A collection of Johnlock oneshots

Best Man

(A/N bear with it, it gets better - spoilers (inspiration) in the pic

Also thanks for 700 reads, love you 😘)

Sherlock stood, in front of the fifty or so guests that were also invited to the wedding. To his left, Janine, to his right, John. And Mary. John and Mary. That's what they were now. Johnandmary. Together for always. 'Till death do us part.

He was asked to be best man, obviously. And although it was unexpected, it was most certainly not unwelcome. He was totally surprised when John had asked him, it rendered him speechless. But, if anything, that was probably for the better. That way, he wouldn't show his disappointment.

But he had to make a speech. In front of people. About John. About his John. About the wonderful, kind, extraordinary, perfect man that used to be his John. And it was the hardest fucking thing he had ever done.

"I'm afraid John, I can't congratulate you." He stated, glancing down at the man in questions confused face.

"I... I thought I was able to handle this. But- I simply can't." he turned to face him, looking deep into his eyes. "I'm sorry John."

Sherlock hadn't planed this. He had queue cards, he knew what he was going to say, and it wasn't this. Too late now. He turned to face the congregation once more.

"I had always hoped that I would get to attend the wedding of John Watson."

He paused, taking a moment to compose himself. Now or never, he thought.

"However, I did not think that I would be attending as a guest."

He closed his eyes, scared of the confused faces that sat before him, trying to make sense of what he had said. They were all so stupid. So incredibly incompetent. He wished they weren't there. He wished it was just him and John. How it always used to be. Just the two of them against the rest of the world.

He heard a snivel from somewhere near the front. Mrs. Hudson. She understood. She had always understood him. She was the only person the whole room who knew what Sherlock was feeling.

He looked at her, hoping for reassurance, but all he saw was disappointment as she shook her head ever so slowly.

Had he got this wrong? Was he not supposed to have said that?

Sherlock didn't care. It was the truth. That's all that mattered.

He turned once more, ignoring the woman sat behind him, and looking directly at John.

He took a deep breath as he whispered, "John Hamish Watson, I fell in love with love you the moment you first told me I was extraordinary. But I was an idiot, I was blind, and I didn't realise until the second I stepped off of that rooftop. But, by then it was too late. I love you John Watson. Always have, always will."

Two silent tears ran down his cheeks as he let out a shaky breath and turned away. What had he done? He had just ruined John's wedding. What kind of a friend was he?

He spoke no words as he left the room, the silence deafening and endless.

Up the stairs.

Room number 235.

He swiped his key, entering and shutting the door as peacefully as he could.

Suitcase.

Zip.

Open.

Gun.

Hand.

Tears.

Love.

Hurt.

Pain.

Heartbreak.

Betrayal.

Death.

Marriage.

Loss.

John.

John.

Friend.

Best friend.

Goodbye John.

Bang.