OK so yeah, this is just a short oneshot (Because I didn't feel like writing another chapter) about John and Mary. yayy! Excuse me of the lameness of this, it's the first ever fic I wrote.
"Honey, do you want some tea?"
"Yes, thank you. I'd love that"
John took his eyes off the coffee table and closed them for just a second. At least that's what he thought, until he was talked to again.
"There you go, honey."
"Thank you, that's lovely."
John took a sip from the tea and looked at the list in his hands.
"OK, so… shall we start?" asked Mary. John didn't answer. "John?"
"Oh, right. Yes. Of course. Let's start."
She put her hand on his arm. "We can do that tomorrow, if you prefer that."
"No, that's… that's fine. That's perfectly fine." He smiled at her, then took her hand off his arm and kissed it.
They worked for an hour or so. At first Mary put the invitations on the envelopes and John wrote the addresses. After a few minutes Mary noticed John's doctor hand-writing was unreadable, so they switched roles. While they did that, Mary told him about her day with the children she was watching, and John told her about her day. then, as usual, they talked about the news, politics, new scientific explorations, and of course about new murders- those kind of things.
After an hour Mary checked they remembered everyone- her parents, his parents, his sister, his boys from the organic, her childhood friends- while John counted the envelopes and listened to Mary reading out loud.
"OK, so, I think we did everyone, right?"
"Right." John answered, sealed the last envelope and put it on top of the pile.
"Well done us, then!" she smiled and kissed him lighty. Then she noticed that last envelope.
"Umm, John? It says Sherlock Holmes on that one."
"What?" said John, unfocused, as he stared into the fireplace, and then looked at Mary. "Oh, yes. I know."
Mary almost thought, when they met, John Watson was mad, because of how he reacted whenever he heard that name. It took her a while to understand how deep the friendship between these two was.
"Well then…" she said peacefully. "What do you want to do with it?"
"Umm… I don't know," he mumbled, confused. It was the first time he thought about it. It was automatically for him to write Sherlock as one of the invited guests.
"I guess I'll just… take it to the cemetery. Maybe to the flat at Baker street. I don't know." He finished.
"I see." Answered Mary and smiled at him sadly.
"You know, it's just…" John had the need to explain himself. "He has to be invited. I can't go to that wedding with a full heart and know I didn't invite him. If he was here… actually, if he was here, he would probably come without an invitation, breaking in in the middle of the ceremony, and then tell everyone that the friar is actually guilty of that murder on Oxford last week." John smiled to himself as he imagined this scene in his mind.
"I know," Mary said and sat on his lap. "I know darling. You can invite any one you want. And I'm sure that if he knew that you kept an invitation for him, he'd be very very-" she stopped. "Very very what?" asked John in expectation to hear the end of her sentence.
"Thankful." She finished her sentence, still frozen. Then she turned her head back to him. "He'd be very very thankful."