It had been over a year since they started dating. Sherlock knew something this good couldn't have lasted. He hated himself for dragging both him and John through all of this, just to rip it away from both of them.
He was approaching the end of his final year at the Royal Academy. He had to start thinking about where he was going from here. He, of course, was leaning towards a graduate program. He loved performing more than anything, but he wanted to be able to do more. He wanted to be able to teach and spread his passion for music around wherever he went. He wouldn't perform all his life. Carpal Tunnel was sure to find its way into his wrists sooner rather than later.
And of course, Julliard grabbed his attention. One of the most prestigious music schools in the whole world, and he was almost certain that he would be accepted. Why, he was bloody Sherlock Holmes. Only barely in his 20s and already one of the most prestigious concert violinists of his time.
The Doctor of Musical Arts program was almost as though it had been tailored to Sherlock's very own interests. The more he read about the program the more he was convinced that it was what he needed. It would take him one step closer to being the very best musician he could be. Eventually he found himself browsing piano courses and performance opportunities.
John could get into this program easily. His talent is absolutely unmatched. He would just need help putting together repertoire for his audition, and he'd be golden.
He didn't know how to approach John and tell him that after he'd finally found the courage to confess his feelings, he's decided that he is going to run away to America and never return. That would surely keep the relationship steady.
But he knew that he had to do this. He had to tell John what he was planning to do, no matter how badly it hurt. So, he sent a text.
Hello John. I have an important matter to discuss with you at your earliest convenience. Please let me know when you can come over.
I love you. - SH 6:43PM
He let his phone slip out of his hand and thud against his desk, and he leaned back in his chair, groaning. He threw his hands over his arm over his face. A small part of him wasn't sure why he was so nervous. John would never ever tell him to not go after something he truly wanted.
Maybe that's what made him nervous. John always threw his own feelings under the bus just to make sure that he protected the feelings of others. He was absolutely going to tell Sherlock to chase is dreams and say to hell with his own, and Sherlock hated that.
Eventually his phone went off with John's response.
You know I hate when you send me messages like that, Sherlock. I'll be over there in an hour.
I love you too. – John 6:49PM
Sherlock smiled. It was almost too easy to get under John's skin. Was he the worst boyfriend in the world for doing these things to him constantly? Probably. John still loved him, though. Despite all of his flaws, John still loved him.
"Damnit…" he whispered to himself, his eyes stinging from tears that so desperately wanted to fall. The one good thing he'd managed to grab onto, and soon he was going to have to let him go. How could he do this?
Could he do this? He really didn't know.
As promised, about an hour later there was a knock at Sherlock's door. He opened it to see John, worry hiding behind his smile as he leaned in to hug Sherlock.
"Alright, what is the important matter we need to discuss? You've had me swimming in my own anxiety for the past hour, now."
Sherlock rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry. I didn't know how else to put it."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Eventually, it was Sherlock who broke it.
"As you're aware, in about six months I'm going to be done with the program at The Royal Academy. And, as you're also aware, I intend to continue my studies and earn a doctorate in musical studies."
"Yes," John responded cautiously. How could he not know where this was going?
"I've found that the program that best meets my needs is at… Julliard."
John's eyes lit up in surprise. "The Julliard? In the States?!"
Sherlock was unsure of how to take his response. "Yes, that is the Julliard."
"Oh Sherlock, that's incredible!" John pulled Sherlock into a tight hug. When they pulled apart again, John was all smiles. But Sherlock could still see the sadness in his eyes. "When do you apply?"
"The application is due in a few weeks. I'll have to travel there for my audition. And then, if I get in—"
"When you get in," John interrupted.
Sherlock blushed slightly as he continued. "If I get in, then… well, I'd have to move. To the United States. And, I'm not entirely sure how many years I would be gone."
John gave Sherlock a sad smile. "Well, obviously I'd miss you like crazy. But Sherlock, this is your life here. You can't put it on hold for anyone. If it's really what you want…" John paused as he took Sherlock's hands into his own. "You have to chase your dreams, Sherlock. For you. For me. For everyone who cares about you."
Sherlock couldn't hold back his tears anymore. As he cried, John pulled him into a tight embrace. He gently combed his fingers through Sherlock's hair, and assured him that everything was going to be alright.
What did Sherlock do to deserve John Watson? The level-headed doctor who always put everyone else above himself. Deep down he knew John was breaking, and Sherlock cursed himself for being the one to cause it. They continued to talk about it for the next week and John never broke. He never caved. In the end, he sat there and pushed the 'Submit Application' button for Sherlock because he insisted that he couldn't do it. His application was submitted. He'd be called for an audition within the following weeks.
How could John throw his own happiness away so easily for those he cared about? He refused to take Molly's position despite wanting so desperately to keep playing music. He insisted that Sherlock apply to Julliard, knowing that they would spend the greater part of these next few years separated from each other.
He was too busy helping others, he never opted to help himself. He was breaking, and Sherlock didn't know how to fix him.