Epilogue

"...I should know that you are no good for meeeee-"

"John?"

"'Cause you're hot then you're cold, you're yes then-"

"John!"

"-you're no. You're in then you're out-"

"JOHN!"

"Wha-what is it? Jesus fucking hell you scared shit out of me, Sherlock!" John yelped. He was leaning against the counter waiting for kettle to boil, headphones in, volume up because, God, he was sickeningly happy since yesterday when Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective in the world, had proposed to him.

Sherlock glared daggers at a very naked John Watson whose arse had been juggling on the music not five seconds ago and who wasn't answering his fiancé's desperate calls of annoyance until he had to get up from the sofa to pull the headphones out of John's ears.

"I was thinking, John!" Sherlock, wrapped in only sheet, yelled.

"And I was singing, Sherlock!" John said mimicking Sherlock's anger but failing terribly when giggles erupted through him. He just couldn't stop himself from being euphoric; so much that Sherlock was annoyed with him within 24 hours of his proposal.

"You are acting like a puerile."

"Oh, am I?" John asked pulling Sherlock's sheet tiny bit out of the way only to sneak in and press against the pale body underneath. He closed Sherlock's arms around him, securing them both in tight cocoon under the sheet.

"Yes, John, you are," Sherlock replied.

"Well, considering what we were doing an hour ago I assure you I'm not so puerile as you like to think," John said with a wink, wriggling his fingers in the taller man's pubic area.

"You are a sex maniac," Sherlock said coolly, his face not betraying giddiness in his stomach.

"Guess who is to blame."

John winked again and stood on tiptoes to crush his mouth on Sherlock's making the detective tighten his arms around John while the shorter man pulled him further down. The kiss grew heated. Somewhere in the background kettle whistled and clicked off. Sherlock shoved John's back against the kitchen counter, their bodies still wrapped in the sheet, thanks to the tightening grip of Sherlock's fingers on it behind John's back. The doctor reached out seeking support of the counter but missed it and sent some of Sherlock's beakers cluttering to the floor. Glass shattered in thousand pieces with loud sound. Not that anyone was giving a damn.

"Everything okay up there, boys?" Mrs. Hudson's voice echoed from below.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson. We are having sex on the counter," Sherlock shouted back.

"Sherlock!" fiercely John hissed. There was moment of silence from downstairs.

"Second round of the day, dear?" John's eyes widened.

"Of course!" Sherlock smirked at John triumphantly.

"I'll clean up the mess later, dear. You get on with it," Mrs. Hudson said.

"You think a lot, John," Sherlock smiled and looked down at the doctor who was shaking his head in the ridiculousness of it all. After a moment Sherlock said quietly, "I'm so happy, John."

John looked up with warm eyes and his hand touched Sherlock's cheek lightly. Sherlock's display of sentiment was a rare thing.

"Me too," John replied. "When do you want to have the ceremony, love? I have filled up both our forms already. And if you could ask your British Government brother to meddle we might get an early date."

"Please, John," Sherlock pouted. "Do not ask me to go to my brother for a favour. He'll consume my entire life to do his tedious legwork for him."

"Are you planning to tell him anytime soon? And we do need a person to sign as witness you know."

"I'll take The Skull." John giggled.

"You do know that's an inanimate object right?"

"I don't think he does," Mycroft Holmes' voice rang through the flat.

"Jesus, Mycroft!"

"Hello, John. Or should I say my soon-to-be brother in law?" Mycroft's lips curled up in perfectly suggestive and not at all pleasant smile. His eyes roamed all over Sherlock and John's bodies wrapped under the very thin sheet but leaving John utterly stripped under the gaze. Sherlock squeezed his arms tighter around John.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" Sherlock said between his teeth looking over his shoulder.

"I heard my brother was getting in a civil partnership. And I must say, Sherlock, it deeply wounded my heart to hear it from my subordinates."

"Tell your minions to bugger off. And you do too," Sherlock said returning his attention to John and bending down to kiss him again.

Sherlock and John were naked in the kitchen under the thin fabric of sheet that left nothing to the imagination; Mrs. Hudson knew they were shagging brains out and Mycroft was standing right in front of the lovers, twirling the umbrella watching his brother kiss his fiancé with no shame. Just a normal day at 221b.

"Sherlock, stop," John shoved the taller man back and directed his gaze over the man's shoulder to look at the British Government. "Mycroft, please wait in the living room. And please, please have some decency to knock before you enter."

"Apologies, Doctor Watson," And with a final smirk he turned.

John hopped down wanting the floor to gulp him in but Sherlock twirled the shorter man around so they were pressed chest to back and nudged at John's arse to retreat after Mycroft in the living room.

John's protests died in throat when Sherlock closed his fingers around John's semi hard cock.

"We were in the middle of sex, Mycroft." Sherlock said, wriggling fingers in pubic hair. John's prick twitched.

"Obvious," Mycroft said looking at the front of the sheet with an arched brow. He settled himself on John's chair wincing a little.

Now it was Sherlock's turn to smirk.

"Anyway, as Doctor Watson was kind enough to point out that I can speed up the process of your civil ceremony, I took the liberty to book forthcoming Friday."

Sherlock's fingers stilled around John's cock bringing him back to Earth.

"We are not your puppets, Mycroft. We will get it done whenever we want to," grumbled Sherlock.

"I don't think John agrees." Mycroft's said coolly beckoning at John with his chin.

"Sherlock, I want to be your partner as soon I can," John looked up at him with puppy eyes that he knew Sherlock could not argue with. "But Mycroft, this is not a favour and Sherlock won't do any of the legwork."

"Of course," Mycroft faked a smile. "Also, I've taken care of the reception too. Consider it a gift."

"We are having a reception?" John asked incredulously.

Sherlock's breath was coming in angry huffs on John's neck.

"It's a gift, Doctor," Mycroft said twirling the umbrella languidly. "And if you tell me the destination of your honeymoon that shall be arranged too."

"Hang on. We don't need your charity, Mycroft. Sherlock and I will manage."

"I'm sure you will. I was only offering."

Taking his clue, Mycroft stood up slowly, wincing again in the process.

"Get out, Mycroft," snarled Sherlock. "And do tell Lestrade to not be so forceful during sex that you cannot even sit without cringing. You are not twenty anymore."

Mycroft glared before he turned to leave.

In the end, everything worked out fine. John and Sherlock got married on Friday, Mycroft was one of the witnesses, they had a reception afterwards and Sherlock let his brother pay for their honeymoon.

Everything was fine.

"John, do you know the average married couple spends just four minutes a day alone together after they have kids?"

John looked up from his armchair to see Sherlock's sprawled figure on the sofa with his head buried in a magazine You and Your Marriage.

"I told you not to read those magazines," John sighed heavily. Sherlock had been giving him statistics about marriage and kids and even things they could try in the bedroom. Although he wasn't much minding the new sexual activities but listening him say weird statistics all the time - even when he was on the verge to orgasm - was getting exasperated.

"It's important for you to know what you're in for. That's the key for a successful marriage, says Amanda here."

John sighed and crossed the room and sitting on the sofa, he took Sherlock's head on his lap gaining an ecstatic grin.

"I know what I'm in for. Few chases across London every other week, having guns pointed at head sometimes, trying to entertain you when you're bored and making you eat and sleep on time. I've been doing that since I moved in," said John tangling his fingers in black locks.

Sherlock's face showed mixed emotions before he spoke, "But you do want kids."

John's hand halted in the detective's hair for a moment making Sherlock's throat tighten. He was anticipating for something to go wrong because nobody stayed with him for so long and definitely not for their whole life.

Sensing Sherlock's internal debate, John spoke quietly, "Wrong. I used to."

"You don't anymore?"

"I want kids if you want them too. I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to."

Sherlock's smile broke into a wide grin and he pressed his face in John's stomach.

Nobody wanted Sherlock around; yes that was true. But John Watson was never a nobody.

It was Wednesday afternoon when John woke up to find bed beside him empty. They had an excellent sex an hour ago and John was determined to make Sherlock stay with him and sleep for sometime.

John groaned and sat up. They had their wedding tuxedos tailored in the morning courtesy of Mycroft Holmes. The British Government was also taking care of the reception leaving Sherlock and John to have sex at all times.

"John?" Sherlock lanky figure appeared by the bed as John tried to struggle free from tangling mess of sheets. "I bought you something."

John's heavy eyes lifted to Sherlock's palm. Sherlock held out his hand.

"I think it's only reasonable we wear these."

John looked at the velvety box on pale palm knowing what was inside. Smiling mirthfully, he pulled the taller man on the bed.

"You bought them?" John asked opening the little box delicately. He fought the giddiness inside him that threatened to take over.

"That's the only way to restrain people from lusting after you," Sherlock said with a smile, proud of his own idea. John pulled the platinum rings out. They had three diamonds on each one throwing little rainbows on John's tanned skin. Sherlock marvelled at the sight.

"I knew you had a jealousy streak," said John and looked up at the genius. "Do you want to put them on now or on Friday?"

"It's got Friday's date on it," Sherlock indicated John to look at the inner rim. "And I can make sure nobody leches after you till then," Sherlock said lowering his voice which always made John all lustful.

"And how are you planning to do that?"

Sherlock smirked at the doctor in a very predatory way and John knew how.

On Thursday night Lestrade had arranged a bachelor's party for Sherlock and John. Later that night John was going to Greg's house because Holmes brothers were having breakfast next day with their Mummy and Sherlock didn't want John to meet Yvette Holmes until they're married officially because he feared she'd meddle in to cancel the whole thing. John had laughed at the suggestion but decided to trust Sherlock as he knew to what extent Holmes family could go to manipulate the results. Mycroft had offered them one of his black, shiny cars. They now were in the same car with no idea where Greg was taking them until it halted in front of a dingy looking pub with neon sign above that read 'Forbidden Nights'.

"A strip club, Greg?" John asked incredulously.

"A male strip club," Greg said and winked. John wanted the Earth swallow him up.

"I refuse to get out," Sherlock pouted by John's side.

"Seriously, Greg. What were you even thinking!"

"It's your last day of singlehood! Come on, don't be such a rotten sport! Even Myc promised to come"

"Wait- Myc? You mean Mycroft Holmes?" John asked eyes growing wider.

"Yeah," Greg actually blushed. Sherlock shuddered so violently that John thought he was going to throw up.

"So you two together or something now?" John asked smiling genuinely despite the moment.

"Yeah we made out-"

"Now I will definitely not come if you two are going to talk about my brother's sex life," Sherlock intervened in irritation. "John, come along. We are going to the Angelo's." Sherlock started getting out of the car but Greg pleaded more.

"No, no, no, don't go! We've a surprise for you in there!"

"What kind of surprise?" Sherlock asked with one eyebrow raised.

"If I tell you now that wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?"

"You have already told us there is a surprise. Wouldn't even make any difference if you tell what it is because I know anything that might happen in a male strip club wouldn't be so mind-bending of a surprise unless it's one of the strippers murdered."

Greg looked like he had lost the battle and been hit in the guts and more likely tired of listening to Sherlock's shit. John took a pity on him.

"Fine. We'll come," John said and when Sherlock started to protest he shushed him and continued, "But if it gets too much to bear we will leave. Agree?"

"Agreed," Greg exclaimed.

The club was dingier inside than it looked before. It had a huge platform on which three very much naked men were dancing to the music and women around were encouraging and putting money in the strippers' mouth. There was one stripper collecting money between his thighs while he kept swaying to the music. Sherlock looked at the strippers and their anatomy with rather alarming interest making John tighten his arm around him.

They were led away by a tall, dark bodyguard to the VIP area that separated from the club by a heavy metal door. It opened on their arrival after two bodyguard at the door checked their authentication and then let them in.

Once inside John and Sherlock were greeted by an unfortunate sight they thought they would never have to look at.

Mycroft Holmes was dressed impeccably in an evening suit and an umbrella hanging by backrest of the sofa where he had settled in a small and poorly lit VIP section they were in, with a bar in the corner.

And he was stuffing generous amount of money in a stripper's underwear.

Sherlock thought he was about to vomit and so he buried his head in crook of John's neck while the shorter man tried with his might not to betray what he felt inside.

Lestrade by the time was already at Mycroft's side and after thoroughly kissing his partner's mouth he had settled on his lap while The British Government stroked his thigh with one hand and other continued shoving money in obscene places.

"John, make them stop!" Sherlock whined in John's neck. He sounded as if he were sobbing. And John wouldn't blame him for it.

"We are going to survive through this, love. We've had worse," he said pulling Sherlock closer to him. But it seemed like he was assuring himself more.

"I'd gladly take a bullet through my brain than watch this."

"I'm planning to get drunk and pretend this never happened."

John pulled Sherlock to the sitting area while Sherlock refused to look up from John's neck. John settled them on the sofa beside Mycroft and Greg who were ravishing each others mouth thoroughly. A stripper noticed John and Sherlock in the room and danced towards them. His prick was swinging to the upbeat tune merely half an arm away. Sherlock's head snapped up.

"No, we won't give you money. John is taken. And don't even dare to come to us ever again throughout this evening."

The stripper looked at Sherlock dumbfounded.

"Go," Sherlock yelled and the poor man stumbled away.

"I need lots of drinks tonight," John sighed.

"I'll take care of that," and Sherlock was off to the bar.

After too many drinks and two hours into the night, John was starting to feel relaxed as he had drunken buzz to distract his mind. Sherlock had wandered off somewhere as always unable to sit idly leaving John with Greg and Mycroft who had thankfully stopped snogging.

"So have you told Sherlock where you're taking him for honeymoon, Doctor Watson?" Mycroft asked in his usual fake smiling voice.

"No. And I don't want you to," John said stuffing his mouth with the huge penis shaped cake which was supposed to be Greg's surprise for them. The cake tasted pretty good actually .

"Of course, of course."

"And I've decided to take care of the expenses. You don't have to meddle." Mycroft only smiled and John knew that smile very well.

John shaking his head was about to give Mycroft bloody Holmes piece of his mind when a shrill voice reached his ears.

"John! Look what he can do with his penis!"

John looked at Sherlock. The genius detective, high as a kite, was toying with a stripper's penis gleefully.

Sherlock was having time of his life.

"'ello?"

"John!"

"Sherlock?"

"Obvious. Are you fully awake, John?"

"Yeah. What time is it- Jesus Sherlock. It's 5 bloody am. We don't have to be at the registrar's until 10. Go back to sleep!"

"Sleeping. Boring. John we're in a atrocious crisis."

"Wha- Sherlock, are you okay? Bloody hell it's the fucking booze. Why the fucking hell did you drink at all night before our wedding?! Bloody fucking hell. Is Mycroft there? Ask his minions to fetch you paracetamol. Now. I mean it, Sherlock. I want you no less than your usual fucking self at the wedding."

"... Do you know you swear a lot more in the morning if you have slept under 5 hours?"

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"What about the bloody atrocious crisis?"

"Oh yeah, about that. John, I believe we are forced to postpone out wedding."

"What? Why? Are you okay, love?"

"I'm fine. Well, physiologically fit."

"What's happening, Sherlock?"

"I'm having a bad hair day."

"... What?"

"A bad hair day, John! It's all flattened and smelly- Don't you laugh, John Watson!"

"Oh God-Oh my... You're the bride of this marriage, you know that-"

"I'm not a bride and stop laughing! It's not even funny-"

"Bet your arse it's funny-"

"John, sober up and then talk. I'm not talking to a juvenile-"

"All right. Ahem. So your hair is flattened and smelly, you say? Go to the bathroom. Use my shampoo. You can ask Mrs. Hudson for her hair curling iron. And go downstairs. Don't shout."

"What would I without you, John?"

"You're welcome. Let me sleep now. You don't wanna deal with a grumpy army doctor on your wedding day. Love you. Can't wait to marry you."

"... I you too."

"I know."

One of Mycroft's shiny cars escorted John to a lavish hotel on the banks of Thames. John was shown to his room where he was supposed to keep their luggage (they were leaving immediately for honeymoon) and get ready before coming to where the wedding was going to take place. He had bubbles of nervousness in his stomach. He hadn't heard from Sherlock since their call in the morning. He didn't want all this fuss of big fat wedding really. But if marrying love of his life as soon as possible meant having a dreamlike ceremony overlooking Thames, he wouldn't complain.

"You okay, mate?" Lestrade asked. John met his eyes in the mirror as he stood in front of it straightening his tux. It was a lead black tux exactly like Sherlock's. But he had to admit it looked better on the detective.

"Yes. Just nervous," John answered.

"I can understand. Sherlock is in the next room, by the way. Do you want to see him?"

"I think I'll wait until the ceremony."

With a knock on the door, Mrs. Hudson entered. She stood dumbstruck by the door gaping at John.

"You handsome man," Her voice trembled. Her eyes filled. "If that man of yours hurts you, John, I will make him pay real and good."

"Mrs. Hudson," John smiled fondly and walking across the room, wrapped arms around the fragile woman. "You don't have to worry, Mrs. H. I won't let him."

"Take good care of him,will you?" she broke into new segment of sobs on John's tux. But he wasn't arsed to care even as his tux got wet smudges on the front. "He is a bit handful. But he loves you, John."

"I know, Mrs. H," John murmured soothingly. Lestrade smiled at them two from corner. "I'll take care of him, alright? I love him too."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and pulled away wiping tears away.

"Now, now. No tears today. Come on, dear, stand there. I need a good photograph of you in that lovely tux."

She clicked a picture of John alone and one with Greg. With final fond look at John she went out.

On the other side of the wall, Sherlock was more freaked out. He was throwing his stuff around, shuffling through his luggage and making it messier. Half of its contents were scattered around the room and rest of it joining the mess steadily. All the while he muttered to John who he knew wasn't there but did it anyway.

"Woo-hoo," Mrs. Hudson's signatory indication of her presence was ignored.

"Oh my! What are you doing, dear?" Mrs Hudson picked her way through the scattered room.

"Ring! Where is the ring?" Sherlock bellowed not ceasing a moment in his frantic search.

"Your wedding ring, dear?"

"Obvious. WHERE IS IT?"

"You know you never let me touch your things!"

"Then go away-"

"Now brother dear, don't be so childish," Mycroft said disappointedly as he entered the room.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock scoffed.

"For one thing I'm one of the witnesses. And you gave my the ring, Sherlock. Here." He handed him the ring. Sherlock visibly relaxed but again defiance took its place again.

"It's hardly my fault you go sneaking through my stuff," Sherlock grumbled. "Tell your minions to repack my luggage."

"My subordinates are not at your disposal, Sherlock-"

"Now, now. No fighting, boys. Mycroft, leave the ring here and go stand by your brother. I want a photograph of you two."

Mycroft looked as if the idea insulted his soul but did as asked. Sherlock with his hair all rumpled stood tersely by his brother straightening his posture to minimise difference between their heights which was hardly there anyway. Mycroft with his umbrella in hand stood some distance away making no attempt to smile as Mrs. Hudson said 'Cheese!'

After their little photo session, Anthea - as John called her - entered and told them the registrar was ready and almost all the guests were seated waiting for the couple. Sherlock straightened his hair and tux a bit and walked out snatching the ring on his way out.

The ceremony was set up overlooking Thames in a huge garden at back the hotel. Stewards and stewardesses were offering the drinks politely to the guests. Food was being set up in the far corner. The registrar, thanks to the elder Holmes brother, was agreed to attend private ceremony to legalise the civil partnership on such a short notice. He stood up as he saw Sherlock emerging from a massive mahogany door decorated with lilies. The sky was cloudless and clear. Morning sunlight was warm. The sight of the lilies and flowers covering the entire staging area along with trellis adorned above it made Sherlock crook his nose in disgust as if the beautiful sight before him offended him. He shot Mycroft an irritated glance who shrugged it away with a hint of smile.

Sherlock stood by the registrar's side while Mycroft got their vows approved and did other arrangements. The consulting detective swept his vision across the attendees. He saw his mother sitting in the front row with a tiniest possible smile on her face. But Sherlock knew that was the most she could manage at the social gatherings. Yvette's personality was radiating authority all the while; so much that seats beside her were left empty. At the far corner in the front row sat Harry Watson - three glasses of booze since morning, on verge of getting wasted, not so happy to be here, mostly jealous of her brother - sat with her date. Sherlock deduced Harry was not entirely fond of her date but just to show John that she was doing better she'd brought her. He saw Mrs. Hudson photographing attendees from all directions until it made them awkward. They were trying to avoid her subtly but Mrs. Hudson was difficult to dishearten. Then there was Molly Hooper with her date. She was being quite clingy to him. That made Sherlock worry a bit wondering if this new arrangement would harm his access to the morgue.

His gaze followed Mrs. Hudson as she moved from awkward cousin of John's to some yarders. Sherlock knew John was on friendly terms with three of them. He craned his neck to see the face of the fourth yarder. An awkward angle of neck and Sherlock saw who it was.

Michael Johnson.

Sherlock's brain didn't register somebody was calling his name until John's fingers gripped his forearm to deflect death stare from Michael. Sherlock looked at John with annoyance and John swallowed thickly, waiting for The Wrath.

"John, when I assumed you were going to make list of the guest I did not expect your ex-lover would be invited," Sherlock hissed. John looked awkwardly around to find the registrar, Mycroft and DI (who was a witness too) looking at the pair with eyebrows raised and faces oozing with judgment. He mumbled apologies to them and taking Sherlock by his elbow dragged him out of earshot.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, doctor," Sherlock grumbled when John didn't talk fidgeting on his feet.

"First off, he was not my lover. We didn't even go out for goodness' sake!"

"But you did wish to be his lover, didn't you? And I don't want him undressing you when I'm conforming my love to you."

"Sherlock, I've wished to be Megan Fox's lover too but that doesn't mean I'm undressing her with my mind powers when we're taking vows!" Sherlock glared at the new information understanding only 'undressing Megan Fox'. "God, Sherlock, this is ridiculous. I'm yours and I'm not leaving you for Michael or Megan- which is not even a remote possibility and I don't even want to- and last I heard Michael is seeing someone and I'm marrying you so we're both off the market," John said hurrying every word because a woman who displayed a lot of Holmes-Genes was glaring at him with cold eyes. John decided those eyes made him shit-cold inside. "Can we go now?"

Sherlock straightened his already straight tux and said, "This does not make me happy. Don't expect any hospitality."

That made John more distressed but he nodded.

"Thank you. And I love you." Couldn't wait for the ceremony as desperate as he was to assure his faithfulness to the detective, John quickly pecked Sherlock on lips.

Sherlock smiled just a little and mumbled something very much like 'Iloveyoutoo' that made John to kiss him again. And not just a peck this time.

They returned hand in hand, mouths pretty obviously swollen. Mycroft and Greg, their two witnesses had already taken their places in front of the registrar. Mrs. Hudson had focussed all of her attention to John and Sherlock now, taking her eyes away from the lens only to sniff and dab her eyes on her handkerchief as she continued to cry tears of mirth.

Registrar started talking about love, life, happiness and things such which both Sherlock and John weren't listening to. Sherlock after every three seconds shot Michael heated gaze that made the poor man fiddle in his seat. John resolutely looked at Sherlock through the ceremony hoping Sherlock would not do something stupid. Mycroft looked across the two men and their swollen lips with disgusted face. Greg had his eyes for Mycroft, wandering on his body and hoping he'd be the one taking vows one day.

In short nobody gave a shit to what the registrar was saying until he asked if they wanted to do the rings.

John nodded and Sherlock looked away from Michael ( who left his seat immediately; something in Sherlock's eyes must have scared him away) and looked down at John, his eyes going from wrathful to placid. John beamed up at him and Sherlock couldn't help but smile back. Mycroft gave him the ring and Greg gave John. John took a step forward. Taking Sherlock's palm in his gently he slid the ring on. His stomach did a somersault as if he were a bloody teenager. He caressed the finger and Sherlock let him. Slowly and gently without taking his eyes off his doctor, Sherlock took his hand away and captured John's. He grazed the ring-less finger knowing he would never want to see it so bare ever again (Never say that out loud). He slipped on the ring and before his mind could over think and refrain from displaying the sentimentality, Sherlock quickly kissed the ring finger. John looked as if he'd die of blissfulness. Women in the onlookers 'awww'ed. Mrs. Hudson snapped the picture and cried few new tears. Woman-With-Holmes-Genes smiled only a bit more. And Sherlock hoped they would all vanish in thin air except John.

They exchanged vows. Witnesses and the couple signed where they were told to. Registrar announced them civil partners and told them to kiss if they wished to. John pulled Sherlock by lapels of his tux and squashed their mouths together, immediately involving tongue. Kiss grew heated, Greg pulled Mycroft in for a soft kiss, registrar watched awkwardly while crowd of twenty-four people cheered for the happy couple.

Reluctantly John withdrew and looped his arm with his legal partner as people crowded the staging area to congratulate them.

Mrs. Hudson towed them both in rather bone-crashing hug, cried on their tuxes. Sherlock patted her back rather vigorously, not really in a soothing manner but Mrs. Hudson appreciated the gesture nonetheless before she returned to her photographing-spree.

Next came Mycroft and Greg, arms around each other. Greg hugged John and by the look on Sherlock's face understood it wouldn't be welcome to hug him. He shook his hand affectionately though. Mycroft for the first time in life smiled genuinely, however small it was, at them and to everybody's disbelief Sherlock smiled back to.

"I hope you know this is a lifetime commitment, John," Mycroft said conversationally to John taking his hand in his firm grip.

"Er- is this some kind of elder-brotherly, If-You-Break-His-Heart-I'll-Make-Your-Life-Hell talk? Because we've sort of had it when we first met, Mycroft," John said. Sherlock snickered. Mycroft faked a smile.

"You're a wise man, Doctor Watson. Or should I say Doctor Watson-Holmes?"

"That was rather the point of changing the surname, Mycroft. Do keep up," Sherlock retorted. John elbowed him and Sherlock sighed like a damsel-in-distress. Greg drew Mycroft aside before few insults turned into full-fledged fight.

Woman-With-Holmes-Genes was next. John stood straight, straightened his tuxedo again because he was already intimidated by mere presence of her. Elegantly dressed, Yvette Holmes with faintest of trace smile on face stopped in front of Sherlock and John.

"Mummy," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock."

As if John were a lifeless statue, Holmes Mother and Son engaged in the War of Glare forgetting John's presence. John wondered if he should walk away and give them some privacy.

"Doctor John Watson-Holmes, my husband," Sherlock said when John started to retract his arm from Sherlock's, without taking his eyes away from Mummy Holmes.

Her mouth curled up at corners and she finally looked at John. John tried to smile that didn't seem like scared rabbit's but failed miserably.

"A word, Doctor Watson-Holmes?" She said in a sweetest but fake way possible reminding John of Mycroft. John looked behind her to see the queuing crowd but daren't to do other than what he was told. He nodded and withdrew from Sherlock's arm which tightened reflexively.

They walked a dozen footsteps and then Mummy Holmes abruptly stopped.

"I hope you know my elder son holds a very influencing position in the British Government, Doctor Watson," she spoke quietly. Her gray eyes pierced John's. John shifted from one foot to another awkwardly.

"Er, yes, Mummy Holmes. I mean Mrs. Holmes," John blabbered and she raised her eyebrow ever so delicately and gracefully.

"I'd also like to tell you I was an ex-employee of Secret Intelligence Service for Her Majesty and I assure you I have very authoritative people on my speed-dial."

"Okay..?"

"What I'm trying to convey here is one wrong intention towards my son and you'll be well taken care of," Mrs. Holmes said as if they were simply talking about flower arrangement and not intentions of killing John. John's palms were sweating by now.

"I-I am aware, Mrs. Holmes."

"Good to know," She said and started to walk away. John looked at her flabbergasted. She turned a bit and said, "Oh and do visit Holmes Manor this Christmas, won't you, John?"

"Yes, ma'am," John said suddenly feeling like a schoolboy. She counterfeited a smile and disappeared.

John returned to Sherlock's side, much too dazed and anxious, so much that he didn't notice who Sherlock was talking to until Michael said, "Hello, Mr. Watson," Michael said. Sherlock made a sound of irritation and Michael immediately added, "I mean, Doctor Watson-Holmes."

"Michael. Good to see you," John said extending his hand. Michael looked hesitantly at it and then at Sherlock and then took it in his. John got the picture.

"Er- I should go," Michael said.

"Make sure you eat before you go," John said at the same time Sherlock said 'Yes. Leave.'

He looked from Sherlock to John and then nodded and went away.

Later came Molly, Harry and people from the yard and people Sherlock didn't feel acknowledging. After a short time Mrs. Hudson announced it was time to dance.

"Shall we?" John extended his hand with a slight bow. Sherlock took a moment to decide and then gripped his palm. John led them to the dance floor.

There as a moment of argument when they both wanted to lead. Eventually and as always, Sherlock won. John put his left hand on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock's fingers pulled him closer resting on his lower back.

Pachelbel Canon by Johan Pachelbel in D major started playing in the background.

Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he looked down at John.

"You selected the song."

"Yes, I did," John said smiling lightly. Sherlock slowly started to move to the music. "I knew you liked it."

Sherlock didn't speak. His eyes closed on their own accord. He buried his face in John's neck.

"Are you okay, love?" John whispered in his ear even though he knew Sherlock was okay. He was only having a Sentiment-Moment. Sherlock nodded in his shoulder.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Sherlock lifted his head from John's shoulder and nodded.

"When did you know you had feelings for me?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment. He gripped John tightly before he answered.

"When you started going out on dates. I didn't like it. Not a bit. I couldn't concentrate. My mind palace became mess just thinking of you with idiot meatball. I had to interfere in some of your date, like you had one with the teacher, when I felt like it was moving forward."

He took a breath and continued, "I didn't know depth of my feeling until that forensic head asked you out."

"Michael?"

"Yes. I would have murdered to be in his place."

Sherlock's fingers slid down and gently tugged at John's arse. John let him.

"Where are we going for Honeymoon, John?"

"Have you not figured it out?" John raised his eyebrows.

"I have some ideas," Sherlock said whirling them around as couple started to join them on the floor.

"Let's have them, then."

"Switzerland?"

"Nope."

"Thailand?" he asked crooking his nose and John giggled.

"Not even close."

"Then where?"

"Turkey. West provinces of Ayin."

"Cine Apiculture Museum!" Sherlock's eyes widened.

John beamed. "Yes."

Sherlock ducked down and pressed his mouth to John's. John slowly opened his mouth while Sherlock licked his lower lip. Sherlock's grip on the shorter man's arse tightened. John threw both of his arms around Sherlock's neck and kissed back passionately.

"I love you so fucking much," John whispered resting their foreheads together.

Sherlock brushed his nose against John's.

He whispered back in a husky voice, "The feeling's mutual."

A/N:*Ba dum tss*

That's the end, lovelies!

I really hope you liked the story. God, I don't want it to stop writing it! D:

Also Pachelbel Canon by Johan Pachelbel in D major is actually a beautiful composition. Check it out if you are into classical music. :)

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