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blue_eyed_1987Title: Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, pt 1
Paring: John/Sherlock, background Mycroft/Lestrade and Harry/Clara
Rating: R to be on the safe side
Warnings: Fluuufff. Boy kissing.
Word count: ~6500
Summary: They walked out of the registry office, the certificate clutched in John's hand. John kept reading the words over and over. Marriage solemnized at: Westminster Council House, and then underneath John Hamish Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
A/N: So a million years ago,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shortcrust won a fic from me on the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_nz fandom auction. She gave me lots of prompts, one of which was from the kink meme, requesting a John/Sherlock wedding fic. So, here it is! I'm so sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoy! <3 Thanks to sabrinaphynn for acting as a wonderful skull for my ramblings, gayalondiel for the beta and research about John's uniform and catchoo152 for being a wonderfully strict beta. They all deserve cookies, both internet based and real. Title from Shakespeare. All remaining mistakes are mine.
I'm posting this now as I'll be without internet for a week or so due to moving.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
They walked out of the registry office, the certificate clutched in John's hand. John kept reading the words over and over. Marriage solemnized at: Westminster Council House, and then underneath John Hamish Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
The witnesses had been selected from Sherlock's homeless network (formal clothing courtesy of Sherlock's credit card). John would've preferred something slightly more personal, but then he had mentally flipped through all the people they knew and he cringed at their reactions, at the fuss they would inevitably make.
In the end, it was enough that they were married; no more arguments with doctors and nurses when one or the other was in hospital, a recorded next of kin whom he would actually want to wake up to in hospital bed, and a nice formalisation of this...thing that had sprung up between him and Sherlock.
When they got home, Sherlock surprised John by presenting him with a ring. It was simple, just a silver band. It was slid on to the appropriate finger of his left hand, Sherlock's long fingers curling around his own. John had to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning like a loon.
Sherlock then pulled a matching one – suspended from a chain – from a pocket, and asked John to help him put it on. He haltingly explained why it would be inconvenient for him to wear it on his finger – experiments, disguises etc. John silenced him with a kiss and, gesturing for him to turn around, took the chain out of Sherlock’s hands. He fastened the chain around Sherlock's neck, enjoying the line of silver against the pale skin.
From there it just seemed natural to nuzzle the back of Sherlock's neck, nibbling down towards his shoulder, hands sliding down his back and around his waist, until Sherlock made a noise in the back of his throat, and... well, it was their wedding day, after all.
~~~
Two days later, Mycroft appeared. John quickly retreated to the kitchen to make tea. He'd given up on being a mediator between the Holmes brothers long ago. Now he just hoped he didn't get too caught up in the crossfire.
“What do you want, Mycroft?”
“I merely stopped by to congratulate you both on your marriage, Mummy will be so pleased,” Mycroft said, smugly. “Ah. Thank you, John,” he murmured as John handed him his tea.
The look on Sherlock's face would have been hilarious if this had been any other situation. As it was, John started to worry. He'd not once considered family, only really having Harry himself. Would they want to... meet him?
“Why must you always interfere?” Sherlock's angry, clipped voice broke into John's increasingly panicked thoughts.
“I hardly think informing Mummy that you've finally settled down is interfering, dear brother. And I’m sure she won’t be disappointed that you never mentioned your intentions before committing yourself.”
Sherlock glared. Mycroft smiled sweetly and put his cup down. “Well, I must be going, but I'm sure I shall be seeing you soon. Mummy will be very excited about meeting you, John. Goodbye.” John had never seen Mycroft look so happy. It did not help with his low level panic.
Mycroft left, leaving both men in silence, but for different reasons.
“I can't believe he would do this,” Sherlock spat, standing up and starting to pace.
“Sherlock... Sherlock, you've never really spoken about your mother... I assumed she had, well, died?”
“No, we do speak – email, mostly. It's convenient for both of us. And I was going to tell her eventually, in my own way. Mycroft can't help but interfere. Oh, this will be intolerable. Of course Mycroft will bend to her every whim and I'll look like the bad child. Again.”
John took a deep breath and placed himelf in Sherlock's way, wanting partly to forestall a full-blown rant and but also to try to get information.
“Sherlock. Stop a minute, let's take it from the top. What can we expect from this... interference?”
Sherlock sighed and threw himself onto the sofa.
“Well, Mummy will want to meet you first, obviously. Then, there is a chance – a good chance – that she will try to persuade us to have a more formal ceremony.”
“...persuade us?”
“She will probably just go ahead and plan one, with or without our input.”
“Does that mean it can go ahead with or without us?” John asked, hopefully.
Sherlock fixed John with a withering stare.
“Fair enough.” John moved over to the sofa, picking up Sherlock's legs and moving them so he could sit down. Sherlock promptly put his feet in John's lap, toes curling into the denim of his jeans. “I'm wondering if it's worth calling Harry. She'll be horrible, but at least it would get it all over in one fell swoop.”
Sherlock remained pointedly silent. Sulking, John realised. He sighed, and dug his phone out of his pocket.
~~~
At first Harry was happy for them – although John could hear the twinge in her voice that told him she was thinking of Clara.
“And then-” John interjected, “his brother is going to tell his mum, and oh god I haven't met the parents in years. She will want us to have a proper ceremony, Harry.”
Eventually, Harry stopped laughing.
“It's not like you won't make a good impression, oh Saintly One: doctor, army doctor, crimefighter, general do-er of good etc.”
John got the feeling that Harry was missing the point.
“Let me know when the ceremony is. I'll buy a hat.”
~~~
Mrs Holmes was, unsurprisingly, a formidable woman. Roughly the same height as John, she had fading red hair and blue eyes that cut right through him. She also had a Holmes-like presence that expected your attention rather than demanded it.
“So. Dr. Watson.”
“Er, please, call me John.”
“John. I assume, since you've married my son, that your intentions are indeed good and you're not just interested in Sherlock's...lifestyle.”
“What? No, not at all. I-”
“You need to be needed, John, and have a thirst for danger, this much is obvious. It would make sense that Sherlock's lifestyle is intriguing to you. The problem is that along with the adventure and excitement, there are Sherlock's low, bored phases, and that can put people off. It's easy to see that for some, the adventure wouldn't be enough for them to put up with Sherlock's moods and eccentricities.”
“If I was there just for the adventure, I would've left before now. Some time in between the severed head in the fridge and the 3am violin sawing.” John folded his arms across his chest pushing down his annoyance at being interrogated.
Mrs Holmes smiled dryly, and patted his knee. John assumed he'd passed the test.
~~~
A week later Sherlock and John had travelled to the Holmes family home, at the behest of Mycroft, who had told them it would be easier to begin planning if they were all together.
“The journey had been intolerable, with Sherlock sniping and ranting almost constantly. Their arrival had hardly lightened the mood, and after greeting his mother in a barely polite manner Sherlock had stormed off into one of the bedrooms. John had been directed to a sitting room, where a pot of tea was waiting for him, while Mrs Holmes had disappeared after her son.”
It was hard enough making small talk with Mycroft at the best of times, but John found it even harder with his husband and mother-in-law having an argument above him. Sherlock’s loud bluster was occasionally interrupted by a quieter, calmer voice.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Holmes appeared at the door.
“John, upstairs, second door on the left is your room – there's an ensuite if you want to freshen up before dinner. Mycroft, what's this Sherlock tells me about a Detective Inspector Lestrade?”
John gladly made his escape, hoping to find Sherlock in a slightly better mood. He had no idea why Sherlock had mentioned Lestrade, but going by the look on Mycroft’s face it was something secret. And getting one over on Mycroft always made Sherlock happy.
~~~
John was sitting at a small table in the conservatory looking down at the many and varied brochures before him. There were advertisements for everything: gazebos, fountains for hire, ice statues, even bouncy castles. He smirked. Sherlock would probably like those.
“Sherlock. Sherlock, just how many people are going to be at this... wedding? Are we going to re-do our vows?” John pulled another magazine from the pile, waving the picture at Sherlock. “and does your mother really want us to consider a hot air balloon?”
“We didn't really have vows, John, we just recited whatever trite rubbish the officiant told us too.”
“You know what I mean, Sherlock.” John snapped.
Sherlock heaved a huge sigh. “I have no idea what torture would make my mother happy, but I expect vows will be a part of it.”
Sherlock was tapping away at his laptop, frowning at something on his website, or John's blog.
“At least without the religious bit the actual ceremony will be short. Just the reception to worry about.”
“The what?”
“You know, you get married, then have a reception where people eat, drink, be merry? Dance? Then the wedded couple get carted off on their honeymoon and there's more of the merry-making.”
Sherlock looked up from his laptop, and frowned at John as though he was being particularly stupid, which really John should be used to by now.
“Of course. Even if you had been to a wedding, you'd have deleted it.”
Sherlock just smiled at him, all teeth. John continued looking through catering brochures.
“Are you going to invite anyone? Lestrade?” John looked up from an article on wedding cake etiquette.
“Absolutely not.”
“Mrs. Hudson? We should definitely invite her, she'd never forgive us otherwise, and you push your luck with her a lot as it is.”
Sherlock nodded his assent.
“Shit, we're actually planning this.”
“I did tell you that Mummy could be persuasive.”
“You seem to be taking this a lot better than I thought. What with the socializing, adhering to pointless traditions and the lack of cases, I thought you'd have done a runner by now. I’m not even sure why I haven’t done a runner.”
Sherlock huffed a laugh.
“Mummy...made it clear that all this, the planning, the ceremony, meant a lot to her.”
“Oh.”
“Neither Mycroft nor I had ever shown any signs of committing to a relationship of any kind, never mind something like the permanence of marriage. Mummy accepted our lack of interest and had all but given up hope of either of us having a ceremony that she could contribute to and plan. So when Mycroft informed her that I was already married-”
“It didn’t go down well.”
“No, not at all. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not completely oblivious to these things. I realise that getting married in such a secretive fashion was hurtful to her, so, we have a ceremony.”
And that, as they say, was that.
~~~
On a whim, John put Clara’s name on the guest list. He then realised he should probably at least tell his sister he would be inviting Clara.
The phone call to Harry was abrupt, but mostly positive. She acknowledged that it was John’s wedding and that he and Clara had been friends exclusive of her relationship with Harry. She had started to work through some of her issues, and wanted to try to reach out to Clara once more, even just as friends.
The phone call to Clara was much longer. They hadn’t spoken in a while so spent most of the phone call catching up. She was over the moon when she heard John was getting married, but her excitement faltered when she realised Harry would be attending the wedding as well.
She resolved to attend anyway, but John couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty. He hoped that this would at least allow them to be civil, and maybe meeting on neutral ground - even with the painful reminders of their own wedding - would be good for them.
~~~
A week or so after they had returned to 221B, the finished guest list was sent to them for approval. Sherlock and John had contributed a grand total of three people; the rest had been invited by Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes. John did a bit of a double take when he saw Lestrade's name on the list as Mycroft’s plus one.
“That explains the text.” Sherlock said, resting his chin on John's shoulder while he read the list.
“What text?”
Sherlock waved his phone under John's nose. “The latest from Lestrade.”
John flicked through the menu and opened up the message.
From: G. Lestrade
Married? Is Mycroft having me on?
“Oh, yes, I meant to ask - how does your brother know Lestrade? And why did Mycroft look so uncomfortable when your mother asked about him?”
Sherlock smirked.
“He arranged a meeting with Lestrade – much like his first encounter with you – when I tarted working with the force.”
“So, when you say arranged, you mean kidnapped.”
Sherlock shrugged. “Semantics. Either way, they evidently continued their acquaintance after that. It would make sense to keep it quiet, and of course he was planning to use this event to announce his relationship without garnering too much attention.” Sherlock gestured to the guest list. “After he informed Mummy of our relationship I felt it was only right to do the same for him.”
“... relationship? Mycroft and Lestrade?”
“Yes, yes. I have tried to delete the knowledge, I suggest you do the same.” Sherlock sighed.
“... right.”
Sherlock refused to reply to the text. Which meant that Lestrade sent John the same text. When John replied that yes, Mycroft was telling the truth, Lestrade offered to take him for a drink to celebrate. John accepted, and even invited Sherlock. Predictably Sherlock refused point blank to even consider it.
They found a pub showing the Arsenal match, which at least gave them something to talk about. The conversation meandered; mostly safe things, sports, school, until John finally snapped.
“Come on, then. Spit it out. I know you're dying to ask.”
Lestrade blinked and tried to look innocent, John just raised an eyebrow at him.
“Fine. Sherlock. Really?”
“Mycroft. Really?”
They regarded each other across the table, before bursting into laughter.
“Oh God, what have we let ourselves in for?”
“I know, I know.”
“No, but seriously, now. Sherlock never seemed the type to do any relationship, never mind this sort of commitment.”
“Neither did I, but it’s practical, I guess? Makes things a bit easier in the long run.”
Lestrade looked at John, then nodded, and turned back to the TV on the wall.
~~~
“The ceremony will proceed as follows: There will be a reading, the exchange of vows and rings will take place, and then there will be another reading. After that, you will be introduced as the married couple and then on to the reception, which will be a sit down meal. Then people can mingle and generally have a good time. If you’ve got any thoughts on readings or songs, the next week would be a good time to get them to me. If not, I’ll assume you’ll be happy with them being picked for you.”
“Um. Who will be doing the choosing?” John looked between Mrs. Holmes and Mycroft, trying to imagine their version of romantic and failing miserably. He had visions of traditional prose in some form of archaic English, things which were supposed to be romantic if you looked deep enough, but all John saw was the weirdness on top.
“Myself and Mycroft most likely. Your sister has also stated an interest in helping with the planning.”
“Oh, god.”
“Whatever.” Sherlock snapped from his seat. “I still don’t see why we need to say the vows again. It’s just a waste of time.”
“Because you didn’t have a proper marriage, Sherlock. Does John even know the names of the witnesses?”
“What-”
“It matters. You both deserve a proper wedding. You can be as involved or as distant as you want, but there will be one and you will be there. Whether or not you have any influence is entirely up to you.”
Sherlock sat back in his chair, and John knew that he would have buried his chin is his coat, had he been wearing it.
John sighed.
~~~
John had no real intention of proposing any readings or music. Not really. He’d had a bit of a look but nothing had felt right, so he’d left it.
He was singing softly to Radio 2. He’d managed to get Sherlock to agree not to salvage parts from the radio (unless he already had a replacement), and listened a bit most days.
The slow strings of The Book of Love started and with a smile John sang along under his breath. Halfway through he realised that the background strings were no longer background. He walked to the doorway to find Sherlock playing along on his violin. John just watched for a while, still humming along softly.
Sherlock was always graceful in his movements, but when he was playing the violin, he could be beautiful. Not when he was playing because he was angry, or bored, but when the musician came out to play, John could (and had) spent an inordinate amount of time watching him. Sherlock quirked a smile, adding a slight flourish to the movements.
“This song would be acceptable.” Sherlock said, as the song finished.
John was silent for a minute. It was one of his favourites, but it seemed very unlike Sherlock, who mostly ignored modern music, unless it was to mock and deride it.
“Yeah, ok. we’ll let your mum know.”
~~~
From: Harry
I’ve found the reading I’m going to do at your do. It’s perfect!
To :Harry
What is it? Is it the wedding rites from Spaceballs? Or Princess Bride? Please don’t embarrass me
From: Harry
I would never! It’s already been approved by the wedding planners anyway!
To: Harry
I know you thought that would make me feel better, but it really doesn’t
Part Two
Paring: John/Sherlock, background Mycroft/Lestrade and Harry/Clara
Rating: R to be on the safe side
Warnings: Fluuufff. Boy kissing.
Word count: ~6500
Summary: They walked out of the registry office, the certificate clutched in John's hand. John kept reading the words over and over. Marriage solemnized at: Westminster Council House, and then underneath John Hamish Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
A/N: So a million years ago,
shortcrust won a fic from me on the help_nz fandom auction. She gave me lots of prompts, one of which was from the kink meme, requesting a John/Sherlock wedding fic. So, here it is! I'm so sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoy! <3 Thanks to sabrinaphynn for acting as a wonderful skull for my ramblings, gayalondiel for the beta and research about John's uniform and catchoo152 for being a wonderfully strict beta. They all deserve cookies, both internet based and real. Title from Shakespeare. All remaining mistakes are mine. I'm posting this now as I'll be without internet for a week or so due to moving.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
They walked out of the registry office, the certificate clutched in John's hand. John kept reading the words over and over. Marriage solemnized at: Westminster Council House, and then underneath John Hamish Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
The witnesses had been selected from Sherlock's homeless network (formal clothing courtesy of Sherlock's credit card). John would've preferred something slightly more personal, but then he had mentally flipped through all the people they knew and he cringed at their reactions, at the fuss they would inevitably make.
In the end, it was enough that they were married; no more arguments with doctors and nurses when one or the other was in hospital, a recorded next of kin whom he would actually want to wake up to in hospital bed, and a nice formalisation of this...thing that had sprung up between him and Sherlock.
When they got home, Sherlock surprised John by presenting him with a ring. It was simple, just a silver band. It was slid on to the appropriate finger of his left hand, Sherlock's long fingers curling around his own. John had to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning like a loon.
Sherlock then pulled a matching one – suspended from a chain – from a pocket, and asked John to help him put it on. He haltingly explained why it would be inconvenient for him to wear it on his finger – experiments, disguises etc. John silenced him with a kiss and, gesturing for him to turn around, took the chain out of Sherlock’s hands. He fastened the chain around Sherlock's neck, enjoying the line of silver against the pale skin.
From there it just seemed natural to nuzzle the back of Sherlock's neck, nibbling down towards his shoulder, hands sliding down his back and around his waist, until Sherlock made a noise in the back of his throat, and... well, it was their wedding day, after all.
~~~
Two days later, Mycroft appeared. John quickly retreated to the kitchen to make tea. He'd given up on being a mediator between the Holmes brothers long ago. Now he just hoped he didn't get too caught up in the crossfire.
“What do you want, Mycroft?”
“I merely stopped by to congratulate you both on your marriage, Mummy will be so pleased,” Mycroft said, smugly. “Ah. Thank you, John,” he murmured as John handed him his tea.
The look on Sherlock's face would have been hilarious if this had been any other situation. As it was, John started to worry. He'd not once considered family, only really having Harry himself. Would they want to... meet him?
“Why must you always interfere?” Sherlock's angry, clipped voice broke into John's increasingly panicked thoughts.
“I hardly think informing Mummy that you've finally settled down is interfering, dear brother. And I’m sure she won’t be disappointed that you never mentioned your intentions before committing yourself.”
Sherlock glared. Mycroft smiled sweetly and put his cup down. “Well, I must be going, but I'm sure I shall be seeing you soon. Mummy will be very excited about meeting you, John. Goodbye.” John had never seen Mycroft look so happy. It did not help with his low level panic.
Mycroft left, leaving both men in silence, but for different reasons.
“I can't believe he would do this,” Sherlock spat, standing up and starting to pace.
“Sherlock... Sherlock, you've never really spoken about your mother... I assumed she had, well, died?”
“No, we do speak – email, mostly. It's convenient for both of us. And I was going to tell her eventually, in my own way. Mycroft can't help but interfere. Oh, this will be intolerable. Of course Mycroft will bend to her every whim and I'll look like the bad child. Again.”
John took a deep breath and placed himelf in Sherlock's way, wanting partly to forestall a full-blown rant and but also to try to get information.
“Sherlock. Stop a minute, let's take it from the top. What can we expect from this... interference?”
Sherlock sighed and threw himself onto the sofa.
“Well, Mummy will want to meet you first, obviously. Then, there is a chance – a good chance – that she will try to persuade us to have a more formal ceremony.”
“...persuade us?”
“She will probably just go ahead and plan one, with or without our input.”
“Does that mean it can go ahead with or without us?” John asked, hopefully.
Sherlock fixed John with a withering stare.
“Fair enough.” John moved over to the sofa, picking up Sherlock's legs and moving them so he could sit down. Sherlock promptly put his feet in John's lap, toes curling into the denim of his jeans. “I'm wondering if it's worth calling Harry. She'll be horrible, but at least it would get it all over in one fell swoop.”
Sherlock remained pointedly silent. Sulking, John realised. He sighed, and dug his phone out of his pocket.
~~~
At first Harry was happy for them – although John could hear the twinge in her voice that told him she was thinking of Clara.
“And then-” John interjected, “his brother is going to tell his mum, and oh god I haven't met the parents in years. She will want us to have a proper ceremony, Harry.”
Eventually, Harry stopped laughing.
“It's not like you won't make a good impression, oh Saintly One: doctor, army doctor, crimefighter, general do-er of good etc.”
John got the feeling that Harry was missing the point.
“Let me know when the ceremony is. I'll buy a hat.”
~~~
Mrs Holmes was, unsurprisingly, a formidable woman. Roughly the same height as John, she had fading red hair and blue eyes that cut right through him. She also had a Holmes-like presence that expected your attention rather than demanded it.
“So. Dr. Watson.”
“Er, please, call me John.”
“John. I assume, since you've married my son, that your intentions are indeed good and you're not just interested in Sherlock's...lifestyle.”
“What? No, not at all. I-”
“You need to be needed, John, and have a thirst for danger, this much is obvious. It would make sense that Sherlock's lifestyle is intriguing to you. The problem is that along with the adventure and excitement, there are Sherlock's low, bored phases, and that can put people off. It's easy to see that for some, the adventure wouldn't be enough for them to put up with Sherlock's moods and eccentricities.”
“If I was there just for the adventure, I would've left before now. Some time in between the severed head in the fridge and the 3am violin sawing.” John folded his arms across his chest pushing down his annoyance at being interrogated.
Mrs Holmes smiled dryly, and patted his knee. John assumed he'd passed the test.
~~~
A week later Sherlock and John had travelled to the Holmes family home, at the behest of Mycroft, who had told them it would be easier to begin planning if they were all together.
“The journey had been intolerable, with Sherlock sniping and ranting almost constantly. Their arrival had hardly lightened the mood, and after greeting his mother in a barely polite manner Sherlock had stormed off into one of the bedrooms. John had been directed to a sitting room, where a pot of tea was waiting for him, while Mrs Holmes had disappeared after her son.”
It was hard enough making small talk with Mycroft at the best of times, but John found it even harder with his husband and mother-in-law having an argument above him. Sherlock’s loud bluster was occasionally interrupted by a quieter, calmer voice.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Holmes appeared at the door.
“John, upstairs, second door on the left is your room – there's an ensuite if you want to freshen up before dinner. Mycroft, what's this Sherlock tells me about a Detective Inspector Lestrade?”
John gladly made his escape, hoping to find Sherlock in a slightly better mood. He had no idea why Sherlock had mentioned Lestrade, but going by the look on Mycroft’s face it was something secret. And getting one over on Mycroft always made Sherlock happy.
~~~
John was sitting at a small table in the conservatory looking down at the many and varied brochures before him. There were advertisements for everything: gazebos, fountains for hire, ice statues, even bouncy castles. He smirked. Sherlock would probably like those.
“Sherlock. Sherlock, just how many people are going to be at this... wedding? Are we going to re-do our vows?” John pulled another magazine from the pile, waving the picture at Sherlock. “and does your mother really want us to consider a hot air balloon?”
“We didn't really have vows, John, we just recited whatever trite rubbish the officiant told us too.”
“You know what I mean, Sherlock.” John snapped.
Sherlock heaved a huge sigh. “I have no idea what torture would make my mother happy, but I expect vows will be a part of it.”
Sherlock was tapping away at his laptop, frowning at something on his website, or John's blog.
“At least without the religious bit the actual ceremony will be short. Just the reception to worry about.”
“The what?”
“You know, you get married, then have a reception where people eat, drink, be merry? Dance? Then the wedded couple get carted off on their honeymoon and there's more of the merry-making.”
Sherlock looked up from his laptop, and frowned at John as though he was being particularly stupid, which really John should be used to by now.
“Of course. Even if you had been to a wedding, you'd have deleted it.”
Sherlock just smiled at him, all teeth. John continued looking through catering brochures.
“Are you going to invite anyone? Lestrade?” John looked up from an article on wedding cake etiquette.
“Absolutely not.”
“Mrs. Hudson? We should definitely invite her, she'd never forgive us otherwise, and you push your luck with her a lot as it is.”
Sherlock nodded his assent.
“Shit, we're actually planning this.”
“I did tell you that Mummy could be persuasive.”
“You seem to be taking this a lot better than I thought. What with the socializing, adhering to pointless traditions and the lack of cases, I thought you'd have done a runner by now. I’m not even sure why I haven’t done a runner.”
Sherlock huffed a laugh.
“Mummy...made it clear that all this, the planning, the ceremony, meant a lot to her.”
“Oh.”
“Neither Mycroft nor I had ever shown any signs of committing to a relationship of any kind, never mind something like the permanence of marriage. Mummy accepted our lack of interest and had all but given up hope of either of us having a ceremony that she could contribute to and plan. So when Mycroft informed her that I was already married-”
“It didn’t go down well.”
“No, not at all. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not completely oblivious to these things. I realise that getting married in such a secretive fashion was hurtful to her, so, we have a ceremony.”
And that, as they say, was that.
~~~
On a whim, John put Clara’s name on the guest list. He then realised he should probably at least tell his sister he would be inviting Clara.
The phone call to Harry was abrupt, but mostly positive. She acknowledged that it was John’s wedding and that he and Clara had been friends exclusive of her relationship with Harry. She had started to work through some of her issues, and wanted to try to reach out to Clara once more, even just as friends.
The phone call to Clara was much longer. They hadn’t spoken in a while so spent most of the phone call catching up. She was over the moon when she heard John was getting married, but her excitement faltered when she realised Harry would be attending the wedding as well.
She resolved to attend anyway, but John couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty. He hoped that this would at least allow them to be civil, and maybe meeting on neutral ground - even with the painful reminders of their own wedding - would be good for them.
~~~
A week or so after they had returned to 221B, the finished guest list was sent to them for approval. Sherlock and John had contributed a grand total of three people; the rest had been invited by Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes. John did a bit of a double take when he saw Lestrade's name on the list as Mycroft’s plus one.
“That explains the text.” Sherlock said, resting his chin on John's shoulder while he read the list.
“What text?”
Sherlock waved his phone under John's nose. “The latest from Lestrade.”
John flicked through the menu and opened up the message.
From: G. Lestrade
Married? Is Mycroft having me on?
“Oh, yes, I meant to ask - how does your brother know Lestrade? And why did Mycroft look so uncomfortable when your mother asked about him?”
Sherlock smirked.
“He arranged a meeting with Lestrade – much like his first encounter with you – when I tarted working with the force.”
“So, when you say arranged, you mean kidnapped.”
Sherlock shrugged. “Semantics. Either way, they evidently continued their acquaintance after that. It would make sense to keep it quiet, and of course he was planning to use this event to announce his relationship without garnering too much attention.” Sherlock gestured to the guest list. “After he informed Mummy of our relationship I felt it was only right to do the same for him.”
“... relationship? Mycroft and Lestrade?”
“Yes, yes. I have tried to delete the knowledge, I suggest you do the same.” Sherlock sighed.
“... right.”
Sherlock refused to reply to the text. Which meant that Lestrade sent John the same text. When John replied that yes, Mycroft was telling the truth, Lestrade offered to take him for a drink to celebrate. John accepted, and even invited Sherlock. Predictably Sherlock refused point blank to even consider it.
They found a pub showing the Arsenal match, which at least gave them something to talk about. The conversation meandered; mostly safe things, sports, school, until John finally snapped.
“Come on, then. Spit it out. I know you're dying to ask.”
Lestrade blinked and tried to look innocent, John just raised an eyebrow at him.
“Fine. Sherlock. Really?”
“Mycroft. Really?”
They regarded each other across the table, before bursting into laughter.
“Oh God, what have we let ourselves in for?”
“I know, I know.”
“No, but seriously, now. Sherlock never seemed the type to do any relationship, never mind this sort of commitment.”
“Neither did I, but it’s practical, I guess? Makes things a bit easier in the long run.”
Lestrade looked at John, then nodded, and turned back to the TV on the wall.
~~~
“The ceremony will proceed as follows: There will be a reading, the exchange of vows and rings will take place, and then there will be another reading. After that, you will be introduced as the married couple and then on to the reception, which will be a sit down meal. Then people can mingle and generally have a good time. If you’ve got any thoughts on readings or songs, the next week would be a good time to get them to me. If not, I’ll assume you’ll be happy with them being picked for you.”
“Um. Who will be doing the choosing?” John looked between Mrs. Holmes and Mycroft, trying to imagine their version of romantic and failing miserably. He had visions of traditional prose in some form of archaic English, things which were supposed to be romantic if you looked deep enough, but all John saw was the weirdness on top.
“Myself and Mycroft most likely. Your sister has also stated an interest in helping with the planning.”
“Oh, god.”
“Whatever.” Sherlock snapped from his seat. “I still don’t see why we need to say the vows again. It’s just a waste of time.”
“Because you didn’t have a proper marriage, Sherlock. Does John even know the names of the witnesses?”
“What-”
“It matters. You both deserve a proper wedding. You can be as involved or as distant as you want, but there will be one and you will be there. Whether or not you have any influence is entirely up to you.”
Sherlock sat back in his chair, and John knew that he would have buried his chin is his coat, had he been wearing it.
John sighed.
~~~
John had no real intention of proposing any readings or music. Not really. He’d had a bit of a look but nothing had felt right, so he’d left it.
He was singing softly to Radio 2. He’d managed to get Sherlock to agree not to salvage parts from the radio (unless he already had a replacement), and listened a bit most days.
The slow strings of The Book of Love started and with a smile John sang along under his breath. Halfway through he realised that the background strings were no longer background. He walked to the doorway to find Sherlock playing along on his violin. John just watched for a while, still humming along softly.
Sherlock was always graceful in his movements, but when he was playing the violin, he could be beautiful. Not when he was playing because he was angry, or bored, but when the musician came out to play, John could (and had) spent an inordinate amount of time watching him. Sherlock quirked a smile, adding a slight flourish to the movements.
“This song would be acceptable.” Sherlock said, as the song finished.
John was silent for a minute. It was one of his favourites, but it seemed very unlike Sherlock, who mostly ignored modern music, unless it was to mock and deride it.
“Yeah, ok. we’ll let your mum know.”
~~~
From: Harry
I’ve found the reading I’m going to do at your do. It’s perfect!
To :Harry
What is it? Is it the wedding rites from Spaceballs? Or Princess Bride? Please don’t embarrass me
From: Harry
I would never! It’s already been approved by the wedding planners anyway!
To: Harry
I know you thought that would make me feel better, but it really doesn’t
Part Two
