Him?

221B Baker Street

A/N: So I just want to say thank you to Hannibael on tumbler for the post on Pinterest that started this whole thing, and the people on Pinterest who told me that my comments were amazing and to write more. I'm sorry it took me like 2 years to do 😭 but y'all's wish is my command. So please enjoy!!

     It was 4 am at 221b and Sherlock was working on his best man speech, the papers are all spread out on the floor among pencils and scissors. At first he's just writing. All the things he admires about John. His help, his reasoning, his company, his smarts, his incredible aim. Thanking John for saving his life more than once. Eventually he just starts to let it all flow out. He's telling John how great full he is for him. How he could never repay him for all the things he's done for him. How he's found his first true friend. How he didn't know how he could live without John. How scared he was every time he put John in danger. How terrified he was when he pulled John from that fire. How mortified he was when John told him he was getting married. John was no longer his, and he let all of those emotions, all the ones he was so conflicted about having, run onto those pages. Letters and letters of his innermost scorching emotions. Everything he's ever wanted to tell John.

It's 5 am now at 221b and Sherlock reads through the letters he's written John. He blinks away that stinging sensation in his chest and throws it all in the open fire. Sherlock was a mess. He had a week till the wedding and he cant just pull it together. He's let John down enough. He can't do it more.

He curled himself up in a ball on the floor. He was in the middle of counting the dust bunnies under his chair when he heard a voice behind him. "Why is it that every time I have a case for you you're in some weird position? I came in here yesterday and you had your self crouched over some cow eyes." It was Lestrad. And Anderson ... of course.  Sherlock piped up at the sound of case, he sat up grimacing at Anderson who just game him the same glare back. Lestrad pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked in. Anderson stood in the doorway watching as Lestrad handed Sherlock a very thin case file. Sherlock of course looked unimpressed. "What is this?" He said with a more than hint of disgust. "It's the only thing we've got right now Sherlock. You've solved everything else. Do you want it or not?" Sherlock tossed the file over to Lestrad at his feet and curled back up into a ball. Anderson, who had his arms crossed and was leaning on the door frame, rolled his eyes and started walking back down the stairs. "It's too early for his bullshit today. I'm going to wait in the car." Sherlock shot him a glare and pulled the edges of his robe tighter to his chest. Lastrad stood above him peering down at him.  "Sherlock, you texted me an hour ago saying that you were bored out of you're mind, calling over half of my staff, by name, and I quote, 'dim witted children, who are good for nothing other than just messing up perfectly good cases'." "57" "What?" " It was 57 minutes ago." Sherlock sprung up looking past Leatrad to see the clock. "I texted you 57 minutes ago. Well 58 now." He walked over into the kitchen and grabbed the kettle. "Okay?" Lestrad followed Sherlock into the kitchen. "Still, it's 6 in the morning and you need a case?" Sherlock slammed the kettle down onto the table slashing water out of it. "It's 5:58, and I'm stuck here writing about my feelings for John's wedding and I can't figure out what I'm doing. I'm losing my mind Lestrad." I can't tell him that I notice his limp every time I see him talking about the wedding. I can't tell him that I notice the twitch in his eye when he's stuck sitting at cake tastings. I can't say all the things I want to. I can't tell him how I'm feeling. Feelings I want to set on fire. I can't tell John. Of course he didn't tell Lestrad  all those last bits. But Sherlock's been stuck thinking them. 

Don't get him wrong. Sherlock likes Marry. She's a good match for John. She's got the same fire in her eyes that John does. It just seems to be more hidden away than his. She was clever, pretty, smart, sweet, but tough when she needed to be. She was perfect for John. She was everything Sherlock thought he couldn't be. But most importantly, John was happy. And Sherlock knew that no matter what happened that he's protect that happiness at all costs. He couldn't be his best man. He shouldn't be. John deserved better. But Sherlock would be. He'll be the best man. He would write the speech. He'll smile in the pictures and buy anniversary gifts. He'd do anything to make John happy.  And he will.