This is my first Sherlock fic so apologies for any OOCness

Reviews and critics are greatly appreciated!

(This is all in Johns POV by the way)

Meeting The Family

The night found Sherlock and I in one of many Holmes' fancy parties. After a few months of well, dating, (yes you heard me right John I'm-Not-Gay Watson is in a relationship with one Sherlock Not-So-Asexual Holmes; inevitable, really.) Sherlock decided it was finally time to introduce me to his mother.

So, here I am, dressed impeccably, if I say so myself, in a perfectly tailored black suit with a dark blue shirt that compliments my eyes amazingly underneath it. To say that I was nervous was a large understatement, I spent most of the car ride there fidgeting with my collar and sweating because god is it just me or is it fucking hot in here?

The moment we stepped inside the large, architectural building the party-ball-thing, one of Mycroft's men ushered us to the corner of the room. The party was at full swing, I realized, people waltzing on the dance floor and rich old men laughing and drinking champagne.

When we finally found our seats I practically flopped down on it, but then caught myself and straightened my back. Sherlock sighs and takes my hand from underneath the table, shocking me so much I flinched. He frowns, and I winced, "I- sorry."

"We don't have to do this, you know. These masses of idiots are starting to decrease my IQ." He reassures, lips twitching to his usual not-quite-smile.

I squeezed his hand and grinned, "No," I said breathily, "No, I'm fine. I can do this."

He nods and scans the room, his eyes, pale blue tonight, moves around the room to find his mother. He stops and tightens his hold on my fingers, "There," he says, thrusting his chin to my left. I follow his line of sight to find myself eye to eye with a beautiful dark haired woman; she was about as tall as I am, with stoic aristocrat features and baby blue eyes, her dress was black and floor length, complementing her fair skin.

He greets her with a nod and a small, "Mummy." I, on the other hand, rose from my chair and took her hand, the gentleman in me making itself known, and bent down to kiss the back of it, "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holmes."

She blinks, surprised for a second before she smiled, a smile that reminded me so much of Sherlock himself, "Call me Victoria," She said, "and you must be John Watson," I smiled and nodded, "I've been dying to meet you. Never have I met a man who'd stay by Sherlock this long." She laughs.

I relaxed and grinned widely, my eyes crinkling slightly, "He can be a bit of a handful at times, I suppose." I joked.

Sherlock huffed, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. Victoria rolls her eyes at her youngest and ushers him away with the hand that was not holding a glass of champagne, "Sherlock, be a dear and grab John a drink, will you?" They shared a look before Sherlock nods gives my hand a small squeeze before reluctantly moving away to find some champagne.

My gaze drifted to his lean black clad back, the smallest of smiles tugging my lips. There was silence for a few long moments, before Victoria turns her curious gaze towards me; she takes a long slow breath before asking, straight to the point, "Do you love him?"

I shook my head without hesitation, "No," I answered, smiling wider by the second. The eldest Holmes sucks in a surprised breath and tensed, frowning; but before she could retort I continued, "What I feel for Sherlock Holmes is nothing akin to love," I explained, slow and steady. I craned my head towards her, the smile turning into a soft grin full of teeth and crinkling eyes, "It is so much more; something so undeniably beautiful that sometimes I find myself breathless and drunk just by the thought of it."

Victoria blinks down at her half full champagne flute as she twirls it in between pale, slender fingers, "I see." She said quietly.

"Yeah." I find myself with nothing else to say, speechless once more when my eyes found Sherlock's once more, a glass full of amber liquid in his grasp. He blinks and then his face softens into the smallest of smiles, one that was reserved for me and only me. I felt a rush of pride and possessiveness, wondering once more what I could have done to deserve such magnificence.

Sherlock frowns and rushes to me, his large steps becoming even larger. I fought the urge to giggle, remembering the way those lovely legs ran through the streets of London, tailing after and or running from criminals. He extends one unoccupied hand to caress my cheeks and I gasped, realizing that my cheeks were wet. I blinked profusely, more tears escaping from my cobalt blue eyes, "John." He called out, urgent and fearful. His ever changing eyes darted from me to his mother, unsure of what to do. I leaned towards the hand, laughing at the silliness of this perfect, annoying man, at the rush of emotions that I feel whenever the consulting detective touches me just so, "John, are you alright?"

"To me, he is life itself." I whispered, placing my own smaller and tanner hand over his, "He is my person."

*whispers* I'm cheesy.

Oh! and this story isn't Beta'd so all mistakes are mine, do share if you find some though and I'll try to fix it C:

Thank you for reading! xx