Its not long after the second dance, the smiles and hugs he sends to everyone its not long but its been long enough. Sherlocks' not there, not even watching and its unsettling. He tries to play it off but Mrs Hudsons' words eat at him. Things change.
But this was Sherlock, nothing was going to change, not for the worse. He steps out into the open, breathing in the air and stares into the sky. Tomorrow he would be leaving for the honeymoon, it was going to be short (despite Sherlocks' protests that he would be fine on his own) and it was only in Europe so he should be calm but hes not. Sherlocks' left and there's a part of him that worries he's not coming back. The words he said earlier still haunt him, not to do this on Johns day.
Had he been considering that? Why? Hadn't he be honest enough with him, straightforward enough with him so that he got the message.
Or was it him who didn't get it, marriage changes people they say, a baby changes people too but at the same time, so much change it was no wonder Sherlock had run away. His legs seizes up for a moment before beginning to walk along the grounds. He couldn't be still now, his mind was racing, part of him hopes to find Sherlock lurking around one of the corners or in the bushes, part of him wants another 'not dead' like appearance because it was better than the thoughts in his head right now.
John couldn't loose Sherlock again.
Loose... his walking slows as the thought roams his mind, today was about what he had gained and what he would not loose and yet here he was, wandering around the grounds alone in the dark thinking about Sherlock leaving him.
There's some rowdy singing back at the building that eventually snaps him back to attention, he puts the thoughts behind him and walks back. He was going to be a father, his kid was going to have the most ridiculous god parent in history and John was sure the child was going to love him. After all how couldn't they.
He finds Mary waiting for him by the doors, holding out her arms he falls into her embrace willingly. It would be okay, Sherlock would be okay, Mary would be okay and the child would be okay. He kept telling himself this for most of the night, Mary holding him, even without words she understood.