Any words that are from the show were retrieved from the show since that was quick and easy.

This entire thing was brought on by a conversation between myself and NoOrdinarySouthernGirl after she posted an image set, a link that can be found on the AO3 version of this. Also written in thanks for all the help she has been with my writing and just being there as a friend when I have needed one.

Any comments would be greatly appreciated, thank you to any one for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!

Tumblr about my stories: JaimiStoryTeller

John's POV
The day of his wedding to Mary also brought back a whole host of memories rushing to the surface as the tall form of one Major James Sholto stepped into the reception hall. It was the first time he had seen the older man in nearly five years, since the day he was shot.

"Oh, God, wow," he murmurs as he watches him glance about the room, head held high as if meeting a challenge.

Beside him his wife lays a hand on his shoulder, starting to inquire, "Is that…" but he does not give her a chance to finish.

Without stopping to comment more than, "He came," he heads directly to the older man, coming to attention and saluting him as soon as the taller blonde faces him. "Hello," he murmurs as he automatically goes to parade rest, beaming up at the taller man.

Of all the people he had invited, this was one of the most important for the simple fact of he was one of the most important relationships in his history. While he had often said he was not gay, he had never said he was not bi. People just automatically assumed that by not gay, he meant straight.

"I'm very, very glad to see you, sir." He remarks as he continues to vibrate in place, energy rushing through him. Doing a very small bow, which he hopes folks will just pass off as him leaning forward a bit, he continues, "I know you don't really do this sort of thing," he glances about the room as he finishes speaking. Memories rushing to the forefront and making him want to look anywhere but at the man in front of him.

Pale grey eyes seem to understand his nervousness as the older man responds, "Well I do for old friends Watson." Nodding once and smiling tightly, he states a single word which shares a wealth of emotion, though an outsider might not understand, "John."

In that simple word he is taken back to Afghanistan, the desert heat, the past.