After the Wedding -or- A Dog Means 'I Love You'

By Astrild Niflheim

Rating: K

Summary: John was supposed to get married. Johnlock oneshot.

They were back at Baker Street, sitting at the mostly cleared off kitchen table, tuxedo jackets thrown over the backs of their chairs. John wasn't looking at Sherlock. He had his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, just trying to breathe. Sherlock also wasn't looking at John. He had his head turned, looking out the window where the sky had blackened to night. Seeing as it was that morning they had put on their tuxes, Sherlock straightening John's collar because the other man's hands had been shaking too much to do it, it had been a very long day. And it had gone nothing like John had thought it would.

At that moment, at three in the morning, John had expected to be in an expensive hotel in downtown London, either sleeping after having just made love to his new wife, or still making love to his new wife. Or making love again. Whatever. The reality was very different, and he had to ask, no, he had to demand that Sherlock explain why. He finally looked up, locking his eyes on the dark haired man's profile.

"Why, Sherlock? Why did you have your phone on during the ceremony? Why did you check that damned text while standing up with me? Why did you start jumping around in that mad way that you do and announce, in the middle of the *church*, that there had been a murder? Why did you grab my arm and leave?"

Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together, then relaxed. When he turned to face John his expression was neutral.

"Why did come with me?"

"Yeah, well, that's why I'm not screaming at you. Hell, I'm not even mad at you. It is my fault. I just thought you might be able to tell me why you did what you did? I have to figure out why I did what I did on my own, I suppose."

"You told her what to expect."

"Yes, I did, and she agreed that she wasn't going to change me running around solving crimes with you, that she wasn't going to interfere in our friendship. But I think it was perfectly reasonable for her to expect not to have her wedding ruined."

"Is the wedding going to be rescheduled?"

"No. We had a long talk on the mobile while you were interviewing the suspect. I'm to pick my things up from her place tomorrow, I'm to apologize to her parents at that point, and I'm being stuck with half the bill. Seeing as I left her at the altar, I'm lucky they're not threatening to sue me for the entire thing. Thank god she wanted a small affair."

"I'm sorry, John."

"That's just it, Sherlock, I don't think you are," John's voice became beseeching and he held his hands palm up, trying to understand. "You have managed to ruin, with my help I'm willing to admit, every relationship I've been in since I met you. I know you know how *not* to do it, because each time you've gotten better at doing it. It's like it's a skill you've been mastering. I'm tired. And I've come to the conclusion I can have this wonderfully exciting life I lead with you or I can find someone to settle down with, but not both. Please, I don't have your skills. Tell me what's going on in your head."

Sherlock turned his entire body to face John across the table. He crossed his arms and leaned on them, his eyes intense as he faced his friend.

"You're right, of course, it's time, well past time, that this game ends. When are you going to stop this ridiculous denial, John? I don't want you to leave. And you clearly don't want to leave. You can't possibly not understand how you feel at this point."

"And how do I feel, Sherlock?" John hissed. He was finally pissed. "You know what I want. I want a wife, a house with a yard, *children.* You can't give me any of that!"

"We can get a dog."

John stopped. He sat up and just stared at Sherlock, wide eyed. For a moment, he didn't even breathe.

"A dog?"

"Yes, John, one with ears, a wet nose and bad breath. You can even pick it out."

"You think a dog is going to solve all of our problems?"

"According to psychologists, a baby sure as hell won't, so yes, let's stick with the dog."

"What would Mrs Hudson say?"

"Probably, 'I'll take him for his walkies this once, but I'm not your housekeeper.'"

John started laughing. It was hysterical, and tears started streaming down his face. He was laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach and he nearly collapsed out of his chair. Sherlock jumped up and rounded the table to kneel next to him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him out of his chair onto the floor with him, tucking John's head into his neck.

"I am aware that this really doesn't solve anything, but what else are we going to do? We've never said it, we've never gone near it, really, but everyone else already knows. We are partners, John. I may not be able to give you those things a woman can, but what about everything else I give you? The things that no one else can?"

John had calmed down and he pulled back slightly, looking up at Sherlock.

"Ok. Fine. Let's get a dog."

Sherlock smiled, wide and brilliant, and kissed the man he was still holding close to his chest. Taken by surprise - but only a little surprised, really - it took John a moment to respond, but he did respond instead of pulling away. Sherlock knew that was progress, far more progress than they had made in years, and he drew the kiss out, sucking on John's bottom lip and caressing his back. When they finally broke apart, John looked dazed.

"Um. Right. So, we go tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. Now, come on, let's go to bed."

Sherlock helped John to his feet and led him out of the kitchen. When John turned to go up to his room, Sherlock kept his hand firm on the small of his back, steering him into his own room.

"Sherlock? Not sure I'm ready for this step."

"Don't be ridiculous, John. What would the dog think if his parents slept in separate rooms? We could give him a complex."

"Oh, god."

The End

A/N: The other one I'm working on? Giving me a bit of trouble and it's too serious for my brain right now, plus I'm working on a novel of my own. I needed a bit of nonsense for distraction. Hope it was liked! ::kisses:: - Astrild