A/N: I wrote this after learning missed my beta, old ping hai's birthday last month, so I did this sweet little johnlock for her as a belated birthday present. She liked it so much that she beta'd it for me so I could share it with you lovely people.
Sherlock fiddled with his tie for the tenth time in five minutes. John slapped his hand.
"You look fine," John told his friend. He sighed. "Thanks for coming with me, Sherlock. I hate going to weddings by myself. They always treat you like fresh meat."
"It's fine, John, really. I'm just not a fan of neckwear," Sherlock said, his hand going up to his throat and then aborting the movement with his own answering sigh.
"I know you're not. Which is why I doubly appreciate you doing this for me. I owe you so much."
Sherlock just shrugged one shoulder. "I'm glad I was able to help." He paused looking thoughtful. "Though I did wonder why you didn't take your girlfriend du jour."
"Hey, my relationships last longer than a day," John protested.
"Du la semaine, then," Sherlock amended with a smirk.
"Oh, ha ha." John ran his fingers through his hair. "There is just something about taking someone you're dating to a wedding. And unless you are really secure in the relationship, it's just not done. I've only gone on three dates with Emily-"
"Erin. Emily was two girlfriends ago," Sherlock murmured.
"God damn it. I can't even keep them straight anymore. You know what? I'm done. No more women. Just you and me."
Sherlock didn't say anything for the rest of the journey.
They got out of the cab and just before they entered, Sherlock grabbed John's arm. John looked at the hand that held him, then up to his friend.
"Do you trust me?" Sherlock asked, his voice low and his face was earnest.
"You know I do," John said. "What's this about?"
"I'm going to run an experiment. Just follow my lead. And if it fails, we won't speak a word of it ever again and if anyone asks, just tell them it was a lark. If it succeeds, you won't have to worry about failed dates and not being able to keep those women straight ever again."
"All right," John agreed, wondering what it was he had just agreed to.
Sherlock took a deep breath and then muttered, "Fortune favors the brave."
Sherlock slid his hand down John's arm and took the doctor's hand in his. John looked at their connected hands and blushed. He let out a slow breath and straightened his shoulders.
"Shall we?" he asked.
Sherlock nodded. Perhaps this was going to go better than he thought.
John led them into the church and sat them in the middle on the right, the side belonging to the groom. John never let go his friend's hand.
Sherlock rested their clasped hands on his knee. John looked up at the detective as though he were seeing him for the first time. Sherlock blushed.
The younger man began mapping out all the lines, scars, and spots on John's left hand with his thumb. The doctor's breath hitched as Sherlock hit a sensitive spot.
A small smile graced his friend's face at the reaction. John opened his mouth to say something but the music started and he was forced to pay attention to the ceremony.
The groom was an army buddy of his who had found him again through his blog. He had been pleased to get the invitation until it came time to decide on plus one or not to plus one. But once he decided to bring someone then came the challenge of who to bring. There was no way he was going to ask Erin. She was already planning the names of their children and bringing her to this would only be confirmation that they were 'meant to be' or whatever rubbish she was spouting this week.
He couldn't take another girl, not only because it would upset his girlfriend, but they would assume that there was more to the invitation than he intended. Which meant a male friend. And if he was honest there was only one person on the list of men he'd want to take with him. Sherlock Holmes.
He had been surprised when the taller man had agreed without so much as an incentive to do so. Now he knew why. Sherlock had been harboring feelings for him. He pushed that thought aside for a moment to listen to the vows. They were delightful. John could tell that they truly loved each other. Too soon the bride and groom were making their way back up the aisle as husband and wife.
John stood up and Sherlock stood with him. Once it was their turn to exit the chapel, the detective let go of his hand and John felt this strange sense of loss. He needn't have worried, because as they entered the aisle, Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's waist.
John smiled up at his friend and then leaned in close. For someone who appeared to have been hewn out marble, Sherlock was very warm. Pleasantly so. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock, though due to the height difference, his arm hung more at the tall detective's hips than his waist. John found himself more thrilled at how well the experiment was doing than he thought possible.
A dash of red dusted Sherlock's cheeks. This was going brilliantly. John was pressed into his side like he belonged there and that left the detective feeling elated.
They moved outdoors to the garden where the reception had been set up. They walked to the queue to congratulate the bride and groom. They stayed firmly attached as they made their way to the front of the line. John let go of Sherlock's waist to shake hands.
"John!" the groomed greeted. "So glad you could make it." He saw Sherlock with his arms firmly wrapped his friend and he grinned. "So what happened to 'Three-Continents Watson,' eh, John?" He gave his friend a lusty wink.
"Oi! Bertie! Careful there, or I'll have to tell your lovely bride about that one leave we had in Shanghai," John grinned wickedly.
Both Sherlock and the bride turned the pair of them, suddenly very interested.
"Oh, do tell, John," Sherlock purred.
"Yes," the bride agreed.
Bertie blushed and muttered, "Later," in his wife's ear. John laughed at his friend's discomfort.
"It's good to see you, Bertie," John said. "Congrats, mate." He kissed the bride's cheek and then they turned away.
John found their seats, 'Captain John H. Watson' and 'Watson's Plus One'. They shared their table with an old married couple and a pair of twenty-somethings, clearly the daughters of the married couple.
Sherlock moved his chair closer to John's and away from the oldest daughter, who was eyeing the detective like he was a delectable treat.
They sat down and waiter came with a couple of glasses of champagne.
"Would you prefer the steak and potatoes with steamed vegetables or the chicken pilaf with baked brussels sprouts?"
"I'll take the steak, medium well, and Sherlock will have the chicken," John informed the waiter, who nodded and disappeared.
"Oh, that is so sweet," the mother gushed. "Knowing what your boyfriend wants without having to ask."
Sherlock blushed, but John just laughed.
"It's more a doctor thing, really. He forgets to eat most of the time, so the chicken and rice is easier on his sensitive stomach."
"Oh? Why would he forget to eat?" she asked.
"He's a detective and when he's on a case he is completely focused on solving it. I try to get food in him when I can, but I know that the case comes first. I can usually convince him to eat a bag of crisps or some biscuits while waiting for results. And then after, I make sure he gets more healthy foods. But it does make his stomach more sensitive."
"Well, I think it's lovely that you can take care of him like that. I'm Alice, this is Fred. These are my daughters, Joyce and Barbara," she said, introducing her little family. Barbara, the one who had been eyeing Sherlock, turned away from them with a pout. Joyce and Fred smiled, though.
"So, how long have the two of you been together?" Fred asked.
"Years," Sherlock drawled. John, who had being taking a drink, nearly choked. Sherlock rubbed his back. "Are you okay there, love?" Sherlock asked.
John nodded. That bastard, John thought darkly. It was a lie of omission. We have been together for years; but as partners, not lovers.
John knew how to get the detective back, though. He just had to wait.
They talked some with their fellow attendees awhile, until it was announced that the couple was going to have their first dance.
John twisted in his chair to watch the happy couple dance their way across the pavement. Once it was announced that the dance floor was open for everyone, John dragged his friend to the dance floor at the first slow song.
They stopped in the middle of the floor and John looked up at Sherlock, a large grin splitting his face.
"Fine," the dark-haired man groused. "But I lead."
"Okay," John agreed. "It's your experiment, after all."
Sherlock gulped and took the doctor's hand, leading them around the room. As the song progressed, the doctor inched closer. By the time the song ended, John's head was on Sherlock's chest.
"Please tell me this is real," Sherlock pleaded. John left his head up and then with gentle push off with his toes, he closed the distance to the detective's lips. At first there was nothing but the warm press of lips and then Sherlock began to return the kiss with enthusiasm.
John ran his fingers through the taller man's hair, reveling in its texture.
"John," Sherlock breathed when he pulled back from the kiss. "Do you mean it?"
"Yes," he replied and then surged forward to reclaim those lips. "Just you and me against the world. Like always."