Sherlock couldn't predict that he'd have one more vow to give.
Note: Y'all. This is pure, unadulterated self-indulgence. And for that, I apologize. Enjoy.
Sherlock tapped his foot nervously, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He didn't get nervous often. This was a fairly unfamiliar feeling, really. In truth he hadn't felt this way since John's own wedding, but then his nervousness had been for losing his friend, his partner. Now he was gaining a partner of a different sort.
"Calm down," John whispered over Sherlock's shoulder.
"I am calm," Sherlock shot back. His voice held no tremor but his veins were thrumming with energy he was barely suppressing. His tie felt too tight, his tuxedo jacket too small. He felt heat creeping up his neck into his face the longer he waited. Everyone was staring at him. He was used to being a spectacle, used to people looking at him, but not this way. He'd thought giving his best man speech at John's wedding had been bad … this was worse.
He was very grateful that he didn't have to give another best man speech. Unfortunately, there was another speech he would have to give. His vows to his bride. He swore he would never give another vow after the one he dropped on John and Mary and unborn baby Watson. Sherlock of course could not have foreseen that he would be wrong, rare as that was. He would have been content signing a piece of paper and being done with it-he remembered planning for John's wedding and wasn't keen on going through the whole ordeal again. His bride, however, had been insistent on having a ceremony. He found with increasing bewilderment that he was unable to deny the woman anything.
The gathering was small, smaller even that John's wedding had been. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson. The bride's family, the groom's family … he had to admit, he was somewhat surprised Mycroft had shown up. His mother and father were sitting next to him. Of course his mother was teary eyed. Sherlock took a deep breath and barely managed to contain a characteristic eye roll. They were both similarly lonely people, and so did not possess an abundance of friends. Mary was the sole bridesmaid, and as his eyes skirted over the back of the chapel, he realized she was standing in the doorway giving him a surreptitious thumbs-up. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile, and music began to play from somewhere to his left. He dimly recalled from John's wedding that this seemed to mean it was show time.
In keeping with a small wedding, they decided to forego having a ring-bearer. Instead it was just Mary walking down that aisle, followed in short by Molly.
Sherlock swallowed once, throat thick with nerves. God, this was so unlike him. But as she came into view, finally, he felt his lips part, his eyebrows raise. He wasn't caught off guard often, but seeing Molly Hooper walking toward him, smiling down at the single lily in her hand, Sherlock was definitely caught off guard.
The panic started to set in by the time she was halfway down the aisle. He tried running through his scripted vow in his head, but the words weren't there. He couldn't find them tucked away in his mind palace anywhere. He could've killed John for convincing him he didn't need note cards.
He would have to wing it.
She was getting closer, almost to the pulpit, then standing right in front of him. She fidgeted with her lily and looked up at him shyly, her uneven smile in place. Sherlock's lips lifted into a smile as well as he took her hand in his.
The music faded and the pastor began to speak.