Hey, guys! This is it. The last chapter. To be honest, this is the first time I have ever successfully completed a story. I have never had the motivation to keep writing. Thanks to you guys, I have actually finished a fanfiction and I'm proud of it. *pops party popper* Yay! I know this sounds sappy and fake but it's true. This is the first time I have had an audience read my work and it has been a great experience for me. I owe big thanks to commenters DissapearingKangaroo and Thilbo4Ever along with my family and friends for supporting me through writing this. Enough with the sappy stuff...Let's get started!

Oh, but first, I have written a Supernatural fanfiction that follows a similar plot with the stages of grief. (Don't judge me. I don't have many ideas! :( ) It takes place in the time after Swan Song and switches point of view between Dean and Cas. It may have some Destiel at the beginning, I haven't decided yet. Anyway...If you are interested in that please check it out.

Link:

Wattpad: 415233761-don%27t-you-cry-no-more-denial-dean

: s/12513295/1/Don-t-You-Cry-No-More

Archive Of Our Own: /works/11068755

*THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DIRECT QUOTES FROM THE EMPTY HEARSE. I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK AND ALL RIGHTS GO TO THE BBC*

2 years Later...John paced nervously across his small bedroom. He walked over to his bedside table and picked up a small box. A ring box. After weeks of stalling, John finally made up his mind. He was completely and utterly in love with Mary Morstan.

It was time for him to prove that.

He fiddled wth the small ring as he walked aimlessly around his house. He repeated the procedure he had spent his every waking moment preparing.

Mary Morstan, Will you Marry me?"

He practiced the phrase over and over until his mind got tired of the six-word phrase. He worded ad reworded it but it never sounded right. He never thought he would be saying those words to anyone. He had given up hope of getting married a long time ago. Even his best relationships never lasted longer than a month. He always did something wrong. He always messed it up.

He looked at the clock. It was 5:30. He had reserved dinner for six. It was time to get ready. John pulled out his nicest suit and prepared for the night ahead.

It took him about twenty minutes to prepare. His slightly used black suit was slightly wrinkled. It wasn't the best suit but he didn't have much money. It was the best he could do. The tight fabric was much harsher than the soft sweaters he was used to. He already missed the soft, knitted fabric against his skin. Tempted to change, he convinced himself that this is what Mary would want. Mary had never really seen him and a suit and he decided this would be a nice occasion.

John walked to the bathroom and checked himself in the large, metal framed mirror. He used a comb to groom his new mustache. The course brown hair refused to sit flat. Mary likes me more with a mustache thought John. It had taken him weeks to grow the hair to its full potential. He was proud of it. It was yet another sign that he had adjusted to his new life.

He combed hair gel through his hair with his hands, trying to part it perfectly before smoothing it down. After one last check in the mirror and a final spray of cologne, John decided he was ready. He checked his watch.5:45 thought John as he walked out the door, right on time.

John gnawed mindlessly on a hard mint as he got into the car. He found that it helped him to take his mind off his anxiety about the night ahead. The small black box sat in his jacket pocket, barely hidden from view.

On the car ride to Mary's house, he went through his plan multiple times. It would be a traditional proposal. After desert, he will give her a speech before taking out the ring. It was a simple task but John was terrified.

The ride to the restaurant was filled with apprehensive silence. He struggled not to look at Mary. Every time that he stole a glance at her, all the words were taken from him. His brain was wiped of all of its thoughts other than her beauty.

The elegant Italian restaurant was full of talking couples. It was a pricey restaurant and all of the customers were adorned with fancy suits and jewelry. John looked down at his wrinkled suit and suddenly felt underdressed. Mary didn't seem to mind. She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd as the waiter took them to the table.

Even in the cool restaurant, John could feel the sweat already covering the inside of his suit. He sat across from Mary. He couldn't stop looking at the glint of her deep blue eyes. Everything she did made John's heart fill with butterflies.

Every small detail was perfect in its own way. John loved everything about her. She was beautiful from her smudged eyeliner to her hoop earrings.

A few minutes later, the couple got into enthusiastic conversation. They talked about work and laughed about the different stories involving their coworkers. John shared some of the stories of weird patients he'd had working. Mary's bright laugh filled her face. John loved her laugh. It was expressed through every part of her face. Her cheeks lifted and millions of beautiful wrinkles across her face.

The conversation seized for a few minutes as Mary left to use the bathroom. As soon as she had left, John took a deep breath. He was about to propose and was getting more anxious with every minute. The roar of conversation around him was muffled by his neverending thoughts. He tried to relax before she came back. He knew that it wouldn't be long until his nerves took over. Just as he had started to relax, he was interrupted by his waiter.

It didn't look like the waiter that had seated them earlier. He was a tall man with pale skin and curly dark hair. His icy blue eyes were hidden by obnoxious eggshell glasses. Above his upper lip was a thin, black pencil mustache. He stopped at the table. "Can I help you with anything sir?" asked the waiter. He spoke in a thick French accent. John shook himself out of his dream state and answered him.

"Uh...yeah." replied John looking cluelessly the long list of drinks, "I'm looking for a bottle of champagne. A good one." John wasn't really an expert in champagnes but he wanted to impress Mary and put her in a good mood before he popped the question.

"Hm." responded the waiter as he pointed to some items on the list, "These are excellent vintages."

John looked back at him. That hadn't helped him and he was anxious to order the wine before Mary came back. "That's not really my area." responded John, hoping that he would get his message, "What do you suggest?"

The waiter's long sentences tested John's patience. "Well," he responded, "You cannot possibly go wrong. But if you'd like my personal recommendation... this last one on the list is a favorite of mine. It is, you might, in fact, say... " the waiter swiped his glasses off in one theatrical movement. "like a face from the past."

John looked across the room to see Mary leaving the restroom. Confused by the waiter and nervous to get on with it, John answered. "Great, I'll have that one please." he offered the waiter his menu.

The waiter took it saying, "It is familiar but with a quality of surprise."

John was now starting to get annoyed by his invasive waiter. Mary was almost to the table. Struggling to keep the annoyance out of his tone, he responded simply and quickly."Well.. ah, surprise me."

After a quick, "Certainly endeavoring to, sir." the waiter left. Relieved, John took a deep breath and watched as Mary returned to his seat.

"Now then," said Mary as she shuffled in her seat, "What did you want to ask me?"

John looked down at the wine bottle, trying to stall. "More wine?" he offered, motioning to the bottle."John's stalling didn't work

"No, I'm good with water, thanks." She responded as she took a small sip from her decided it was now or never. Words jumbled up his mind as he struggled to form sentences.

"So..." He began nervously, "I know we haven't known each other for long."John reprimanded himself in his head. He sounded so stereotypical. Seeing he was nervous, Mary urged him to continue.

John cleared his throat and resumed speaking "As you know, these past few years were not easy..."

Mary sat on the edge of her seat, a smug smile filling her face. She swallowed "Meeting you was the best thing that could have possibly happened to me"

"I agree." Interrupted Mary with a smug smile. john was not prepared for this."What?" He replied.

"I agree," said Mary overconfidently, "I'm the best thing that could have happened to you." Realizing how she had come off, Mary looked away, her cheeks turning bright pink"Sorry." she apologized.

John stuttered as he tried to get over the unexpected obstacle. Nothing he said made sense. He wanted to say it was okay but he could not form the words. "It's, um..." he struggled, "So, if you'll have me, Mary, could you see your way, um... if you'll see your way to..."

Before he could finish the discombobulated sentence, the irritating waiter interrupted again. He was holding a large bottle of champagne.

"Sir, I think you will find this vintage exceptionally to your liking. It has all the qualities of the old, with some of the colors of the new."

Now John was truly annoyed. How was he ever going to finish now? He struggled to try and get him to leave the couple alone.

"No, sorry, not now. Please," he said shooing him away. He was not getting the message though and continued his rant.

"Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers suddenly one is aware of staring into the face of an old friend."

Annoyed, John looked into the eyes of the waiter and prepared to do anything to make him leave. When he looked into the deep icy blue eyes, he stopped.

Something was...familiar. He knew that face... It took him a few minutes of looking at the man's features to realize who he was looking at.

He couldn't believe It. No...No, it couldn't be true. His eyes must be tricking him. In one small minute of realization, John was filled with all the emotions he had stored up for the past few years. Grief, Anger, depression, bargaining. It was all for this one man. This one man that was somehow in front of him.

Sherlock Holmes