I hear his footsteps coming closer to the door. The smoke of several pipes is floating around me, the bottle of cocaine is empty. Facing the window, I don't turn around when he opens the door. I don't turn around when he says my name. I don't turn around when his hand brushes against the back of my neck.

I know he wants to say something, but he doesn't. I want to speak, there are so many things I would like to say to him. I don't. I can't. I never will.

I love you.

The words are clear in my head though my lips won't do what I ask them. I try to speak, several times, I try but no sounds will come out. And as I eventually turn to face him, and I look into those deep blue eyes, I know it's a lost cause. The words won't come out whatever I will do. When he sees the syringe on the desk, I can't help but smile at his reaction and I can see his thoughts on his face as clearly as I can see the room around me.

When he stops staring at the syringe and he drops his gaze on me, I realize, this is the last time. Our last night. His bags are packed, nearly nothing is left, only the strict minimum. Tomorrow he will go back to her, to Mary. Then he will marry her and I will be his best man at the reception. I will stand right at his side when he will say "I do." and I will even smile. For him. I will laugh when it will be required. For him. And for him I will stay silent during the ceremony. Then I will leave him to his happy life and do everything I can for him to have what he deserves : real happiness. Even if that includes getting out of his life and never see him again.

When I try to look in his eyes, I drop my gaze to the floor and he gently lifts my chin with both his hands.

"I'm sorry, Holmes." He says.

"No." Is the only answer I can give him. I have to bite my lip to keep what I think might be a sob. But when I realize it is not I continue, "Don't. It's all my fault."

"I wish I could be easier."

I don't answer to this. I don't feel like it. There is only one thing I feel like doing at that moment. I want to take him in my arms and press him against me. But I don't. and when he leans down to kiss me I step back.

"Please. Don't. I... I cant." I can't let him kiss me. He deserves better. Even if we kissed so many times in the past that I lost count, now it's over. He can't kiss me anymore. He deserves better, he deserves someone nice to look after him and not piss him off like I constantly do. He doesn't need someone brutal and cold like myself, he needs someone kind and gentle like Mary. I think she will be the perfect wife. Even now I cant' hate her for she is adorable.

Trying to loose myself in my thoughts I hope I can fail to notice the rejected look on his features.

"Holmes-"

"No," I cut him off and that's when I loose control, when I speak just a bit to loud to appear calm and I shoot him my coldest look. "You want to go, to leave me, it's your choice, I don't mind. But don't you try to use me like this ! If you prefer her company to mine, it's fine, go to her and stay there. And if I ever see you again after your wedding, it won't be as a lover because I don't share."

He just stares at me and I can see he's as hurt as I am.

"Go." I snap, turning to the window again but not to look at it. I only turn to avoid his eyes.

"So that's it then," he says quietly with a slightly disgusted tone in his voice. "All those years we spent together, the friendship, the nights in front of the fire, the opera, the time we spent in each other's arms, you're done with it, that's forgotten forever."

You are the one who's leaving, not me. I don't turn around and he sighs.

"I can't believe this, Holmes ! Don't you have any feelings ?" He stops and I can feel his gaze piercing holes in the back of my head. I let my chin fall to my chest and trop my pipe to the floor. Smoking won't help me with this one.

"Do you love her ?" I ask.

After four breathless seconds he answers and I allow myself to breathe again.

"Yes." He pauses. "I loved you Sherlock." I can't help but chuckle sarcastically at this. Even though I never doubted it, now I do. "And I love you-" He cuts himself off. "You are unbelievable ! How can you laugh ? How can you laugh now ?"

Now I turn around.

"And what else, pray tell, would you want me to do ?" I ask louder then I meant.

"Holmes ! For God's sake, open your eyes man ! This is it, you and I, its over, this is our last night together. I tell you that I love you and you don't cry, no, you laugh ! You don't cry. I don't blame you for this. I blame you for not even being sad."

"I asked you to stay. You didn't. That's it." When I say this, my voice is not broken or trembling, no, it's steady as ever and my eyes are not burning and I wonder why I keep my cool and why, indeed, I am not crying.

He realizes something. I don't know what but he steps back and looks at me like I just hit him. He asks so low that I can barely hear, "You never loved me, did you ?"

My heart breaks.

"I was right," He continues "You really are a heartless man, you are a machine. You can't cry, you are incapable of feeling anything !" He speaks louder and louder. "You only used me for sex, I was only a toy for you ! All the times we exchanged kisses, all the times we made love, all-" His voice breaks and the next thing he says seems harder to let out. "all the times I held your hand, all the times you fell asleep in my arms, not once did you tell me that you loved me. And I thought you did !" He chuckles ironically. "I thought you loved me but you just couldn't say so. I thought- How could I've been so blind ? I was stupid to think I as able to change you. Why did I ever believe that I could be the one man who brought feelings to the heartless Sherlock Holmes ? I should have known better. You never told me you loved me because you didn't."

"Watson-"

"No. I need to know this. Did you love me ?"

I love you, John. The very thought of you makes me live. You take my breath away. I don't even see the point of living if it's not with you because I love you.

No. The words won't come out and maybe it's better like this. Maybe it's better to let him think that he will not loose anything the day of his wedding. Maybe it's better if he thinks I used him.

Maybe not.

I drop my gaze to the floor, I still try to say something but I can't. John Watson is the only man capable of rending me speechless.

He sighs.

"Alright. I understand now."

I finally look at him and he is crying. The sight breaks my heart again. He turns away and starts for the door. I don't do anything to stop him.

And so he leaves, quickly grabbing his coat, forgetting his hat and not looking behind. I stare at the door for some time, listening to his footsteps as he goes. I can hear he stops at the seventh step and then starts for the ten others. I turn to the window for the seven hundred and twenty sixth time that nigh.

I pushed him in Mary Morstan's arms. I pushed him out of this house. I pushed him out of my life.

He comes out of the house, ignores a cab in the street, throws a last glance at my window, at what was once our window and walks the opposite direction to his home. I watch until he disappears in the night. And as I finally say "I love you" to the one man I ever cared for, the one who left me and is now in the street, for the first time since I was seven years old, I feel a single tear rolling down my cheek.

No happy ending ! aww

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