a/n: who's reaDY FOR THE STRONGEST ANGST IN YOUR LIFE????

you and me, we made a vow
for better or for worse

They got married on a Tuesday in October, and it rained. It was a downpour that soaked through their expensive suits, but they laughed. They laughed and hugged each other around the waists and kissed and kissed and kissed.

"I love you," John had whispered into Sherlock's shoulder, fabric against his lips. Sherlock squeezed the blogger tighter as a raindrop slid down the bridge of his nose.

"I know."

Much later, back at 221B, after they had stripped off their jackets and shoes, John pulled Sherlock in for another kiss. A bubbly gasp escaped the taller man's mouth, and John smiled into it, biting at Sherlock's bottom lip.

John pressed him against the wall and sucked bruises into his throat. Sherlock clutched at John's clothes, the suit still slightly damp from earlier.

"You. Are. Beautiful." With each word, John undid a button of Sherlock's white shirt, kissing at each piece of pasty skin he revealed.

The detective was covered in freckles, from his neck down to his toes. John wanted to map out his ivory skin and keep it for his morning tea, and perhaps his afternoon tea...and maybe even the evening tea.

With a growl, John pushed his way through the rest of Sherlock's buttons.

"John," came a whisper.

"Sherlock?"

"I'd very much like to move into my bedroom."

John laughed, "Of course."

In the morning, Sherlock nuzzled John awake with a kiss to the yellowed scar.

"What if you get tired of me?" Sherlock rumbled.

"If I ever got tired of you, I would be dead, Sherlock Holmes."

i can't believe you let me down
but the proof's in the way it hurts

John kept going out late at night. At first, Sherlock never noticed much. He had experiments to complete, and sometimes he had his elbows so deep in a box of cat eyeballs, he didn't notice how the door of 221B would slam shut around eight PM.

One night, John returned, reeking of cigarette smoke and...and perfume.

Maybe he ran into a woman on the street, Sherlock would reassure himself. The detective paid more attention as John's monthly escapes became weekly ones.

One night, John came home around ten PM, his usual routine. He had pink lipstick on his collar.

for months on end i've had my doubts
denying every tear

"Sherlock."

"Haven't you kept an eye on him?!" A strangled shout ripped out of the detective's throat.

Mycroft folded his hands together. "I stopped invading your privacy once the pair of you were betrothed."

"Oh, really?"

Mycroft pursed his lips.

"Give me the footage."

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Give it to me right now."

"Sherlock..."

"GIVE IT TO ME." Sherlock clenched his hands into fists and attempted to hold back the tears.

Mycroft sighed and handed Sherlock a security tape. "Will you just talk to him before you watch it?"

Sherlock didn't answer the question.

i wish this would be over now
but i know that i still need you here

It wasn't some dark-haired, tall bombshell like Sherlock had imagined in his nightmares. It wasn't some large-breasted, scandalous prostitute that was making John careen beneath her. It wasn't anything he had deduced.

Sherlock sobbed.

you say i'm crazy
'cause you don't think i know
what you've done
but when you call me baby
i know i'm not the only one

"Good morning," John leant down and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Tea?"

Sherlock grunted.

"I'll take that a yes." John put on the kettle, humming as he slipped two pieces of bread into the toaster.

Sherlock was shaking. His fingers were like individual earthquakes, and his legs were filled with tremors he couldn't seem to stop. Oh, God oh God oh GodohGodohGod.

"Lestrade hasn't called you for a case in awhile. Has Scotland Yard finally gained some other intelligence?" John joked.

"I've ignored the calls."

"What?"

"I've ignored the calls."

"Why?" John placed a blue mug next to the microscope Sherlock was working at.

"I've been busy...with other things."

"Oh. Okay. Well, tell me if there's, like, a triple homicide with an unidentifiable substance or something."

"Mmm."

Oh, God.

you've been so unavailable
now sadly i know why

"John! It's an eight point seven!" Sherlock shouted into the kitchen as he tied his scarf.

"I can't. Me and Mike are going to a pub tonight. I've cancelled on him at least three other times."

"But this is an eight point seven, John. Out of ten."

"Yes, I know your rating system, love."

Sherlock's mind flashed with images from the video.

"I have to go." And Sherlock left.

your heart is unobtainable
even though Lord knows you kept mine

Sherlock started having nightmares again. They had stopped after he had married John and was almost completely content with life.

"Oh, Jesus." John's moans would fill his mind as images of the blonde digging his strong fingers into another's scalp filled Sherlock's head. He would wake up, sweating, with the sheets pooled around his ankles.

John was always fast asleep beside him. Sherlock would admire the blogger's soft features. He was so peaceful and beautiful, every worry strewn from his tanned face, and  Sherlock Holmes was still so in love with John Watson.

you say i'm crazy
'cause you don't think i know
what you've done
but when you call me baby
i know i'm not the only one

Sherlock followed him one night to a bar in central London. The detective didn't expect John to meet them there, in a tiny booth where they squished beside each other, smiling.

Oh, God.

Sherlock watched from the other side of the bar, cold beer left unattended on the counter beside him. He watched as John kissed them, as John left purple spots on their neck, as John pushed his hand between their legs.

Oh, God.

Sherlock ran out the back door as fast as he could.

i have loved you for many years
maybe i am just not enough

"John."

Sherlock stepped in front of the blogger. He was sitting in his chair, typing away on that stupid blog.

"John," Sherlock's voice broke.

Oh, God.

"Yeah?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Alright." John closed the lid of his laptop and looked up.

Those blue eyes seemed to always be the death of Sherlock.

"I was thinking...tonight. It's our anniversary. We could go to Angelo's or get takeout or you could make something." He couldn't do it. Not here, not in 221B.

John laughed, and Sherlock looked at the ground. "One of these days, I'm going to teach you how to make a decent cake, but yeah. How about Angelo's?"

you've made me realize my deepest fear
by lying and tearing us up

John talked and talked about his "pub night with Stamford." Sherlock gazed into the flame of the candle placed in the middle of their table, watching the light flicker off John's mouth.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the crime scene. Did you solve it?"

"No."

"Oh. Did Lestrade solve it?"

"No."

"So, just unsolved completely then?"

Sherlock looked at John, and all the strings inside him broke.

you say i'm crazy
'cause you don't think i know
what you've done
but when you call me baby
i know i'm not the only one

"I know."

"What?"

"I know about the man. Sholto. James Sholto. I've known for a long time."

"What the hell are you talking about, Sherlock?"

"I know that you have been sneaking out almost every night to go suck off your previous commander," Sherlock spat.

John looked at the lace tablecloth. "Sherlock--"

"Don't. Don't you dare try to apologize to me. I've seen a video, and I followed you to the bar one night. I thought it was a woman, but no. Of course, not gay John Watson goes and has an affair with his previous commander."

"I'm bis--"

"Bisexual. I know. I'm your husband, remember? I'm still so head over heels in love with my husband who is getting off with Major James Sholto."

"Sherlock, please. Can we not do this here?"

"When else are we going to do it? When else are we going to talk about the affair you've been keeping from me for almost three months?"

"It was supposed to just be one night. We got drunk, and I...I tried to stop him--"

"You're addicted to danger, and I wasn't enough, so you went to the next best thing."

"That's not what happened."

"Then what the hell happened? You told me you would never get tired of me. You said you loved me. We're married," Sherlock's voice kept breaking, and he couldn't look John in the eye, and he couldn't start crying, but he did anyway, and John looked sorry. He looked sorry. Sherlock was disgusted.

"I know. I know I did. But James...he is...different from you."

"Do you love him?"

"What?"

"You heard me," Sherlock growled.

"Sherlock..."

"Do you fucking love him?"

John pressed his lips into a thin line, like he was trying to lie to himself.

Sherlock let out a breath, stood up, and left.

i know i'm not the only one

John moved out the next week. Sherlock stayed in his room the whole time the blogger was packing his things. He could hear Mrs. Hudson complaining about the mess and the stifling silence from John.

Sherlock despised it. He wanted to grab John's hand and disappear. Maybe John would never even think about Sholto again. Maybe everything would go back to normal. Maybe John would tell Sherlock that he was still hopelessly in love with him.

God, Sherlock was delusional. Part of him wanted to hide in a dark alley somewhere and shoot up. And that would be good. That would be so good.

He couldn't do it. He was such a coward, and John Watson was to blame for it.

Finally, Sherlock came out of his room. Everything looked normal. There were subtle differences, of course--John's favorite blue mug was no longer in the cupboard, the Union Jack pillow was gone, and there were no medical books John had liked to browse through to "refresh his skills a bit."

Sherlock loved those things. He loved the oatmeal colored jumper, the incessant nagging about keeping human heads out of the fridge, and the way John smelled after he brushed his teeth. Sherlock loved John Watson.

It was such a shame John Watson didn't love him back.

a/n: : ))))))))) JohnlockPride gave me this idea for a oneshot. we composed this idea for pain together. I hope you enjoyed it 😎😎