A/N:
It's not what you think... But thanks for reading anyway!
"This is it," Mycroft said cheerfully to Sherlock, as he straightened his brother's jacket.
Sherlock nodded his head, his hands lightly shaking as he prepared himself for the big moment. All those days of planning, and spending cash and waiting, it was all finally paying off.
Sherlock cleared his throat nervously as his brother prepared himself to open the door.
Mycroft leaned over to Sherlock and pecked him on the cheek, which was not only embarrassing, but really out of character. At least there were no eyes on them to witness that small display of affection as they stood outside the large doors.
"You'll be fine," Mycroft said, throwing open the door and entering with Sherlock on his arm.
"I know," Sherlock muttered back to him.
Everyone attending the wedding was standing up and looking in their direction, each a warm smile on their face.
Sherlock's eyes paid no attention to any of them; his eyes were focused to the man standing down the aisle in front of him, who had a nervous, but happy expression on his face. His hands were tapping anxiously at his side as he watched his future husband making his way towards him.
After a few more moments, Sherlock was standing across from John, and the Minister had started his speech.
Sherlock could hardly focus. His heart fluttered nervously for more than just one reason. One of course being that he was about to commit to a lifetime together with this man who stood before him, but because he had a secret. A secret that would ruin Sherlock and John's future relationship forever.
And that secret was sitting in the front row at his wedding with a black veil covering her sharp features.
Her brown hair was tied up, and she wore a long dark dress. She was calm. Surprising calm for a woman watching a wedding between an ordinary, scruffy looking man and the intellectual she had been seeing for months on end.
"Sherlock. Are you listening?" John muttered to Sherlock who stood before him, lost in thought for more than a few minutes.
"Er herm... Do you, Sherlock Holmes take this man, John Watson to be your husband through life and through death?"
"I, um, I do." Sherlock said, trying to sound firm, but really just came off as unsure.
John could tell Sherlock was distracted.
Oh god. Of all times, now he has to go off and get all sidetracked on something.
"And do you, John Watson, take this man, Sherlock Holmes, to be your husband through life and through death?"
Sherlock Holmes… to be his husband.
"I do."
"Then let it be agreed that these two be brought together this day, and forever more. Anyone with objections speak now, or forever hold your peace."
The room was quiet, though John was breathing so heavily he was sure that the entire room would be able to hear.
"You may now confirm your love with a holy kiss."
John slowly leaned forwards. Sherlock looked as though he had forgotten what to do, he obviously had something else on his mind.
John closed the distance between them with a light, fast kiss on the lips.
Sherlock blinked and looked back at John, finally coming back to reality.
And reality was probably the last place anyone would want to be, as a woman in black stood abruptly from her seat.
"I object," She said, pulling back her black veil.
"Irene?" John said, confused, as the room seemed to gasp as one; more for the fact she had objected, not really for the fact that she had 'come back from the dead,' since no one there really knew who she was.
The room was silent once again.
Sherlock couldn't move, couldn't think. He never thought this would have happened, he never even thought that Irene would show up; never mind basically ruining the wedding.
The minister was staring awkwardly at Irene; obviously in all his years of being a Minister, he had never actually been in the situation where someone has objected.
"You do?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth from John, Sherlock and the woman with the black veil. "And under what circumstances?"
"Because me and Sherlock are in love," She answered, a wicked red smile spreading across her pale features.
John was now as quiet and still as Sherlock.
"Well, um, then I suppose…" The minister was looking anxiously about the room, trying to come up with something to say, anything.
"Too bad, Miss Adler," a voice said.
Mycroft stepped in front of the Minister and shot a cold glance at Irene, who's smile lost some of its strength.
"What are you doing?" John muttered fiercely to Sherlock's older brother. He was afraid one of his nightmares was about to come true.
"Too bad. We all get our hearts broken sometimes. And-"
Don't say it, oh please god don't let him say it, John thought, his hands clenched tightly in fists.
"And don't you think its breaking my heart to see that the man who told me he loved me, is marrying my good for nothing brother?"
Sherlock's eyes widened, and his head snapped over in John's direction. Mycroft and John? He thought, possibly out loud. He couldn't tell. He also couldn't tell if his brother was serious and this was sabotage, or if it was all a big joke.
But Mycroft rarely joked.
Emotions changed in a blink of an eye: shock, disbelief, anger, hurt, passion, and more anger.
He really had no right to be as angry as he was, since he had been seeing Irene at the same time John and him were together, and John was probably just as hurt as he was.
John bit his lip in frustration. He couldn't think. His mind was blank.
Both men just stared at each other in worlds of hurt and anger.
There was a blunt jabbing feeling in Sherlock's left side.
He stared at John, tears stinging his eyes.
Another jab.
Another.
"Sherlock," John whispered, as Sherlock fell unconscious to the ground.
"Sherlock," he whispered again, followed by another jabbing feeling.
Sherlock's eyes blinked open, as John elbowed him in the side.
The jabbing motion…
"Sherlock. Jesus, I can't believe you actually fell asleep," John whispered, a bit agitated.
Sherlock's head snapped up and he looked around.
He was in a wedding chapel… but he wasn't the one getting married. John was sitting to his left. There was a man and a woman standing at the front, saying their vows.
"A dream…" he muttered. "That's why it ended so…"
"What?" John whispered, looking confused. "Did you say something?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"There's only about 10 minutes left, can you just stay awake for that much longer?" John asked. "You did agree to come to Stamford's wedding, after all."
Sherlock nodded, hardly paying attention to what John was saying to him. This dream… had felt so real. But there were, of course its flaws. Major flaws.
Mycroft was too brotherly, and of course John would not have fallen in love with him; John has too strong a distaste for Mycroft.
Irene wouldn't have been there, no matter how close her and Sherlock were. She was too smart.
And then of course, there was the most obvious.
Sherlock would never, never, get married in a church.