Chapter Text
It was several hours and more than several beers later and John was beginning to feel a bit like Cinderella. His own personal midnight was fast approaching. He knew that all too soon he would have to leave this bubble of warmth and light and happiness to return to the grey, cold drudgery of a flat, a job, even a life that he had grown to hate.
He looked at his watch, took a deep breath and summoned up the most cheerful voice he could. "Well, mates, it's been a lovely evening, but unfortunately, I've got an early shift at the clinic tomorrow and I've got to be heading...home." He cursed himself for the slight hesitation and couldn't help wondering if his voice sounded as false to their ears as it did to his own.
"John, you are ..." Sherlock caught himself and took a deep breath, glancing at Greg as he did so. Greg's face was neutral, but Sherlock could read the same pain in his eyes that he himself was feeling.
John looked over at Sherlock. "I am what, Sherlock?" He tried to ignore the little flutter of hope in his heart.
"You are coming back later this week, aren't you? To help with planning?"
"As long as there are no serviettes involved, I'll be back." The little flutter he had felt crashed to the ground like a dead butterfly. He stepped forward and gave first Sherlock then Greg quick but affectionate hugs. "Thank you both. I ... just ... thank you." He gave a quick, sharp, very John-like nod and walked to the door.
"Thanks for coming over tonight, John. It was good to see you. We'll get together soon - go out for a pint or two before Sherlock traps us both in wedding planning hell." The smile on Greg's face didn't quite reach his eyes.
God, John hated awkward goodbyes. "Right. Just give me a call then. "
He walked out the door and down the steps, refusing to allow himself to look up toward the bedroom that had once been his own. Once, a long time ago - before Sherlock died, before Mary - John had never been happier in his life. And now it was gone - Sherlock, Baker Street, the Work, even Greg. They all seemed so far away now - something beautiful and perfect, but unattainable. A world that John was no longer a part of. As he walked into his flat, John wondered if there was anywhere he truly belonged any more. As he undressed and fell into bed, John wondered how he could possibly feel so numb and yet still hurt so bad at the same time.
It wasn't that he begrudged Greg and Sherlock their relationship. He had known almost from the beginning that they loved each other. He knew that Greg had suffered at least as much as he had while Sherlock was gone. He loved both men (and ignored the little voice in his head that mentioned he might also be in love with at least one of them and quite possibly both of them) and he was glad that they were finally together. Greg's broken heart was mended and Sherlock would always have someone there to take care of him. Unfortunately for John, that meant that he no longer had a place in their world. Neither of them needed him any more now that they had each other. If there were ever two people in the world that deserved to be happy, it was Sherlock and Greg. John couldn't bring himself to be angry or jealous. But he couldn't help but envy them sometimes. Despite his slightly promiscuous ways and his disastrous marriage, John still longed to be part of a loving, stable relationship. He wondered if Sherlock had felt this same type of pain during John's own engagement and wedding.
With a sigh that didn't quite make it all the way to a sob, John rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, praying for sleep and doing his best not to think of the two beautiful men he had left behind.