Sherl Shots

The Best Man: part two

I feel something cold on my forehead as my eyes flutter open. I see a blurry John hanging over me along with a concerned Mary beside me. Please, Mary. Just leave me alone. You're a wonderful person. But you stole my life away.

"Hey, Sherlock." John says with a smile. Stop smiling. You're making me sick.

I sit up, pushing John's hand off my forehead. His hand was holding a cold, damp cloth which I soon deduct was the cold thing on my forehead.

"Erm, I'm sorry. I have no idea what's come over me." I say as I get up, buttoning my suit jacket and ruffling my hair.

"Are you okay?" Mary asks. Of course I'm okay. Stupid question to ask.

"Yes, yes. I'm quite alright." I say hastily with a wave of my hand.

"Sherlock." John says and I shift my gaze to him.

"How much have you had do drink today?" He asks as he puts the cloth back in the ice bucket.

"Alcohol or...?" I wonder.

"Alcohol and water." He affirms.

"Well, I lost count of the champagne but I know I've had about five hundred millilitres of water." I explain.

"Okay, well. You're going to have salt water for the rest of the night." John informs.

"For the dehydration." I nod.

"Is he going to be okay?" Mary asks John as she clings onto his arm.

"Yeah, he'll be fine." John says to Mary, sending me a look.

I know that look. I know it all too well; it's his 'I don't want to be here' look. Why would he give me that look on his wedding night? What do you mean John?

"Hey. Some people are asking questions out front." Lestrade says fro the door. I turn to look at him.

"Oh, hey Sherlock. You feelin' better then?" He asks.

"I- er. Yes, thank you." I say with a nod.

"Okay then. One of you need to get out here." Lestrade concludes as he leaves the room.

"I'll go." Mary says.

"Mary-" John protests

"It's alright, John. I'll be fine." She smiles before leaving. Now it's John and I and I never knew how difficult it was to repress the urge to kiss someone until now. Until this very moment.

John smiles at me but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Are you-" I want to stop myself from asking but I can't "Are you okay, John?"

John turns to face me, his face displaying the obvious signs of surprise but there's something else there too.

"Yeah, no. Yeah, I'm good. I'm great actually." He forces a chuckle as he sits down makeshift bed he made me with chairs.

I hesitantly go to sit beside him. He moves up just an inch and I don't know why; but it hurts.

"I- erm. I'm... sorry." I say reluctantly "For doing that in the middle of my speech."

He shakes his head "It's okay. I wanted an excuse to get away in any case." he smiles at me.

I stammer a bit before sighing "What do you mean?"

I see him tense up then chuckle lightly "Everyone's smiling out there."

"I see. Their smiles are mostly well faked and you absolutely despise a fake smile. There's an added aspect of-"

"Everyone except you." he interjects.

"Pardon?" I say, my brows knotted in confusion. He sighs ad runs his hands over his eyes.

"I'm so confused, Sherlock." he says exasperated.

"I'm sorry. I'll smile if it makes you feel better?" I ask, feeling my heart ache.

"No." He says, locking eyes with me "Tell me why you aren't smiling."

My breath hitches in my throat as I roll my shoulders "I just... I don't want to smile. Too much work."

He laughs disbelievingly "That's bull, Sherlock and you know it."

I close my eyes and sigh. /what will you say now, brother mine?/ Just keep quiet, I need to think. /time's running out Sherlock./ Yes, I'm aware. /it's ticking away. slipping from your grasp. what are you do Sherlock?/ I don't know! /you can't run this time. you can't./ I know, I know. /what will you do then?/ I don't know... /at a loss for words now. you've kept quiet for too long. he's suspecting you./ Don't you think I know that?! /you'll have to come up with something soon brother mine./

"Sherlock? You okay?" he asks.

No, not okay. Definitely not okay. /oh, Sherlock. you always were weak./ I'm not weak! /yes, you are. you always have been./ I haven't! /you have! you can't deny it! the proof stares you straight in the face and what do you do?!/ I run from it! Goddamn, I run from it! /yes! you run from everything, Sherlock! from your life, from your love!/ I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. /pathetic./ I know. I'm sorry. /you're grovelling Sherlock./ I know.

"Sherlock? You're beginning to freak me out." he says with a little chuckle as he places his hand on my shoulder. Don't do that. It just hurts more.

"Come on. Sherlock?" He asks, shaking me a bit.

"I love you, John!" I cry as I burst out in tears. His hand doesn't move from my shoulder as he stares off into space. I sob as quietly as I can, trying not to alert anyone.

"So y-you..." He trails, still staring into space.

"You love me?" He asks, finally looking over at me.

"D-don't say a-anything. J-Just shut... shut up." I sob.

"Okay." he says and gets up then kneels in front of me.

"Damn i-it, John. Get off y-your knees. The f-floor is c-cold, they'll feel horrible l-later." I say as sobs make me stutter.

He takes my hands in his, rubbing small circles on them with his thumbs.

"Don't d-do this, J-John. It's n-not fair on me." I beg, closing my eyes.

The next thing I feel are his lips on mine and I know it's wrong. I know I should push him away, I should tell him off for doing this to Mary. Tell him he's not gay and that I'm married to my work. But I've been throwing these lies around for as long as I can recall.

I kiss him back desperately, my tears flowing freely down my cheeks. Sobs wrack my body and escape my mouth, crawling into the creases of his lips. I feel his hands on my face, drying my tears. I've waited my whole life for this moment. For this very moment, this small piece of time. I can feel my heart swell in my chest, taking up far too much room making my lungs feel compressed. If this is how I'm to die; then I will gladly accept it.

But these aren't my lips to kiss. He's not my man to hold. He's not my John. In the end; he was never my John.

I pull away from him and rest my forehead on his.

"Why'd you stop?" He asks breathlessly. I smile lopsidedly and look into his eyes, my hand resting on his cheek.

"You aren't mine, John." I whisper damply.

"What does that mean?" He asks as I get up, leaving for the door. I look over my shoulder at him.

"It means; I love you and I always will." I say with a crack in my voice then run out the door, the cold air drying my tears as they slide down my cheeks. Here I am; in all my glory. Running, once again, from the things I can't face.

unedited.