes John", he said weakly. John´s hand went to his back pocket quickly but Sherlock wasn't having any of that. "No. Don´t do it John. For me", he gripped John´s had as hard as he could. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I want this John. You have to respect my choice." Sherlock was positively sure he was hallucinating John, because the real John would never just sit there and watch him die. Or maybe he would, Sherlock thought sadly as he watched John give in and sit on the floor beside him. He´d never know if this actually was John.

He shifted with so much effort to put his head in John´s lap. John´s hand caressed his messy curls and moved to wipe the stupid tear that escaped Sherlock´s eye. He looked magnificent despite the situation he was in. Moonlight was coming in from the window and it was like a blanket of silver upon Sherlock´s pale skin. John took the time to admire everything he never let himself notice about Sherlock before. His high cheekbones, his eyes with that heavenly colour, the shape of his lips...

John was humming Beethoven´s Moonlight Sonata under his breath. How fit for the situation. Sherlock´s voice pulled John out of his thoughts. "John, I need you to know...that you are the first and only person who touched my heart. You made me feel things I never was capable of before." He took a long breath "From the moment you walked into that room, I knew you were different. John, you were the only one who never called me a freak. You were the one who made me feel normal when everyone else thought I was a weirdo. I want to thank you for that. I always knew I wouldn´t have a long life and I want you to know that I´m fine with you being the reason for me staying alive for more years that I thought I would and also being the reason of my death. I´m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I just need to know if you feel the same", Sherlock said all this in an agonizingly slow pace, stopping between each word to take a laboured breath.

When he saw the guilt on John´s face he wasn´t surprised. John didn't feel the same. He knew that would be the case, but it still hurt so bad even though he was high. It just hurt so bad.

John was crying. And Sherlock was crying and he felt guilty for ruining John´s wedding night. For making his anniversary a day he would have to visit Sherlock´s grave. At the same time he felt a little bit good about it, selfishly wanting John all to himself. Sherlock took a careful look at John´s face, trying to absorb every detail he could. He didn't believe in an afterlife, but if there was one, he wouldn't want to face it without a last memory of John Watson´s face.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took one last breath. Then stopped breathing. John Watson tried to drown all his guilt in the kiss he pressed against Sherlock´s cold forehead.