"Sherlock." John said, walking into the living room.
Sherlock looked up and saw that John had found his needle case. He thought he hid it well, but apparently John still checks under his matress.
"Why do you have these? I though you we're done using."
Sherlock looked down at the floor. "I guess I'm not."
"Why, Sherlock? You we're doing well. What made you start again."
"You," Sherlock muttered, holding the tears back.
"What?"
"You!" Sherlock shouted, raising himself out of his chair. "I started using again because of you!"
"But why, Sherlock? What have I done?"
"You went off and found her. Then you got married. I started using again the night of the wedding, when I left early."
John stared up at Sherlock. He was fighting the urge to wipe Sherlock's tears away and hold him and tell him that he never loved Mary, he always loved him.
"You probably don't even care and if I say what I want to say, you'll never talk to me again, but that's okay, you never talk to me now." Sherlock looked John in the eyes. "I love you, John Watson. Have a good life with Mary." Sherlock walked passed John and straight to his bed room, locking the door.
John stood in the same place, letting the tears silently roll down his face. He looked down at the case he was holding and opened it. Inside there was the picture of him and Sherlock on his wedding day together. John threw the case into the fire and walked to Sherlock's room. He slid the picture under the door and waited until he heard Sherlock get it to leave. Before John could leave out the kitchen door Sherlock came out of his room and stood in the corridor, looking at John.
John stared back and took a fewsteps closer to Sherlock. Sherlock stood there with the picture in his hand and looked at it, then back to John. John stood a few inches from Sherlock and took the photo out of his hand, holding his hand.
"If you didn't go and kill yourself, I'd be married to you, not Mary."
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, looking down at their hands.
"I left roses at you grave. Yellow for friendship and red for-"
"Love." Sherlock said, cutting John off and looking up at him.
"Exactly. I always left one more red rose than yellow, and to me that's how I would tell you I loved you, but you were 'dead' so how could you have known?"
"You didn't have to leave red roses, I all ready knew you loved me, but I was scared to say anything because I could've been wrong and you would never talk to me again."
"I said this once and I'm going to say it again. I was alone, and I owe you so much, and I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
"And I love you, John Watson."
John got up on his toes and placed a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips, and Sherlock happily returned it. They pulled apart to catch their breath.
"What about Mary?" Sherlock asked. "What about Rosie?"
"Mary knows. She knows that I loved you, and if we divorce, I get Rosie. We can be a happy family," John smiled softly. "The Watsons."
"But we're not married."
"Would you like to be? Because I'd marry you in an instant."
Sherlock smiled, "I'd love to marry you."
"That's good," John smiled, "Very good."
"Are you going to leave?"
"I will be back in the morning with my things and Rosie and her things, and I will get the divorce papers tomorrow."
"Promise?"
John kissed Sherlock. "I promise." he sadly let go of Sherlock's hand and headed back to the door.
"Hey, John?" Sherlock called.
John stuck his head back in the flat. "What?"
"I love you."
John smiled. "I love you too." John walked out back onto the landing, and out of the flat.