To Be Like That Of A God

In The Name of His Happiness

"You knew?" Sherlock asked in a voice that almost wasn't a voice; it was a croak, aimed at the back of the ashamed head of John Watson, who was now lingering by the armchair in humiliation. It was almost as though he hadn't wanted to do that, almost as if he regretted it the moment he pulled away. Was there something wrong, something off about this kiss, something that made it unsatisfactory?
"I guessed." John corrected in a small voice, sounding so far despite his relative closeness. Sherlock nodded, pursing his lips and glancing down at the floor in shame.
"It was obvious?" Sherlock clarified. John simply laughed, and Sherlock could almost detect a smile, he could almost sense it.
"Plain as day." John assured. Sherlock nodded nervously, wondering just how many others were able to pick up on this apparently revealing secret that he had tried so hard to repress. Oh what did it matter anyway, for he was about to lose everything he had just gained to a woman he didn't want to look at much less marry! This was all pointless, was it not, this was all just turning the blade after he had been stabbed, inflicting the pain so that it was much greater than the initial wound. Sherlock was just now learning what he might have missed had he not gotten on his brother's bad side. And now he had to go and learn the alternative, the worst case scenario, and lock himself into the cage in which he will sit for the rest of his miserable existence.
"John I felt...I felt as though you needed to know." Sherlock admitted finally, picking up his gaze to stare at the back of John's head, knowing that the man wouldn't turn to him if he knew that Sherlock was watching. For some reason Sherlock was happy that he was turned around, it was much easier to talk to the back of his head than to stare into his beautiful hazel eyes, the taste of his lips still lingering, and try to think of something intelligent to say. And yet all the same there was something hallow in it, almost shameful, as if John didn't think himself worthy to stare into Sherlock's eyes, that or he didn't want to see Sherlock at all.
"Did you regret that Sherlock?" John wondered, scuffing his heel against the floor and yet staying otherwise motionless.
"Regret that, oh no, John that was the most magical moment of my life, John that wasn't what I was talking about when I said I was being forced into something." Sherlock assured, taking a step forward and yet stopping himself in his tracks, realizing that John may not want him closer.
"Then what were you talking about? This party, was it not all for me? Was it not just an excuse to get me here, standing there by the fire? You and your seduction, I still can't wrap my mind around what this is all for, why you want me." John admitted, sounding almost angry as he stared at the ground.
"John I want you and yet I cannot have you..." Sherlock insisted.
"Turning your pity into love...mistaking your sympathy for lust..." John growled quietly, muttering through Sherlock's denial, refusing to listen to his rebuttal.
"John I must propose, tonight, to Molly Hooper." Sherlock admitted heavily, breathing out the words as though they were poison, and they did indeed sting. They stung the lips and the heart, and evidently they stung the ears of the poor John Watson, for he turned so quickly that Sherlock almost took a step back in shock.
"To Molly Hooper?" John clarified, taking a step forward to which Sherlock just took a quick step back, stumbling over his feet and yet regaining his balance rather quickly. He wasn't quite sure how to take this right now, John had seemed so angry previously for his interest in him and yet not that Molly Hooper was in the picture, now that John may have unnecessary competition, well he now took the time to play defensive boyfriend.
"Mycroft has forced me to do it, he says that I need to marry for money and for influence, he keeps going on about the heir of the Holmes fortune..." Sherlock felt his eyes begin to well up for a moment, tears brimming along his eyelids as he thought of the painful life he was going to lead, living and loving just to benefit himself and his family. To let that woman, that dreadful woman, share his house and his bed only for the sake of the Holmes family fortune.
"That's horrible." John murmured, his anger suddenly dissolving as he realized what a desperate situation Sherlock was in. Sherlock could only nod, trying to keep from opening his mouth so as to ensure that no sobs escaped. It was horrible, it was indeed, and yet Sherlock was slowly starting to wonder if there was really anything he could do about it. It seemed hopeless, a chasm opening up at his feet that would swallow him either way, he couldn't run, nor fly, he simply had to hold his breath and wait for the fall. And John would be waiting on the other side, waiting in vain, for his lover that could never return. The clock's chiming interrupted their thought patterns, and for a moment the two of them blinked, wondering just how late it had gotten while they wasted away in the sitting room. Sherlock sighed heavily, patting the ring box in his pocket and feeling his heart start to shatter with the mere thought of leaving John here, John and the opportunities he possessed, to entrap himself with a woman he had no love for. And yet what else could he do, what were his options? He could already hear his brother's beckoning calls; he could already begin to hear the excited screams and see Molly's delighted face as she held out her hand to where he knelt...
"I must go." Sherlock whispered, ducking his gaze so that he didn't have to watch as John's heart broke.
"Sherlock you don't have to." John insisted, taking a step forward and grabbing at Sherlock's hand almost desperately, trapping it in both of his own and holding Sherlock where he stood. It was ever so tempting for Sherlock to just stay there where he stood, he could almost imagine a life where he and John just stood here in the firelight, standing in the sitting room while the faintest of music played in the background. It was be a quiet life and a peaceful life, stopped in this very moment for the rest of the eternity, with their hands clasped and their breaths caught in their throats, their tongues tied and their hearts straining to be close once more. And yet no matter how desperate Sherlock was to stay here, in this exact second, the clock continued to tick and the fire continued to burn, and soon he knew that the guests would leave, and their feet would grow tired, and the fire would eventually go out.
"I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered, glancing at John in pity before letting his hand slide away from John's, releasing his grip and passing quietly through the doorway to find Molly Hooper in the crowd of the nameless.