Months had passed since the Fall, and still Sherlock was plagued with thoughts of John. He was having a difficult time coping with the pain of their separation, and it didn't get any easier as time passed. Unable to resist, Sherlock would occasionally return to Baker Street and discreetly watch as John left 221B on his weekly grocery run—touching, he hadn't moved out of the flat. Sherlock wondered how John was still able to afford the rent, but he was sure that Mrs Hudson had simply taken pity on him and allowed him to stay. John always looked sad whenever Sherlock saw him, and that broke Sherlock's heart, but he couldn't bear to not check up on his only friend at least every once in a while, just to make sure he was still for the most part okay.

—

John was a mess. Months had passed since Sherlock had jumped off that bloody building, and he was just getting to be able to sleep at night. He would still wake up shaking, reliving that terrible day in his nightmares, but he was getting along. Mostly thanks to Mary. Thank God he found her—she had helped him when no one else could. Mary made him better. But even still, he sometimes caught himself thinking of Sherlock when he was alone in the flat; sitting in his favourite armchair, he imagined Sherlock in the kitchen, working on yet another horrific experiment for one of Lestrade's cases. He would smile and shake his head, but then Mary or Mrs Hudson would pull him out of his reverie, and that sad, tight expression his face always had would inevitably return, and he'd go back to real life again. Life without his best friend.

—

When Sherlock heard the news that John had announced his engagement to Mary Morstan, he didn't know what to feel. Happiness for John, he supposed, but also surprise, shock, and the tiniest tinge of sadness and even hurt. Well at least John was moving on. Maybe it was time for Sherlock to do the same.

—

John spent weeks deliberating over who to ask to be his best man. The choice was obvious, except for the fact that his first choice, his best friend, wasn't there to fill the role. Instead he reluctantly offered Lestrade the honour, but Greg graciously declined, knowing full well who John really wanted beside him on his special day.

—

The day of the wedding, in an attempt to disguise himself, Sherlock got a haircut, trimming away all of his characteristic curls, and wore a pair of glasses and a new suit. He grabbed a cab and dropped off in the rear of the chapel to avoid being seen. When the guests began arriving, he snuck in the back and hid himself in the shadows of a secluded corner to watch the ceremony.

—

John gave his necktie one final adjustment in front of the mirror, a wistful, almost sad look on his face. Lestrade clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and John forced a more confident, relaxed expression. As the music began, they walked into the church.

—

The opening notes of a wedding march filled Sherlock's ears. The back doors opened, and there was Lestrade, walking down the aisle, followed by John. Sherlock's breath caught in his throat. As the wedding party assembled at the front of the hall, Sherlock immediately noticed a certain important person was missing. John had no best man. Realising the implication of the empty spot, his eyes glazed over.

A particularly prominent fanfare alerted Sherlock to the arrival of the bride, and he shook his head, trying to clear his vision. The doors opened once again, and Sherlock got his first ever glimpse of John's soon-to-be wife. She wore a simple but elegant white dress, nothing flashy or ostentatious. She was no more than average in Sherlock's eyes, but the look of utter joy and bliss on her face made her radiant with beauty.

—

When John first saw Mary walking down the aisle toward him, she took his breath away, and his stomach immediately filled with butterflies. He instinctively looked over to his side for reassurance, but there was no one there to reassure him. Or at least not the person he was looking for.

Once John had Mary's hands in his, though, it was as if a weight was off his shoulders. His face relaxed into a more genuinely soft expression as the minister began his sermon.

—

Sherlock saw the happiness on both their faces. His jaw clenched. He scooted farther into the shadows and tried to compose himself.

—

When the minister announced John and Mary as man and wife, it was the happiest moment of John's life. The couple walked out the doors of the chapel to cheers and congratulations and jumped into their waiting car.

—

Sherlock stayed hidden inside and watched from the window as John and Mary's car sped away. He could feel a ball of pain and sadness rising up in his chest. He tried in vain to force it down.

Once he was sure the guests were gone, he snuck back out of the chapel to his waiting cab.

—

Once safely in the car, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He let out a whimper, and then a full-on sob. It felt wrong, repulsive, vulgar, to show such emotions. But it felt good. So he let it all out. He removed the idiotic glasses and just let himself feel. And he cried. He cried for himself, for John, and for them both.

Unsure of how to react to his passenger's loud emotional display, the cabbie just sat there for a while and let Sherlock cry it out. When he was done for the most part, Sherlock signalled for them to go. Sherlock wiped his eyes and held his quivering hands to his face as the car slowly pulled away, leaving the church and the thought of John behind.

Sherlock was moving on.