What If?

I sat there, drink in hand as the speeches made no sense to me. My food was in front of me, untouched. This whole day I'd sat in composed silence, only really exchanging words with any meaning to John and Sherlock, a fake smile for Molly, Rory and the guests as they all celebrated. The real test had been earlier, after the actual ceremony when Rory and Molly had thanked me for helping plan the wedding. Well, planned, I'd sat there nodding every so often as Molly and Mrs Hudson had planned.

He'd hugged me after she had, a kiss on the cheek and a heartfelt thank you. I just blocked it out. Smiled and laughed a little and said it was no trouble. Then walked away outside and had a cry in the dark car park of the posh hotel before correcting any malfunctioning make up. The rest of the evening, I hoped, at least, would continue with getting very, very drunk and forgetting most of it.

No. Tears again. For god's sake, control yourself. Pass it off as being emotional about the wedding. Dab your eyes politely with a napkin. Just nod and smile as Mrs Hudson asks if you're all right. And the speeches are over. Well done, you can breathe.

Moments later I found myself out in the car park again, sat on a bench crying. I really needed to get a lid on my emotions, especially now they were married, and Molly was one of my friends. Then I remembered that they were moving to Leadworth. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the odd phone call and visit here and there. It was a long drive to come back regularly.

"I'm pathetic." I muttered. He couldn't creep up on me any more, it annoyed him slightly but I could tell when he watched me. I could tell because I'd watched him watch me an awful lot. Sherlock sighed, sitting on the other side of the bench. He said nothing for a few moments, before muttering,

"No, you're not pathetic. Just human. With emotions that are complicated and make you hurt."

"I don't want to ruin things for her. That's not fair. He's not my Rory. He looks like him, talks like him, acts like him. But he's not. He's not the same." I tried to stop crying, I really did, but mascara ran down my cheeks and I just couldn't stop it. I didn't make a sound, but tears wouldn't stop as I sat there, looking up at the stars in the cloudless sky. Only another few hours. Then you can go home. Go home and forget.

Sherlock just sat there in silence, unsure of what to do. It was usually John who took care of the crying, with tea and biscuits and such. It unsettled him. I heard him inhale, as if to say something, but he was cut short by a sound I thought I'd never hear again. The churning engine of a Tardis ship as it landed in the middle of the car park. We glanced at each other, probably in order to check we weren't seeing things. I walked cautiously towards it, a palm pressed to the wooden door as I took a deep breath. And then started shouting at him, behind the doors where I knew he waited.

Well, screaming was more accurate. I knew he could hear me, and I didn't want to see him here. I didn't want him any where near me. I didn't want him at all. As the words left me, I knew that this was the one time I couldn't regret them. That I shouldn't regret them.

"Stay away from me."

And with that, the Tardis left. He didn't even walk past those doors to make any attempt at an apology to my face. It just faded away, as it always did, engines making that awful noise as it disappeared. I stared, my hand still hovering over where it had just touched the wooden exterior of the Tardis, still just being able to see it's shade of blue in my mind's eye. Then it was gone. My childhood, my best friend. Gone in an instant. I was strangely glad to be free. A deep breath, and all was well for a moment. But then soon enough the fear and doubt crept back in to taint things slightly.

"Are you all right?" I heard from over my shoulder, a little way off back in the direction of the party.

"I don't know." I muttered, dabbing at my eyes. Little flip mirror out, reapplying make up. Breathing deeply, patching everything over. "I think I'll be fine." I sighed, turning to face him. Sherlock stared back, waiting for me in quiet patience.

"I know he came back a while ago. I know you told him to get lost. John told me after you'd told him." As I said it, he looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He tried muttering apologies before I shut him up. "It was nice. Thank you."

He stopped in his tracks, confused slightly. It was odd, seeing him confused. I laughed slightly, a real smile feeling odd on my face as if it wasn't often that one occurred. He smiled back gently, and then muttered,

"It was either that or unleash the crazed ginger in the next flat over. Sherlock was fast asleep on the door mat and I didn't fancy waking him up."

He'd discovered our little code name for the cat. That he didn't mind was something me and John could giggle over later. Maybe a false sense of hero worship filled his head and he was quite proud of the feline's title. Either way, it was up for discussion tomorrow morning.

"Come on then, Grumpy Gregory." I laughed, walking the space between us, my heels clicking sharply against damp concrete. "Let's go party, shall we?"

He rolled his eyes, following as I walked back in the direction of the thudding music. "And for want of a better and more accurate pet name, Miss Pond, may I suggest Sulky Sherlock? It does at least imply my own name."

"That's fabulous, but the cat's already beaten you to that one." I smirked, as I went back inside and felt the warmth of the room sting my face gently. The lighting was lower, standard cheesy wedding playlist blared as people sat around drunk, laughing, laughing drunkenly or bored. Some took the opportunity to embarrass themselves on the dance floor. Molly, dancing with Rory and her neice Catherine. I'd had to put a bow in her hair that morning, she fidgeted and cried until I gave up, letting Mrs Hudson take charge. I was no good with kids, never would be. I sat watching them as Rory picked the little girl up, tickling her and telling her that she looked like a princess. They'd be so happy. Once they moved out from right under my nose they'd be brilliant. They'd be happier than I ever would. And I wanted that for them, they deserved it.

"Now, you have the option of looking on miserably and drinking yourself into stupor, dancing with me, or going home and eating a packet of John's jammy dodgers while watching Notting Hill with a certain Sherlock." he sighed, staring at the dance floor as I did.

"How very observant." I muttered, staring at the dance floor still and not turning in his direction as he wanted me to. The first dance was called and I felt a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. "I think I'll go home." I caught Molly's eye and she quickly wandered over. I made some excuse about feeling sick, I needed to leave. Leave before I did something stupid.

"All right, it's fine, don't worry about it. It's been a long day, you haven't looked yourself. Be careful, okay? I'll call you in the morning." she smiled, before I left promptly and with out looking back.

"Come along, Pond. We'll go home, watch Notting Hill and cry about life. It's what normal people do, we may as well try." Sherlock mumbled, pulling on his coat as we marched straight back out into the still evening.

"For a moment back there I thought you meant I'd be watching it with the cat." I replied, eyebrows raised as we called a cab.

"What do you think I am, heartless?"