It was the perfect night.

So far.

And it would only get better.

Hopefully.

John Watson was so ready. And so nervous. He shouldn't be worrying that much. He knew that Sherlock loved him, but still this was different. John was planning to propose.

It had been 9 months.

Well not really.

John and Sherlock had known themselves for three years and they had been a pair for 9 months. And today was the 29 of January. Exactly three years ago they met in Barts and it had been a ride for them both, but finally, after all these years they were finally together and John wanted to keep it that way. He didn't have to think about this for long. Sherlock was, even if it sounded cliché, the love of his life and he wanted to keep this man.

So John was going to propose.

And yes he was romantic. So he wanted it all to be perfect. He wrote a speech. He planned the night. And so far the evening had been great.

Sherlock was currently sitting in front of him talking about the different colors of trousers when you wash them with acid. John chuckled at one of Sherlock's scientific achievements and that was the moment when John just knew that Sherlock was perfect.

John loved Sherlock.

So here he was sitting in Angelo, the detective in front of him, the velvet box in his coat, the candle on the table. It was all so sentimental. He chuckled. Sherlock looked at him with a confused gaze because John really shouldn't chuckle when Sherlock was talking about severed arms.

"What?"

John smiled and looked Sherlock in the eyes. "Nothing." He winked with his hands showing that it didn't matter. But Sherlock didn't take it and narrowed his eyes.

"John, I am fairly certain that you shouldn't be laughing about cut off arms." With this John smiled again. But you really couldn't blame him.

"I wasn't laughing about the arms," John locked eyes with Sherlock, "I was just thinking about the fact that this is a bit sentimental for you. I would even say that this is one of the most romantic things I ever did."

Sherlock eyed him and John could clearly see his internal debate if he should reciprocate the sentiment or put on his cold mask. "Well I didn't plan this evening if I remember correctly, and I do, it was you."

"Still you enjoy it." Sherlock looked at him in surprise and then crossed his arms. "No I don't!"

"Yes, you do."

"Don't be ridiculous." Sherlock looked down at his plate, which was barely touched, John noticed, and poked around in it with his fork. They sat there for a while in comfortable silence. John looking at Sherlock.

His Sherlock.

Sherlock was still as stunning as the first time John met him. The curls were still as wild and gorgeous and John just loved running his hands through them. Sherlock's cheekbones were still sharp and Sherlock still looked beautiful all in one.

Suddenly there eyes met and Sherlock noticed the look in Johns eyes and blushed. It was adorable that Sherlock still did that after all this time.

"You're adorable."

Sherlock grunted but still blushed. Even more than before. John was about to say something to make the detective blush even more but Sherlock interrupted him.

"So what is this all about? You didn't do this just because." Sherlock ate some Spaghetti after forming his question and John was satisfied that the man ate.

"Nothing. I just thought that I'll have some fun with my boyfriend." Sherlock snorted at the word boyfriend.

"Since when do we use that?"

John took a sip from his whine and interlaced his fingers. "Aren't we together?"

"Of course but I thought we settled that we don't call ourselves that." John nodded his head in acknowledgment but didn't say anything. He eyed Sherlock again who had eaten a bit more. The streetlight caught in Sherlock's eyes turning them into something magnificent and Sherlock's pale skin stood against the yellowish glow of the light.

John grabbed Sherlock's hand and gently caressed his palm with Johns thump. "Would you mind doing something with me tonight? I still have something planned."

"I know."

John grunted. "Of course you do."

They finished their meal talking about murders, dead people, stupid people and just generally things ordinary people didn't talk about and then left the restaurant. John's heartbeat started increasing the closer he got to proposing and his hands got sweaty. He knew he shouldn't be this nervous, because he was sure that Sherlock would say yes, but it was only natural.

"So where are we going?" Sherlock asked. Sherlock of course had on his long and dramatic coat and his cheeks were a bit pink from the cold. Again John's heart swelled when he saw how cute Sherlock looked.

John buried his hands into his pocket feeling the box. "Baker Street. I wanted to look at the stars with you." John felt embarrassed. He liked looking at the stars and tonight the sky was clear. It was perfect. He knew Sherlock didn't know a lot about the Solar System, but like the man himself said he enjoyed the view. Suddenly John really was nervous. This had been a good idea in his mind but right now it sounded stupid. Ordinary. Boring. John didn't dare look Sherlock in the eyes afraid of what he would see.

Suddenly Sherlock started to laugh and John felt the blood rushing into his face. If Sherlock could just say something!

"John you don't have to be so nervous. Of course I will look at the stars with you, but only if I can do my eyeball experiment." John met Sherlock's eyes and saw the man smiling John smiled back and the tension in his body slowly decreased. "And… uhm… my answer is yes." With this sentence Sherlock looked away and was the one who nervously twitched his fingers. John was confused. Did Sherlock know that he wanted to propose? Probably. John smiled and took a step towards the detective.

"So you will marry me?" Sherlock looked at John and smiled.

"It's only logical." John hummed and wrapped his arms around the younger mans shoulders. "And because I want to." Sherlock continued. John stared up into the detectives face and smiled. He gently cupped Sherlock's cheek and brought the man's lips to his. It was a perfect kiss. The kiss was gentle and loving, not rushed at all. Sherlock's lips were soft and gentle and they felt incredible against John. John's left hand still cupped Sherlock's head but his other hand moved to the back of Sherlock's neck and he started to play with the curls. Sherlock hold John by the hip and slowly moved his thumb over John jacket. John was warm all over and he burned there where Sherlock was touching him. John sighed happily. This was probably the most wonderful moment in his life and all he ever wanted.

And never could have.

Wait…what?

John was confused by his thoughts and pushed them away as fast as he could. He wanted to enjoy this moment, but then Sherlock stepped back and John's arms fell to his side. John felt terribly cold without Sherlock radiating heat and John only wanted to get back to the detective.

"Sherlock? Is something wrong?"

Sherlock laughed a sad and broken laugh and looked at John. "There is nothing wrong with me, but with you."

John froze at the spot and he didn't dare move. He was afraid of what to come, because he knew, somewhere in his sub consciousness he knew. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock only shook his head and then was gone. It happened so fast John couldn't even react.

"Sherlock…" he cried after the detective.

"Sherlock…" the name was only a whisper in the silent room. John woke and sat up in his bed. It was dark and his clock confirmed that it was in the middle of the night. John was alone.

Sherlock was dead.

John brought his hands up to his eyes and forced the tears to stay. He sobbed a silent sob and felt alone. So alone.

Sherlock was dead. He jumped of a roof.

Sherlock would never say yes to him, because he was dead.

Sherlock didn't love him back.

John loved Sherlock.

And never could tell Sherlock.

Dream Sherlock was right. There was something wrong with him. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't lead this pathetic life. He couldn't mourn over a man that killed himself. He had to stop this. As much as it hurts to move on. John just couldn't do it anymore.

He couldn't dream of a fake relationship.

"Why did you do this? Sherlock why did you leave me?" John whispered into the night, but there was no reply.

"Wasn't I enough? We could have done this together. I always believed in you." John pressed a pillow to his chest and sobbed into it. Then he quickly grabbed into his nightstand and pulled out a familiar blue scarf. He buried his nose into the scent and drowned in it. It still smelt of Sherlock.

He stayed like that for a while. It could have been minutes or hours. He didn't notice. Eventually John fell asleep.

The next moring John texted the new nurse and asked for a date. Her name was Mary. She seemend nice.

John then packed the scarf away and hid it in the closet.

He needed to move on.

And that was what he did.

Even if it hurt so much more then to loose Sherlock.

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