Work Text:
I know I may seem pretty tough
It takes a lot to earn my trust
But you did, you were good, it was love
I don’t make lovers don’t make friends
Don’t have the patience for pretend
But for the first time in my life I didn’t want this to end
But it did
Amy Kuney, “Kiss Me Like You Mean It”
She was gone.
He knew there were others in her life just as important, if not more important, than him, and that there would be times that she was with them and not him. He didn’t want to tie her down to him in any way; she gave him space to do what he needed to do, room to move, room to breathe. He extended the same to her. It was the way their relationship had worked.
He had never expected to be in a relationship before. He had never expected to feel anything of that level of emotion to another human being before. John was different; John was his friend, his first real friend. And while there was a lot of emotion tied to that relationship, it wasn’t the same as if it was love. And now that he thought about it, sat down and examined the whole strange, tumultuous relationship he had with her, he knew it had, in fact, been love. She had changed him, left her mark on him, and he had found himself changing, for the better, judging from other people’s remarks. All had been right in his world when she was there.
He missed her. He couldn’t pick up a phone and call her now, couldn’t see her at the park, couldn’t wake up with her beside him. She was beyond phones, trapped somewhere in time, unable to escape. She was in the past, and not here with him. He only knew this because her dearest friend, the one who had taken her away just recently, came to him and explained what had happened. When she had first told him of travelling through space and time he had thought she was delusional; when she took him on an adventure he believed. But he never had the same kind of connection to her beloved friend that she did; deep down he knew that this man would be the reason his relationship with her would end.
He’d wanted to rage to the heavens as her friend explained about the Weeping Angels, about time paradoxes, about how Amelia was trapped and there was no way he could get to her, how she was alone in New York. He should have gone with her this time. She had asked, she always asked before she left on an adventure. And he usually said no, plead off because of work or some other matter. He should have said yes this time. Then perhaps she wouldn’t be alone. He would be there with her. They could survive together, but that was never going to happen.
So now it was him and his broken heart, the gaping hole in his soul where she used to reside showing itself, and not even his good friend could help. He wished he had never fallen in love at all. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t know how much it hurt when love went away. Perhaps if he really was a machine, if he didn’t allow himself to feel emotions, all would be better, and he wouldn’t have to worry about losing anyone ever again. Yes, that seemed a good solution. From here on out, Sherlock Holmes would once again live an attachment-free life. It was for the best.