Author's Note: Hey! Sorry it took me a bit to write this chapter. I just wasn't sure where I was going with the story. So, I made the logical decision and here's chapter 6 inspired by Fix You by Coldplay.

Enjoy!~

Watson fidgeted with the table cloth. The restaurant was one of his favourites and he had many memories throughout the room. They didn't comfort him tonight.

He knew that in just a few minutes, Mary would arrive. And he would tell her to cancel the wedding. He didn't want to lie, so he decided he wouldn't give a reason. Perhaps she would read his silence.

His heart was pounding and he could feel his pulse in his ears. He wiped his brow and inhaled deeply. When he closed his eyes, he thought of earlier that day, waking up next to Holmes in the afternoon. His hair a wild mess and his lips chapped and his scruff all making a beautiful picture. John focused on that image, of waking up next to Sherlock for the rest of his life.

He saw her walking across the dining room towards him. She was stunning in a lovely red dress and a string of pearls around her neck. He stood and pulled out her chair. She kissed his cheek in greeting.

"Hello, John," she breathed into his ear before sitting down. "I've missed you."

"You saw me yesterday."

"But you were so distant. I know the wedding planning is boring. It's nice to have time to ourselves, finally."

John shuts his eyes again. Sherlock is still there, awake now, his eyes glittering. He mouths the word courage.

"Mary-"

"I think about you all the time." she said, placing her hand on his forearm. "I can't wait to have you to myself."

"There's something-"

"Do you think about me too?" she moved her hands up his chest to his face. John backed away.

"I can't do this any more, Mary." He doesn't look at her then.

"I beg your pardon."

"I can't marry you."

"Yes, you can."

"No." His eyes locked hers. A tense silence fell between them.

"Why?"

His heart nearly breaks because he can't tell her. He holds her gaze, wondering if she can see the truth in his eyes. He wants her to see, to expose him. She doesn't.

"Why, John? Is there someone else?"

He can't watch her fall apart. Her eyes had welled with tears and her cheeks had flushed with what he suspected was rage.

"I thought you loved me."

The words shattered on his skin like shards of glass.

"I do love you. It's not enough."

"Try harder."

"I have tried so hard that I've nearly broken myself." He stood. "I can't any more. I'm sorry."

John started to leave. In the back of his mind, he heard her say something. Then glass shatters. He guessed her rage had begun.

Why did you lead me on? We were to be married this Sunday. Why did you wait until now? Am I not good enough? Did you even love me? Do you like my tears? You broke my heart.

Watson heard Mary's unspoken words as he walked back to Baker St. He had hoped the walk would clear his head, but all he could think about was what he had thrown away. A lovely wife, a family perhaps, all sense of normality, a beautiful home, safety. To gain the love of his life.

Love is expensive, he thought. Is it worth the price?

From outside he can make out Sherlock's window. Through it he can see the man in question playing his violin by the fire. John knew the answer then. Yes. Holmes would always be worth it.

John went inside and reached the top of the stairs. Before he can knock, Sherlock's door swings open and he's dragged inside. Sherlock's begun kissing him, pinning him against the door, their bodies flush together.

He could tell Sherlock knew. He always knew. As though his mind were an open book.

The kiss felt wet and he realised he's crying. Sherlock brushed away his tears with his fingers, sucking on his bottom lip. John grabbed Sherlock's hips, pulling their groins together. He wanted it all hot and fast, mind-blowing so he can't think. But Sherlock continued in slowly lazy circles with his tongue and hips. John tried to speed things up, but Holmes broke away.

"You need to feel." he said and Watson is just confused. He is feeling. "Even your pain. Let me help you."

"I just want to feel you." John replied.

"You're so broken, John." Sherlock touched John's face, tracing soothing circles into his temples. "Let yourself go. I'll take care of you."

They kissed again and John could feel himself breaking down bit by bit. He felt pain and fear and love and heartbreak and hope and joy and arousal. All the emotions crashed down on him and he gasped for air.

Sherlock moved his lips down to John's neck and chest, kissing right over his heart. John sobbed and held onto Holmes tightly.

"It's all too much," he managed to whisper.

"Just feel. It'll be all right." Sherlock gave Watson a comforting kiss. "I will try to fix you."

"How?"

"By loving you."

Tears streamed down John's face. He had lost something he could never replace. But he didn't want to. What Holmes was giving to him was far more precious than anything he could have hoped for. And though he was broken, he knew that Sherlock knew how to fix him.