It takes exactly 15 seconds for John to realise Sherlock's missing.
He's glanced over to where he expects Sherlock to still be standing, but he's gone.
Vanished.
His heart seems to suddenly sink. He looks back at Mary, who's watching him with a hesitant smile, "John, you okay?"
"I…um..." His gaze roams the people dancing around them, but there's no sign of him anywhere. He frowns when his eyes land on Molly, who's on the other side of the crowd in a group with Mrs. Hudson and Tom, and she looks over with a grim expression; even from this distance, he can still make out the words 'he left' falling from her lips.
Oh no.
John immediately lets go of Mary and her smile drops, "John?" She tries to find his eyes and reaches a hand out, but he's pushing through everyone and uttering 'sorrys' under his breath. It's only when he gets to the door does she take his arm and he's forced to look at her, and he doesn't realise he's panting until Mary speaks,
"What's wrong? What's happened?"
John takes his phone from his pocket, "Sherlock left."
She frowns at him as he checks his messages, "Why would he do that?"
He shakes his head, ignoring her and fumbles for the door handle, "I'll be back soon." Before she can say anything more, he kisses her cheek then takes off into the hallway, a cold dread slowly seeping through him.
Please no.
The door to 221b is unlocked.
There's nothing but silence from upstairs. He takes the stairs two at a time, his stomach tied in knots. Please, please, please…
When he gets to the landing, his knees just about give out beneath him from the relief that floods him. Sherlock's stood at the window with his back to him, dressed in his sweats and silk gown. His violin is held in a loose grip against his side as he stares out at the street below. Though John's breathing loudly, and it's now clicking that he must have seen the cab stop outside, he hasn't moved at all to give a sign that he knows he's there and John doesn't step inside, only watches him as he slowly lifts the violin to his chin and starts playing a steady, sad melody, which John immediately picks up as a rendition of his and Marys waltz.
What...
John puts a hand on the doorway and sighs, his voice low, "Sherlock…."
Nothing. Just continues the song. John presses his lips together, swallowing. The soft, warm glow of the room is a stark contrast to the cold shoulder Sherlock's currently giving him and it makes him snort in disbelief,
"I know you can hear me." He pauses, but still Sherlock pays no attention to him whatsoever and he shakes his head as he inches into the room, "Look, Sherlock, I know you're not the most sociable person in the universe, but it couldn't have killed you to stay a bit longer…"
Silence.
John snorts, "Right, well, I can't stop you." He turns to leave, but at this, the music stops abruptly and he moves back in time to see Sherlock putting the violin away, watching as he clicks the case closed before straightening up, and Johns heart squeezes when he sees utter sadness on his face, and though his eyes are still that ever pale blue, they're dim against the light.
Johns mouth goes dry, "Sherlock, are you okay?"
To his surprise, he goes back to the window and clasps his hands behind his back as he stares at the street below. John doesn't move from the doorway and his fingers are curled around the bannister. When a few seconds pass, he steps carefully into the room and makes for his chair, lowering his head onto his chest to wait for Sherlock to speak, and when he does, his voice cuts easily through the silence.
"You know I'm not - good with feelings, John. So...um...this is difficult for me to say…"
John clears his throat, "It's okay, take your time…"
The quiet stretches between them for what feels like ages. John watches as Sherlock drums his fingers against his knuckles, lowering his head then raising it as he thinks on how to get out….whatever he has to. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he knows in an instant that it's from Mary.
"It's not important."
John meets Sherlocks eyes in the reflection, "Hm?"
Sherlocks shoulders roll, "The text from Mary. It's not important."
"Oh. Right."
His gaze clips back to the street and John sighs, his hands resting on the soft fabric of the chair. Another beat of silence.
When he speaks again, his voice is soft and he doesn't even glance at John this time, "The speech I gave, it...wasn't everything I wanted to say. Though Lestrade had initially helped me, I had learnt from a few books that it's best to speak from the heart and...that's exactly what I did…" He trails off, almost confused at what he's admitting, "But it was almost an hour long, so obviously, I had to cut a few things out."
John swallows. He feels like he shouldn't be told this, like he's intruding on Sherlocks private thoughts, "Oh. Was that...was it easy to choose what to keep in?"
Sherlocks eyes crinkle, "Yes. A lot of what I wanted to say was too...personal, too…" He pauses, "Us."
Johns eyes dart across his curls, "Us?"
"Mm."
"What do you um…" He clears his throat, "What'd you mean 'us'?"
Sherlock taps his fingers again, "I had to re-write the beginning. Initially, I had started by quoting the tabloids. Using our 'nicknames' and how everyone we encountered thought you were gay…"
Johns face flushes. He's suddenly thankful that Sherlock didn't turn around to say all this, "Oh...uh, right. It's...good you changed it then."
"Mm, I agree." He hesitates, "I also said that we had talked about marriage, and…" His voice falls away again, and he blinks but picks it up as if realising where he is, "And how we had discussed it a few times…" He stops, and his eyes linger on Johns face in the reflection, but it goes unnoticed by him.
John nods, "Okay…" When Sherlock doesn't continue, it quickly dawns on him that he's waiting for a response, "Oh...yeah, that would've given them something to talk about." He forces a laugh, but it sounds strangled, and he clams up.
"You think it was good that I took it out?"
"Y-Yeah, I mean - who knows what the media would have done with that." Again, a weird sense of 'intruding' comes over him, but he squashes it down and keeps his gaze trained on Sherlocks curls.
Sherlocks voice is quiet, "I'm glad you agree…"
"...Mm. Was there anything...else you left out?"
"Yes, I...I said a few other nice things."
John snorts, "Nicer than me being a good cook or how you could go on about my jumpers?"
He doesn't see it, but Sherlocks face goes a light pink, "Yes, remind me not to go off script when you have your next marriage."
"There's not going to be another marriage, Sherlock."
"You don't really think you're going to be with Mary forever, do you?" John opens his mouth to speak, but Sherlock waves a hand, "The honeymoon phase is fleeting, John."
John narrows his eyes, "Was insulting my commitment to Mary that difficult to do?"
Sherlock glances at him, "What? Oh, no, um I...actually had more to say."
Though they're on the brief topic of marriage, John suddenly has little if no desire to go back to the ceremony. Surely if Mary's worried, she would have called by now. And despite having a constant knot of unease sitting in his gut, John isn't exactly running to the door to leave in any haste. In a way, he's interested to hear what Sherlock's been preparing to say to him the whole time he had been gone.
But he can't help himself. While Sherlock's staring out the window in thought, he digs his hand in his pocket for the phone and he can see Sherlock glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, but he ignores it and clicks the screen on.
I'll meet you back at the flat, shall I?
He taps a hurried reply then clicks the phone closed and drops it back in place. He almost misses the small smile Sherlock gives him, but chooses to brush it off as he waits for him to start speaking again.
"Was there more you had to leave out?"
Sherlocks eyes dart across the glass, "One more thing."
"What?"
"I said a few words about Mary."
John frowns, "Hope they weren't bad."
Sherlock grins, amused, "No, actually. Maybe I should have kept it in looking back…"
"And what were they?"
"What?"
"The words you said about Mary."
"Oh. Right." The smile slips from Sherlocks face as he recounts them all, and the pink in his cheeks slowly brighten, but again, John doesn't see this. He tries to come off as nonchalant as John watches him, "They were just words, really. I found them in a book under the chapter of nice things to say about your best friends fiance."
John blinks, "Did you?"
"No. Internet."
"Ah. And they were…"
Sherlocks gaze holds on the street lamps across from him as he recites them, almost as if he's giving his speech again, "Intelligent, beautiful, talented and deeply caring."
John smiles, and his face softens, "It's a shame you didn't keep that in."
Sherlocks heart misses a beat, "Yes…"
He hesitates, then to Johns surprise, spins around to face him for the first time since he'd got there, and John's stunned to see the sadness is still present in his features, though his eyes have gotten a shade brighter. His body's strangely tense as he sets his gaze on John, who's frowning at him in curiosity.
"There's more, isn't there?"
"Not concerning the speech, no." He slowly exhales before thinking on his next set of sentences, and Johns phone buzzes in his pocket. But he ignores it. From how Sherlocks behaving, and his body posture, this must have been what he had been pondering over, and the cut outs of the speech were only the tip of the iceberg.
Sherlock nods to him, "What would you consider to be the most important day of your life, John?"
Johns brows furrow, "My wedding day. Obviously." He laughs, "Why, what about you?"
Sherlock smiles warmly, "Our first case."
John falls silent.
That...god that hadn't even occurred to him at all. Only today had been on his mind, how wonderful and beautiful it had all been with Sherlocks speech and him and Mary dancing to their own waltz. Although an incredibly unforgettable day, the first day him and Sherlock met had been it's own whirlwind of moments in of itself.
Maybe he had been too quick to answer.
His face seems to say it all, because Sherlock replies before he can say anything, "It's alright, I understand. Marriage is a huge chapter in anybody's life." His voice is full of reassurance, but there's something different underneath that John picks up pretty quickly, and a foreboding sensation comes over him.
Before John can sutter out an apology, an explanation, Sherlock cuts in and his voice is soft, almost reminiscent, "I still think about it sometimes."
"What about it?"
"Well...I cured your limp, for one." John smiles, "We became friends. You met my brother, we ran around London, you also discovered I had a drug habit which does pop up now and again. We had dinner too. Twice. Never got to finish the first…" He hesitates.
"Meal?"
Sherlock nods, "Yes, meal." A pause, "Do you remember what I said at Angelos?"
"How girlfriends weren't your area, right?"
"I also said..."
John frowns, "Something about how you knew it was okay to have a boyfriend?"
There's a lull, and Sherlocks eyes search him, but he doesn't carry on, and John looks away to re-think that evening….
"You…" John chooses his words carefully. Not incase of insulting him, but worried over if his memory will serve him correctly, "You never said boyfriends weren't your area…" His brows knit together, "You thanked me when I said it was fine if you did have a boyfriend…"
The gears are turning in Johns head, and Sherlock can almost see them. Still, he doesn't push him to get the answer right away and just lets him figure this out on his own. Sherlocks body is more tense than ever and he can't stop tapping his fingers together. He knows John is completely okay with this, but that doesn't erase how terrified Sherlock feels right now, and for a quick moment, he wonders if John can sense his panic.
When it finally connects, Johns brows lift and he stares at Sherlock in utter astonishment. He purses his lips together, his voice soft, "Sherlock…." He sighs, "Why didn't you tell me?"
In an instant, Sherlocks eyes fill with tears, "I...I don't know." Because he really didn't. He had had no real reason to keep this from John. But it was still something he felt needed to stay secret. Not because it wasn't of any importance, but because it was something so personal of himself that simply sharing it to anyone, regardless, was a heart stopping experience.
John smiles as he wipes a stray tear from Sherlocks chin, "I'm really proud of you."
Sherlock bites back a genuine smile, though his face is shining, "Thank you, John, that...means a lot."
In one second, John's pulled him into a warm hug. Sherlocks arms go around him and he squeezes him once, making John blink back his own tears. He speaks into his chest as Sherlocks cheek rests on the top of his head, "You're still the best human being I've ever known."
Sherlock laughs, "Thank you. You are too."
John smirks and there's a comfortable silence between them as they just let themselves live in this moment for a bit. Johns phone doesn't go off and the front door doesn't shut, indicating Mrs. Hudsons return. They can give themselves permission to have something like this, even if it is to be short lived.
Fortunately, it is when John speaks again, and his voice is muffled against Sherlocks chest, "When did you know?"
"I had a friend at University; Victor Trevor. We were roommates. He was, I think, the first person I had felt...anything remotely close to romantic for."
"Do you still keep in contact with him?"
Sherlock smiles, "No."
"Why not?"
"It...was a messy breakup. We were too similar, I think. You would've liked him."
John laughs, "I'd like to meet him one day."
Sherlock gently draws away, but still keeps John at arms length, and his face is the most serious John thinks he's ever seen it, "No you wouldn't."
John frowns.
"You'd get attached to him like I did, John."
Johns ignores the red in his cheeks, "Why would that matter?"
Sherlock exhales, "Victor...was smart. He did and said a lot of terrible things to me that I didn't take notice of until Mycroft told me about it later. We broke up because...I started to see it." His eyes search Johns, and his face becomes suddenly soft, "I don't want that to happen to you, too."
John looks him over for a moment, before nodding, "Okay." His phone buzzes in his pocket and he automatically reaches down to grab it, making Sherlock take a few steps back. He reads it and his shoulders slump, "It's Mary. She's wondering where I am." He types a reply back, but still keeps the phone at eye level, "It's pretty late. I should be getting back…"
Sherlock smiles shyly, "You could stay tonight." John lowers the phone to look at him, "The cabs don't run at this time, and it's a 30 minutes walk." He hesitates, "I should mention however, that when you moved out, I converted your room to another lab so you no longer have a bedroom."
John sighs. A wave of sudden fatigue breaks over him and he shakes his head, "Alright...yeah, I'll stay here tonight. Just...gotta tell Mary…" He deletes his response to put a new one, and presses send as Sherlock frowns.
"Where will you sleep?"
John scoffs, "The couch? I know it's not ideal, but I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
Sherlock narrows his eyes in thought, and there's a beat as it slowly processes in Johns mind. He snorts, "Seriously?"
"You can't sleep on the couch, John. You're not a guest."
John yawns, "Fine."
It's 2am when John finally gets some much needed shut eye. Sherlock's still lying awake beside him, listening to Johns soft snores in the dark as he replays today in mind and files away the most important moments. The speech, saving Major Sholto, any and every moment John was beside him, John coming back to Baker Street, Sherlock coming out to him, John accepting him and hugging him…
As he gets to the last shot, tears begin to well up in Sherlocks eyes and he hurriedly wipes his face before they stain his cheeks. He takes a shuddering breath, and John stirs beside him, turning over so he's facing him. To his surprise, Johns eyes slowly open to land on him, and he smiles softly at him,
"Sherlock, you okay?"
Sherlock swallows, now feeling a lump has formed in his throat. From all that bloody emotion. John laughs quietly and carefully swipes some tears away, "You thinking about what happened yesterday?"
"...Yes." Sherlocks voice is a whisper, and John puts a hand in his curls.
"Sherlock?"
"Mm?"
John exhales slowly when he feels his heart begin to speed up, "I love you."
Sherlock smiles, and it's the brightest smile John's ever seen from him, "I love you, too."
"You alright?" He smooths his curls down, then moves his hand back to his side.
Sherlock nods, and that's all the confirmation John needs to roll on his other side to fall back to sleep. As he's drifting off, he feels Sherlocks arm encircle him and pull him gently to his chest, and John smiles when Sherlocks chin rests atop his head.
There were a couple of things Sherlock hadn't told John, such as him also saying Mary deserved those same qualities (intelligent, beautiful, talented, deeply caring) in the man she were to be wed to, and that John had been the second person Sherlock had felt any romantic attachments to, but, really, they didn't exactly need to be said.
Because...John already knew all that, didn't he?