John Watson always experienced a pang of nostalgia when he entered 221B Baker Street. His time there with Sherlock Holmes counted amongst the best parts of his life. He and his wife Mary shared a suitable home, and she had been a valued assistant at his medical practice, but nothing quite replaced the feeling of being at back at Baker Street, a feeling of belonging that was difficult for a naturally reserved man like John to articulate.

Of course, after today, he did not belong there any more. Because today was the day Sherlock Holmes married Molly Hooper.

John watched the small gathering in the cozy sitting room. Mrs. Hudson bustled around in a flurry of lace and crinolines, ensuring plenty of tea and biscuits were available because Sherlock and Molly had eschewed the typical wedding traditions. No morning ceremony. No breakfast. Just a late afternoon wedding and tea in the small rooms of Baker Street, where the clattering of hooves could be heard on the cobbled street outside. Gregory Lestrade engaged in deep quiet conversation with Mycroft Holmes, both men standing close before the fire. Mary rested on the settee next to Helen Stamford, whose husband Michael approached John with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"How are you doing?"

John took a deep breath and attempted to relax his shoulders. "Fine, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Surprised, I guess." Mike shook his head, piquing John's curiosity

"By what?"

"I never thought Holmes to be a marrying man."

Although John felt the same way, he asked, "And why wouldn't he be?"

Mike merely responded with a knowing smile, and John bristled. Sherlock did not have such proclivities. In fact, until the abrupt engagement announcement just a few short weeks ago, John would have sworn Sherlock had no proclivities at all.

But then again, until the engagement announcement, John would also have sworn Molly had eyes only for Greg, who had appeared to return her regard. Molly Hooper, a member of the laundry staff at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, was sweet enough, John supposed. She had started her relationship with Sherlock by willingly venturing into the morgue to bring clean rags. She had expressed an interest in an autopsy John was performing, and her natural talents towards medical forensics had endeared her to John and Sherlock both. She would not normally be permitted into the morgue and laboratories because of her gender, but they would send for her to bring clean towels, and Mike chose to ignore the obvious subterfuge for Molly's sake. Everybody liked Molly Hooper, but John was still baffled that Sherlock would love her.

Talk of the Devil and he doth appear.

As Sherlock and Molly entered the room, John noted Sherlock appeared satisfied. He did not even seem to mind that Mrs. Hudson flung her arms around him as Lestrade rushed over to help Molly with her coat. Her wedding dress was pale blue and simple in design, eschewing the recent fashion of white gowns with lace and narrow waists. An unconventional choice for an unconventional woman, John thought.

Mary and Helen rose from the sofa, and everyone gathered around the newly married couple to give their congratulations.

Mary caught Molly in a brief embrace. "Congratulations, Mrs. Holmes."

Molly glanced at Sherlock. "First time anyone has called me that. It'll take some getting used to."

"Quite." Sherlock agreed.

With his felicitations stuck in his throat, John moved out of the way to allow the Stamfords approach the newlyweds.

Helen kissed Molly's cheek. "Now we can give up pretending you're going upstairs just to bring fresh linens. Nobody would dare tell Sherlock Holmes' wife to stay out of the lab."

"Yes, quite the farce we're all acting in." Mike reached out to shake Sherlock's hand. "I never thought I'd see this day."

John caught a glimmer of something in Sherlock's expression he could not identify. Sherlock clasped Mike's offered hand and sighed dramatically. "What a man will do for love."

Mike nodded, and the crowd laughed. Then they broke up into different groups as the reception continued. Mrs. Hudson pressed a plate of biscuits into Sherlock's hands, a gesture so familiar that John felt his eyes begin to water. He covered by coughing, and Mary rushed over with a fresh cup of tea. "A little choked up, my dear?"

Of course, Mary would antagonize John today, but he did not feel inclined to indulge her. "Thank you for the tea."

"Anything for my husband."

John stepped back and averted his face to avoid Mary's icy smile. He sipped his tea until he heard the swishing of Mary's skirts against the rug signaling she had gone to talk to someone else. John looked over to where Sherlock was standing next to the fireplace. He watched as Sherlock put down his plate in order to adjust the position of the skull on the mantel, then he prodded at some of the dying coals in the fire. The set of his shoulders betrayed a tension only John would notice. Then, as he fidgeted with his waistcoat, Sherlock's gaze met John's in the mirror above the mantel and caught. John was working up the courage to walk over and congratulate his best friend on his marriage when Mycroft interrupted by saying to the gathering, "Please allow me to say some words to mark this miraculous event."

Facing the sitting room again, Sherlock rolled his eyes. John could not help but grin at the familiar brotherly reaction.

"I cannot believe I have witnessed Sherlock Holmes' wedding today. Truly, the thought of him spending his life with a woman at his side just never crossed my mind."

Sherlock stiffened at Mycroft's mocking tone, and John saw Mike lean closer to give Sherlock's elbow a gentle squeeze. John suddenly remembered Mike had known Sherlock longer than he had and wondered if there had been some truth to his earlier words left unspoken. No, certainly not. John was appalled at letting himself to think such a thing.

"To Mrs. Molly Holmes, we welcome you into our family." Mycroft performed a gallant bow over Molly's hand. "You are a brave woman to enter into this contract with my brother. I hope the outcome is most agreeable to you and those closest to you."

Molly nodded seriously, and Mycroft gifted her with a rare sincere smile. "Finally, let me say how glad our mother and father are to know their youngest son has settled down at last."

Amidst laughter, Greg said, "A miracle indeed."

Mycroft laid a hand on Greg's shoulder and directed his response to the newlyweds. "To a most fruitful union."

Sherlock startled, and Molly blushed.

Mycroft walked over to the coat rack and retrieved his overcoat and umbrella. He tilted his head to the others in the room. "And now we should be going. Let the happy couple enjoy their wedding night."

Greg chuckled, and Molly blushed even more. Sherlock said, "Yes, everybody out."

Even John joined in the general amusement at the terseness of Sherlock's words, while everyone started to gather their belongings.

The Stamfords took their leave first, handshakes and kisses exchanged. Mrs. Hudson hesitated in the doorway. "Are you sure I can't bring up a hot supper? I prepared a nice roast just in case."

Molly said, "Thank you, but we'll manage."

Sherlock voiced his agreement. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, we'll be just fine without you fluttering around the flat this evening."

"Oh, my dear boy, just tell me what I can do to help. I know this is not easy…"

Mycroft cut in. "Congratulations once again on your marriage, little brother. Mummy is thrilled." He nodded at Molly, and then Mycroft took Mrs. Hudson's arm and gently led her downstairs.

Mary finally approached the newlyweds. "Congratulations, my sweet." She and Molly exchanged kisses on the cheek. Mary turned to Sherlock and asked, "So, you finally found someone who wanted you, too?"

John did not like the smirk on her face, especially directed towards Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugged, apparently unaffected. "It is good to love openly and honestly, don't you agree?"

"Of course." Mary reached up to give Sherlock a hug and kiss on the cheek. "I'll keep him in trouble."

Sherlock stared directly in her eyes. "You keep him safe."

Mary responded with a quizzical look at Sherlock and then tugged on John's hand. "Come along, husband. Let's grant our friends some privacy."

John did not want to leave, not just yet. "Give us a moment?"

"A moment. It's time to go home."

But I am home. John watched as Mary shrugged into her red frock coat. He ventured a smile towards Molly. "Congratulations to you both."

Molly's face was full of an unexpected sadness as she said, "Thank you for being here today, Doctor Watson. I don't know what Sherlock would have done without you."

The sound of Mary's footsteps faded as she walked down the stairs. John knew he should follow soon. He looked at Sherlock and foundered for something to say. As John hesitated, Greg collapsed on the sofa, prompting John to ask, "Aren't you coming with us, Lestrade?"

"No, I live here, remember?"

Indeed, Greg had been sharing the flat with Sherlock for some months now, having moved into John's old room after separating from his wife. The Lestrades could not divorce. He had related the reasons to John during a long pub session one night while Sherlock was away: young impetuous marriage, disapproving parents, and a society not structured to allow a divorced woman to earn meaningful wages. The atmosphere in the house had grown too tense for Greg, and Sherlock had offered him a place when Greg's mood had started interfering with his attitude on cases. For God's sake, Lestrade, if it's that bad, live upstairs at Baker Street. Get your head back in the game. Lestrade had been surprised, but John knew Sherlock was fond of Greg in his own way. However, John had thought Molly would not want the arrangement to continue after the wedding.

"You're still using the room upstairs, now Holmes is married?"

Greg hesitated, and Sherlock chimed in. "Somebody has to pay the rent around here, and Lestrade has a steady income, not that I know why the Yard would ever pay him."

Greg teased, "Did you just admit you need me?"

John was surprised at the earnestness with which Sherlock replied. "Yes, right now I do."

Greg rose from the sofa and clapped Sherlock on the shoulder. He walked over to the fireplace to speak with Molly.

John finally felt the privacy he needed to speak with Sherlock. "Congratulations. I hope you'll be very happy."

John held out his hand, and Sherlock clasped it. "Thank you, Watson. I hope you are not insulted by the fact I asked Lestrade to stand with me today." Sherlock squeezed John's hand before releasing it. His indecipherable eyes focused everywhere but on John. "He felt… I felt it was important he stand before the officiant. You know, with the situation how it is."

John was touched by Sherlock's unusual nervousness. "It's all fine, Holmes. He's your colleague and flatmate. It makes sense he would be your best man." The hurt John had felt at being passed over to stand with Sherlock fell away at the sight of his friend's relief.

"I remember the honor of being your best man. You are the one I would have preferred to have at my side. You… you are my best friend."

"And please know you will always be mine."

Sherlock smiled his most honest smile, the one John swore was just for him. "To hear you say that is the best wedding gift you could have given me."

John smiled in return and took a step back towards the stairway. "Well, I suppose I should finally leave you to your wedding night." And leave before I embarrass myself by giving in to the urge to hug you.

"My best to you and Mrs. Watson." Sherlock's smile changed from open and affectionate to polite and deliberate as he reached the doorknob, and John hated to have been the cause. John turned as a whispered "Good-bye, John" reached his ears.

Against the pending chill of the evening, the warmth of Sherlock's voice held John in place. But both men had wives waiting for them now, so John forced himself into motion. As he shuffled down the stairs, John heard the door to 221B click shut behind him, the sound of incontestable closure to his life on Baker Street.