Mortals meets demigods.

Why wasn't it me?

(This is my first ever johnlock one shot! It's going to be depressing because that's how I feel right now.. This is told in third person...
Any feedback is welcome (NO HATE)

It has been four years since John had left Sherlock. It still affected the detective den after John's wedding.

What is the point now? Sherlock's only love was taken away from him. Just because he had faked his death. Why aren't I giving up?

John Watson kept him right. Not even giving into the lies Moriarty had told the world. Believing in him, while London and the world began to believe Sherlock was a fraud, a fake, a /FREAK/, the loner, the Virgin. Why wouldn't it be him? Why wouldn't it have been Sherlock, John had married? John Hamish Watson, Dr. Watson always told everyone he wasn't gay. Which it could be fine. Maybe not.

Sherlock stood by the window. Would anyone miss him? Like John did, while he was gone for two years? Maybe he should've stayed dead, never came back. Let John Watson, his blogger, move on. The kind, housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson who always took care of him, even while he did drugs. Molly Hooper, the women who liked him, the women who Sherlock could never like back. Gavin Lestrade, Sherlock knew that his death affected him. The man who let the brilliant, genius Sherlock Holmes on the crime scene and could solve it within minutes, just by deducing things.

Oh, only if John knew who Sherlock Holmes felt. But no, he had to go and get married to a murder. Why couldn't John see that the detective loves him?! Will john ever see the truth?

Sentiment. That's what this is. Love.. Oh, Sherlock wishes he could take it all back. But, without his blogger, Sherlock would've never survived. Sentiment. After all these damn years, Sherlock felt loved. No. It wasn't love.

John Watson. John Hamish Watson, the ex-army Doctor. Who was addicted to danger.. Who said my deductions were brilliant. Who laughed when he said what people usually say; PISS OFF!

Why can't he loved?

Silent tears ran down the detective's face. It was to late for him now. John, Molly, and Grey, and Mycroft or even Mrs. Hudson could change his mind. It was to late to save him.

The guilt was murdering him. It was tearing him apart. More silent tears and sob sacked his body. Who will find him when this is over? Poor, Mrs. Hudson? This time, Sherlock Holmes, the worlds first ever consulting detective. It had finally broken him.

"Goodbye."
This was a a gunshot, and a soft thud.

A:N I wrote this two days ago, and I was feeling depressed for some reason. Please give me feedback.
I did delete most of the ans I have posted, so it's not all of that. I'm open to any AUs or something.. Uh... Bye now.
~Lilly_~