(Sherlock's POV)
A lot can happen in a few years. Apparently. As I put on the suit and stare at myself in disbelief whilst looking into the mirror. My best friend's happiest day. Nothing will ever be the same again.
I knew this day would come. Did I not? I have never been a man of wild fantasies but meeting you changed me. You know what they same about dreams, suppressed thoughts, and all that. It forces you to reflect on things you don't give the time of day to. Fantasies, emotions, foolish endeavours. As I had always thought, they were pipe dreams. I have never been fool enough to believe they could ever come true. But there were small moments, fleeting ones, where I thought this arrangement would last. But I knew, some part of me knew, that it wouldn't.
A solitary man once again, no matter what they say. How often will I see you now? Once a week? Month? Year?— I push the thoughts away. Feelings? They were not good now. I must stay calm and collected. I can't ruin this day. Regardless of my well-thought scolding, the sharp pain in my chest persists. I told it begrudgingly while scrunching up my face. Is this what death feels like? No, death is much colder, and foggy. This pain could only be torture; a much crueler fate.
I take a deep breath, and focus only on bottling, and burying my emotions once more for the next half hour.
I hear a knock. It must be time. I clear my throat, collect my papers, and straighten my tie. I answer the door with a smile.
"Are you ready?" He asks.
"Why shouldn't I be?" I answer quippily. He smiles and we walk out together. On least time. The show will soon end, this is the true finale.