John had followed Sherlock out of the TARDIS, down the street and into 221B, but he hadn't been quick enough to follow him into his room which he'd promptly locked. John had stayed outside the door for ten minutes, but eventually, Sherlock was left alone to his thoughts and abused feelings.

That was thirty minutes ago, and still Sherlock sat in the windowsill, staring into his room because he didn't want to see the happenings of outside.

Rose was leaving him, in a way that was so final that he didn't even know what to think about it or how to feel. This was what she'd always wanted, a chance to return to the stars and he and the Earth were no where near enough to keep her grounded, not when a Time Lord was promising all of Time and Space, as well as the chance to live forever. Sherlock never stood a chance. But he had tried, foolishly he'd thought he could manage to be enough for her, if he just did the things even a Time Lord wouldn't do for her, if he just loved her.

Sherlock closed his eyes to try and breathe. As he took in a breath, it came out in a choked sob at the sound of grating engines and localized wind starting up and then fading away. They were gone. It took her a little over a hour to make the decision to leave him after everything they'd been through.

Sherlock's room didn't stand a chance against his broken heart. Within minutes his sheets were torn, his drawers were askew and his door had been broken, but it wasn't enough. All the pieces Rose had fixed in him, all his organized and finally controlled thoughts were unravelling in his mind. Sherlock's demons hadn't been destroyed by Rose, they'd been subdued and were waiting for a moment like this, now they were back in full force to make up for old time.

"Sherlock," a voice came from the hallway, but he barely heard it as he was too distracted with trying to find any drugs or nicotine under his bed or hidden in the floorboards. He didn't care if John came in the room now, a few words would have John leaving him alone for days and Sherlock was prepared to do that to be alone.

Sherlock was bent over pulling up his loose floorboard when he felt a hand gently placed on his shoulder, but he pushed it off roughly and turn around, a snarl on his face lasting only long enough for him to register who was staring back at him. Who was still in this universe.

"Sherlock?" Rose asked hesitantly, slowly raising a hand to his cheek, her eyes flitting back and forth between his with clear worry.

"Rose," Sherlock said, his voice raspy but he didn't say it with all the feelings he had because he didn't know why she was here. Even if she was leaving, she would be worried about him, even if she was leaving she could be looking at him like that. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here?" Rose asked, lowering her hand and tilting her head to the side. "You're here so I'm here."

Sherlock's heart beat in his ears at her words, but he stayed passive and staring at her. "And the Doctor?"

"He's gone," Rose smiled sadly. Sherlock moved past just staring at Rose and took her in, observed her, and he saw he splotchy face and drying tears. "We said goodbye after he helped me create a stronger, more reliable connection with my sister. He'll be driving her horribly back through the rip by now."

Sherlock frowned, confused and somewhat upset with what she was saying, was she insane? "You could have lived forever, with your Doctor, traveling your real universe, how stupid could you be to give that up?" Sherlock snapped at Rose. Rose glanced around the room, taking note of it and his state, before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck with a doting smile.

"Because I love you, Sherlock," Rose said. Sherlock didn't move, tried not to breathe, the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on grinding to a halt.

"But the Doctor-" Rose shook her head and interrupted him.

"The Doctor left me, Sherlock, after I searched and returned to him. I stopped loving him on that beach, because he broke my heart and refused to acknowledge it. I don't care that he found me again, or that he offered me the universe, because its not him I want." Rose paused and fiddled with the hair at the base of Sherlock's neck, distracting him from his torturous thoughts. "I may not be fully human, Sherlock, but I'm your partial human. I don't want to live forever, I just want your forever."

Sherlock continued staring at her, not comprehending her words. "Why?" He asked.

Rose chuckled and shrugged. "Because you're a genius, because you love and attract adventure and because within twenty-four hours you were calling me your equal. Mostly though," Rose whispered, leaning closer. "because you love me back just as fiercely as I love you." Then Rose leaned in and gently kissed Sherlock. It was enough to pull Sherlock out of his head so that when she started to pull away, he finally moved and pulled her closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Sherlock held on to Rose tightly, even after they stopped kissing, breathing her in and just enjoying the feeling of having her in his arms after fearing he'd never see her again. He didn't understand what she saw in him that would have her choose being with a high functioning sociopath over literally everything else. He was nothing compared to the Doctor, nothing compared to what the TARDIS could give Rose, but she was still standing in his arms listening to his single heartbeat.

"I love you," Sherlock whispered.

He was overcome with his affection for the blonde in his arms. He understood he didn't deserve her, but he was more intelligent than the Doctor in this aspect because he wasn't going to let anything, be it the universe or himself, push her away. Rose pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes shining with the words that didn't need to be said.

"I'm never going to leave you," Sherlock vowed. "So long as I'm alive, I'm going to always find a way to you, Rose, I swear it." He watched her eyes tear up, before she buried her head in his neck.

"Thank you." Her breath tickled his neck and he held her tighter, neither of them paid attention to the destruction Sherlock had caused in the short minutes he'd had to be brokenhearted or noticed John standing in the doorway, smiling at them.