Sherlock and John had been engaged for a month and the preparations for their civil marriage were going well. Mycroft had taken it upon himself to pay for everything, which Sherlock suspected was more due to their mother insisting upon it that Mycroft's practically non-existent goodwill. No expense would be spared for the happiest day of Sherlock's life, Mycroft had told him with something of a forced smile. John had chosen the venue (a large country house on the outskirts of London), and Sherlock had chosen their suits, but everything else had been left to Mycroft and his team of wedding planners. The date had been set for the 15th of June – a Saturday. The ceremony would be taking place at exactly midday, followed by the reception, which would last until approximately 5pm. At half past 6, Sherlock and John would be getting on a plane departing from Heathrow airport which would fly them to Paris, and the beginning of their honeymoon, spanning 15 days, three continents, and an inordinate amount of time in an aeroplane.
The morning of the 15th dawned bright and clear, and Sherlock and John were awoken by Mrs Hudson letting Harry into the flat. It had been agreed that John would get ready at his sisters' flat in an attempt to keep some elements of tradition in their completely non-traditional ceremony.
John reluctantly pulled on a pair of old jeans and a checked shirt while Sherlock watched him from the bed.
"Why did it have to be me who leaves the flat?" John grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his socks and shoes.
"Because if you had made me get ready at Mycroft's, I would have killed you," replied Sherlock sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
John grinned and leant over to kiss him briefly. "Bye, don't be late."
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Sherlock with a smile. "See you later."
John glanced back at his fiancé one last time before joining his sister in the living room. She'd had a haircut since the last time he'd seen her; her sandy hair was now shoulder length and slightly damp. She'd lost a bit of weight too, and looked healthier than she had in ages. John supposed she was off the drink again.
"Ready to go?" Harry asked, taking the black suit bag that Mrs Hudson handed her. John's stomach flipped at the sight of it.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
Sherlock stared at his reflection in the full length mirror and frowned. Even after three attempts, his tie was still not right. He was just readjusting it when Mycroft walked into his room without knocking.
"Not still fiddling with that tie, are you?" Mycroft was, as ever, looking impeccable in a black, three piece suit. He walked towards Sherlock and fixed his tie for him. "There you go." He stepped back to admire his younger brother. "You look good."
Sherlock inclined his head briefly. "Thank you." His suit and tie were a sleek, dark blue and brought out the colour of his eyes. His shirt was white – because John liked him in white shirts – and his shoes were black.
Mycroft glanced at his watch. "We should get going."
Sherlock nodded his agreement, attempted (and failed) to flatten his unruly curls, then followed Mycroft to the car parked outside 221B where their mother was waiting for them.
The country house was large and white, with a long gravel driveway leading up to the polished oak doors. The sun shone brightly in the almost clear blue sky, and the gardens surrounding the house were lush and in full bloom.
The car pulled up by the doors to the house and Sherlock stepped out. He was immediately assaulted by the smell of roses, peonies and gardenia. Resisting the urge to readjust his tie again, Sherlock followed his mother and Mycroft into the house and the main room. The decorations were simple and refined, nothing too fancy because neither Sherlock nor John would have appreciated it. The sunlight streamed in through the large open windows, causing rainbows of colour to dance on the walls, and the expensive chandeliers to glimmer and glisten above their heads.
The seats slowly filled as friends and relatives took their places; Mycroft and their mother sat down in the front row while Sherlock went over to talk to the registrar in an attempt to calm his nerves. He was vaguely aware of Lestrade entering the room, shortly followed by Molly in a deep red dress. Twenty minutes later and Harry's appearance announced John's arrival. Harry joined Sherlock, Lestrade and Mycroft in front of the registrar, dressed in a simple green dress. It had been agreed that Mycroft and Harry would be the witnesses and that Lestrade would have the honour of being the ring bearer.
"Here comes the bride," Lestrade muttered from Sherlock's left hand side, and suddenly all eyes were on John who was walking towards them. Sherlock was vaguely aware of music playing in the background, but all he could focus on was John in his dark grey suit and tie, and his blue shirt, which was the exact same shade as Sherlock's suit. John's brown eyes sparkled as he looked Sherlock over.
"Good choice with the suits," he murmured as everyone else took their seats.
"Yes, I thought so too."
The registrar cleared his throat and the ceremony began.
Hands clasped tightly, eyes fixed on each other, silence from the guests. John spoke quietly, his voice unwavering.
"I vow to always chase after you chasing criminals, to always make a cup of tea for you, unless you've broken the kettle again." A quiet chuckle from some people, a smile from Sherlock. "I vow to always pester you about eating and sleeping enough, to tolerate it when your experiments make a mess in the kitchen again."
Sherlock's turn to speak, a moment of worried anticipation from his mother.
"I vow to never make you dive into the Thames after me again, and to stop spilling corrosive acid on the kitchen table. I vow to spend any spare time curled up on the sofa with you, eating take away and watching rubbish telly."
Now the serious vows. The sentimental ones. The ones everyone were waiting for.
"I vow to love you, from now until forever, and to always be faithful to you. Whatever life may throw at us, I know that we'll be okay, because we'll face it together. I am yours." Tears glistening in pale blue eyes.
"I vow to love you until the day I die. You make me a better person, and we're stronger when we're together. Let nothing ever come between us. I am nothing without you, and I will always be yours." A sniffle from John's mum and Molly. A single tear of happiness sliding down John's cheek.
They exchanged rings with shaking hands, and the registrar pronounced them husbands. Sherlock leant forwards and claimed John's lips in a soft kiss. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and kissed him back enthusiastically to the sound of applause.
After all the official paperwork had been signed, everyone made their way outside into the sunlight so the tables could be set up for the reception. It was thankfully still a beautiful day and pleasantly warm; the sun beat down on the grounds of the house as waiters drifted through the guests, offering champagne and other beverages. Sherlock took two champagne flutes and passed one to John. They walked in quiet happiness for a few minutes, arms around each other, sipping at the champagne and enjoying the warmth of the sun.
"Congratulations brother, John," said Mycroft, appearing at their sides with their mother in tow. Mycroft shook the happy couple's hands.
"Very nice vows, dear. I must admit I was a little nervous when you said you would be writing your own, but I thought that it worked very well." Violet Holmes kissed both her son and John on the cheek.
They were spared having to reply by the arrival of John's family and Lestrade. After the obligatory 'congratulations' and greetings, conversation turned to Sherlock and John's honeymoon.
"We'll be going to Paris for four days and then flying to New York for a week for a bit of sightseeing, and then we'll be going to the Seychelles for another five days to relax again before coming back to London," John told his parents and Harry, while Sherlock spoke politely to Lestrade, Mike Stamford and Molly.
"Oh that sounds lovely. Bit expensive though, isn't it?" said Anne Watson, giving her son's hand an affectionate squeeze.
"It's taken care of, mum, don't worry. I'll take loads of pictures and then maybe Sherlock and I will come and visit, and you can have a look at them."
Sherlock and John spent another ten or so minutes talking to their guests, before a waiter announced that the food was ready, and everyone made their way back into the house. The reception passed without incident, none of the speeches were too embarrassing and the food was excellent. Soon, Sherlock and John were being bundled into one of Mycroft's cars, their suitcases already packed and in the boot. As they laughed and kissed and tangled their limbs together, the car pulled away from the country house, en route to the beginning of their honeymoon, and their life as husbands.