Sometimes I get jealous:

Seeing Sherlock walk around with John,

Hold John's hand,

Bury his nose into John's soft hair.

Boop John's nose,

Kiss John's head,

Kiss John's lips.

Sometimes I get lonely:

When I visit their flat,

When John pours me tea

While he's writing his blog.

When I'm over for Christmas

And Sherlock plays a song

He wrote especially for John.

Sometimes I feel angry:

What's the matter with me?

Why doesn't Sherlock love me?

What did I do wrong?

And what did John do right?

What did he do better than me

To make Sherlock want him more?

Sometimes I feel sad:

When it's raining at night

And I'm in my flat,

Alone in front of the telly.

When I'm watching Glee

With just my cat

While Sherlock and John are probably cuddling.

Then again . . .

Sometimes I feel proud:

When Sherlock finally admitted

That he wasn't better off alone

And that he needed someone.

When he made such an obvious effort

To act human for once

And apologized without prompting to me.

Sometimes I feel happy:

When Sherlock and John are being just so cute

That I can't feel bad for myself

Because they make you feel good.

When Sherlock's mum walked him down the aisle

To where John stood at the altar

And they said their vows together.

Sometimes I feel worried:

When Sherlock had to watch

As John married someone else

(Who turned out to be evil and hurt then both).

When John still lived with Mary

And Sherlock turned back to drugs

And lost weight, becoming depressed and maybe suicidal.

Sometimes I wish Sherlock had never met John,

But I doubt it would have helped my chances.

And after seeing Moriarty, I have no doubts

That without John, that's what Sherlock would be.

So sometimes I wish Sherlock was mine and not John's.

But only part of the time.