I woke up from where I'd apparently fallen asleep on the floor and looked around in panic. Another nightmare. It was the same as it had been since...the incident. I saw him bounding for the earth and me being powerless to stop him. I saw his blood, covering the pavement, my hands, everything. His lifeless eyes staring back at me. I hurried to my feet and rushed to the restroom where I lost what little of my food I had left in my system. Once I'd finished I thought back to what lead me to be in this current predicament.

Roughly three months prior...

'What if I were to say that I love you, John?'

'I would ask where you're hiding the drugs, because you're clearly on something.'

'Would it be so wrong for me to love you?'

'Sherlock,' John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'You don't have to do this. I've come to terms with the fact that you don't and can't feel the same way about me. It's no big deal.'

'If it's no big deal, why do you look at me with such pain in your eyes when you think I can't see you? Why do you get so upset whenever I'm in danger or being slandered, or anything of the sort? Why do I do the same with you?'

'Maybe you're feeling a very close friendship, Sherlock. I mean, you've said yourself that you haven't had many...or any.'

With that Sherlock became silent. He then grabbed John's hand and placed upon his chest.

'Then tell me, doctor, why does my heart begin to beat at such a rapid pace in your presence? Why do thoughts of you cloud my usual crystal-clear mind and it doesn't bother me in the slightest? Why do I find myself not only changing, but wanting to change for you?'

'Sherlock, I...'

'Why have I wanted to do this?' He then leaned over and chastely placed his lips atop John's and the two shared their first kiss. When they'd separated, John looked up at Sherlock with an expression that Sherlock hadn't seen.

'John?'

'I can't believe this..."Married to my work," you said.' "...not really my area."

'What about your vehement and almost cyclical "I'm not gay" speech you've given everyone else?'

'Well, I'm not...I mean, I wasn't...I mean...' John sighed and gathered his thoughts. 'I've never felt this way about a man, any man, before you. Why could everyone else see what was right in front of us the entire time? Hell, Mrs. Hudson said so the first time she'd met me!'

'Perhaps, in this area, we aren't as intuitive as we could be.' Sherlock smirked.

'What, the Great Sherlock Holmes, admitting a shortcoming? I think Hell will be opening an ice skating rink soon.'

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and looked into John's cerulean eyes. 'So what does this mean?'

"It means we're partners, just in more ways than one.' John announced. The two shared a long hug.

Approximately a week later, they'd consumated their relationship. The next day, Sherlock committed suicide.

To John, it made no sense. One minute he was on top of the world, the next he was watching his best friend and possibly the love of his life discredit himself and hurdle himself from a building. How could he do this? Why would he do this?

He'd found out later that Mycroft had basically sold Sherlock out to Moriarity. John was furious. He had to be forcibly removed from the Diogenes' Club for breaking the nose of the British Government. The last time he'd seen Mycroft, was at the funeral where he darkly gave the threat of death should he ever lay eyes on the 'umbrella waving sack of shit' again.

Every day since has been filled with long nights of staring at Sherlock's belongings, to fits of tears and anger, to restless sleep due to nightmares. It was like returning from Afghanistan all over again, except with one difference. He didn't lose his heart in Afghanistan. Moriarity told Sherlock that he would burn the heart out of him, well, it looked as if Ol' Jim had missed his target.

Now he's learned that those nights he spent sobbing and vomiting into the toilet hadn't been solely due to grief. John was currently two months pregnant with the child of Sherlock Holmes.

John held up a clipping of a newspaper with Sherlock's picture on it and stared at it.

"Well this is a right mess, you've left me in. How could you...I want to hate you, want to curse your very name, but I fell in love with you damn it. I thought you had felt the same. If you did you wouldn't have...Was I just an experiment to you? Testing on how well you can convince someone of your acting skills? What could I have said or done to keep you from doing this? From leaving me alone again. You gave me a reason to live and then you took it away again, I don't think I can ever forgive you for that."

John looked around the apartment in despair. There were too many memories. He couldn't stay there, he had to get out and find somewhere else to stay, for the sake of his sanity and the well being of the life inside of him. He had to try to move on.

About 3 weeks later John found an apartment outside of London, not being able to find an affordable place on his own. He'd finished packing up his things and he and Lestrade were currently piling stuff into the detective's truck, when a knock was heard at the door.

"You expecting someone?" Greg asked.

"No, Mrs. Hudson doesn't normally knock, besides she's out of town. Said she couldn't stand to watch me go."

John slowly made his way over to the door and opened it to find none other than Mycroft Holmes standing there. John tried to slam the door, but Mycroft stopped it with his umbrella.

"Dr. Watson, if you'll just give me a moment of your time."

"What, Mycroft? What could you possibly want?"

"To give you what is yours." he then held out a document. John tersely took it and began to read it. Once he'd finished, he tossed the paper back over to the Elder Holmes brother.

"No," he firmly stated. "I don't want it."

"...but John." Mycroft began.

"What's going on?" Greg asked, wondering if he needed to step in.

Ignoring the detective's inquiry, Mycroft continued. "Look, John. Sherl-"

"Don't say his name!" John shouted turning a furious glare onto the suited man.

"He...would want you to have it. I want you to have it. Look, mistakes were made, but that doesn't mean they can't be at least partially rectified."

"And you think that by giving me an obscene amount of money will ease the guilt of what you did to your own brother?"

"Of course not, think of your future, John. Don't you want to give your little one the best?"

"Already trying to manipulate me by using my child against me? Wow, that must be a new low, even for you. I'm perfectly capable of managing my own finances."

"Like you were before you met my brother?" Mycroft countered. "You were alone in that small apartment, barely getting by. You think that you'll easily find work after the scandal that has been caused by your connection with him? Skilled physician you may be, but you know as well as I that it's more than that these days. I'm only trying to help, John. I'm not completely heartless."

To that John just scoffed.

"No matter what happened between us, I loved Sherlock. He was my little brother. Sure our relationship was strenuous at the best of times, but I never stopped caring for him and watching over him. What happened with Moriarity wasn't my intention and I go to bed every night with that on my conscience. I'm trying to do what's right for the man who made my brother a better and happier man, and of course my future niece or nephew."

John sat down and pondered everything he was being told. "So now what, you think you can just hand me a bunch of money and you can rest easy? Nothing you give me can take the place of what you've taken."

"I undesrtand, John. Please just consider the offer. Should you agree to accept, just give an affirmative sign to a CCTV camera. I understand that you may not wish to see me in person."

"I thought I'd made that clear the last time I saw you, but you just do what you want anyway, don't you? You Holmes men, you just do what you want with no consideration for anyone else. You don't care who you hurt..."

Mycroft just lowered his head a tad, his face was a stoic and blank as ever, though. He just gave a curt nod, picked up his umbrella and walked out of the door.

John leaned back in the chair he was now sitting in nd the familiar sting of tears forming in his eyes began. Greg placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and sat with him. No words were exchanged, but Greg knew that nothing he could say would help right now, all he could do was be there for someone who felt like his world was caving in.