The Best Man

Choose

After a good forty minutes of Sherlock waiting outside John's room, sat on an uncomfortable chair with a blank expression, Mary emerged. She shut the door closed and leaned against it a moment, shutting her eyes and taking in a deep breath. She snapped her eyes opened, then looked over to Sherlock. He was hunched over in the chair, head in his hands, probably a million miles away. 

''Sherlock,'' she called, walking forwards and tapping him on the shoulder to attract his attention. Sherlock lazily lifted his head to look at Mary. He licked his lips, searching for moisture. 

''Is he okay?''

She nodded silently and took a seat beside Sherlock, instantly frowning. ''Oh, these aren't comfy. Pointy plastic.''

Sherlock nodded at her comment, not listening. He drooped his head again, his chin nearly touching his chest. 

''You're feeling guilty, Sherlock.'' Mary said, looking at him while she crossed her arms across her chest. ''What happened back at your house?''

Sherlock looked at her and all he could think about was how amazing it had felt to kiss John. How much his heart had swelled when John twisted his fingers through his hair. How he could feel both their hearts beating when their chests were pressed together. Or, maybe, the surprising softness of his lips in such a heated kiss. ''Nothing happened. He just got mad at me because of...'' Sherlock sighed. ''Well, like you said, I'm very thin. And, I shouldn't be living like this...All that caring lark.''

She frowned and sighed. ''Well...you really upset him.''

Sherlock grimaced slightly and looked away from Mary once again. ''Look, Mary-''

''No, you get in there and you sort it out!'' She snapped and Sherlock looked back, slightly surprised at how angry she sounded. ''Whatever happened made my husband be in a car crash. I've forgiven you for a lot, Sherlock. And you've forgiven me too, but I don't take kindly to my husband being in a car crash. You've harmed him enough.''

Sherlock gaped at her. ''You're making it sound like I do this on purpose!'' he replied, his voice shaking from anger. ''I don't set out my days saying 'Oh, how do I hurt John today?' !''

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose. ''Look, I'm sorry, Sherlock. Would you please just talk to him?'' She opened her eyes. ''Reassure him somehow. He's so worried about you.''

Sherlock stood, smoothing down the front of his coat and taking a breath. He walked forward and placed his hand on the door handle. He turned back to Mary for a moment. ''You don't think I should see him anymore, do you?''

She looked at Sherlock, pausing before she spoke. ''...We'll talk about it later. I don't think you should stop seeing him. He...You're his best friend.''

Sherlock took in a calming breath and nodded, before opening the door into John's room. He stepped in, suddenly shivering, and he wrapped his coat around his torso tight. ''You wanted to see me?''

John looked up from staring at his lap and stared at Sherlock's face. He swallowed and licked his lips, mouth dry. He gave a small laugh. A hollow, bitter and tired laugh. ''We shouldn't have kissed.''

Sherlock felt a small jump in chest as the words hit him and he looked down instantly, biting on the inside of his mouth and pressing his lips together. He let the pain tighten into his chest along with everything else and he looked back up to John, nodding and clearing his throat. ''Probably not.''

John smiled sadly at Sherlock and beckoned for him to sit by him. Sherlock swallowed painfully and stepped forward, sinking into the slightly more comfortable armchair than the chairs outside. He looked at John. ''You really shouldn't have done that, you know. What if you had been seriously hurt?''

John laughed softly, with a hint of disbelief. ''Says you. You're the one who's been slowly trying to kill yourself. You're a bloody idiot, Sherlock.''

''No, don't you turn this back on me. I'm not the one in hospital.'' Sherlock shot back.

''Maybe you should be! Have you seen yourself lately? You look like a fucking twig! You cannot do this to yourself.''

Sherlock groaned and slid down in the armchair, he raised his hands and covered his face, letting out a loud, frustrated noise. He quickly pulled himself back up and leaned forward in his chair, looking at John's face. ''John, I can't. I literally can't go on. I can't think anymore. Everything I am feeling is with me every single second that I am awake.'' Sherlock sighed and drooped his head down. ''I should've jumped off that bloody building for good. Sure, you would have been upset, but you found Mary and you were happy again. I would never have had to put up with-'' Sherlock let out a noise almost like a squeak.

John stared at Sherlock, biting his lip. He was so worried. He was so incredibly terrified that Sherlock would hurt himself, or even end his own life. He felt guilty even though he knew that none of this was really his fault. Partly, maybe...And, he felt selfish because he was very much so thinking about himself. He didn't want to have to go through that pain again. He could not live any longer if Sherlock wasn't living and breathing. ''Sherlock, you can't do that to me. You just can't.''

Sherlock looked up at John. ''I would say the same to you.'' his voice broke. 

Sherlock's words hit him hard and he let out an annoyed sound, shaking his head. ''This can't continue, this thing we have going on-''

''My point exactly!'' Sherlock cried. 

''Yeah, but you don't commit suicide, Sherlock!'' John scolded, his voice raised. ''You talk about it! We can work through this and fix it! Let's try be rational!''

''You don't think I've tried? I have gone through every outcome in my head. Someone always gets hurt. Nothing good can come out of this. Ever. John, I...'' Sherlock shook his head and shut his eyes a moment. ''I love you.'' he whispered, looking at John.

John's face twisted in pain and he looked away, sitting himself up straighter. ''Sherlock, please don't...'' he said, eyes on the wall opposite. His voice was thick. 

Sherlock just kept looking at him. ''I do.'' he said, a slight hint of colour coming into his voice. ''I'm so sorry it took me this long to realise. But, I do. I love you.''

John let out a dry sob and looked back to Sherlock. ''I love you too.'' he said in a small voice. 

Sherlock let out a short laugh, and among all his pain, just to hear John say those words, he smiled. A sad smile, yes, but a smile nonetheless. He nodded at John and sniffed, dropping his gaze to the hospital bed. ''What are we going to do?''

John looked at Sherlock a long while. That smile on his face. The most sincere smile he had ever seen Sherlock wear and Sherlock didn't even realise he was doing that. The first time he had seen him smile genuinely in so long. The little sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a moment. And, seeing this made everything clear for John. He took a deep breath. He didn't want Sherlock to get his hopes up. Everything was still complicated. But...

''What are we going to do?'' John repeated his question. ''I have to choose.''