A/N If you're as much of a shipper (and as twisted as a person) as me, this chapter is probably going to be even more painful than the last, yay!

Thanks to innenlebenaussenwelt, johnsarmylady, DuShuZi, Motaku1235, MapleleafCameo, Hummingbird1759, Orchfan, Ghibly101, Natalie Nallareet, and Rain-Malfoy10

Disclaimer I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters, events, etc.

LVIII. Kick in the Head

"Mary and I are—well, we're getting married."

Sherlock's attention flies up as he tears his gaze away from the wall, focusing wildly on John, who's watching him with a nervous sort of half-smile, his eyes gleaming with undisguised happiness. Sherlock, though, is far from happy. In fact, he feels nauseated, run through with an electric shock, and he forces himself not to gape, not to sound angry, but just slightly annoyed as his next words come pouring out.

"As if. You know that proposal's not going to last more than a few months. You two have only been going out for, what, two weeks? Three?"

"We've been going out for a year and a half, Sherlock."

"That long? Really?" he mutters, struggling to maintain the disinterest in his tone, even as his lungs and heart contort in all matter of directions. Married. Married. Married. "Are you… going to move out, then?"

A quick, eager nod. "Moving out, getting a real job. She has good connections, you know. I'll try to stay in contact, though—might even stick up a post on that old blog, if you ever get something really interesting."

"Right." Sherlock's speaking through numb lips, and he wants desperately to give his head a sharp shake, jar himself out of what must be unreality. It's… it's a nightmare, the words that are sinking into his mind, and he can't quite figure out why. He doesn't want John to leave, doesn't want to work alone, doesn't want to see that stupid little blog left abandoned. "Well. Enjoy."

"Oh, come on. You can't be at least a bit happy for me?"

"Why the hell should I be happy, John?" Sherlock finally hisses, glaring with twisted satisfaction as the smile fully melts away from his friend's face. "You—you're the only person that's ever… been close to me, and now…"

"Don't be ridiculous." John gives a nervous, clearly upset little laugh. "You… you still have everyone. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, Molly… none of them are going away, are they?"

"But you are."

"Like I said… I'll try to stay in contact…" He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes downcast. "Look, I didn't expect you to take it this badly. It's really not as extreme as it sounds… and I'm happy about it, I'm happy with her, I—"

"Good for you," Sherlock snorts, his voice dripping with sarcastic bitterness as he stands and paces towards the door, ignoring John's quick "where are you going?", instead stepping into the hall and continuing on down it, trying desperately to separate himself from the poisonous truth.