Between friends
When they marry, it's for a case. Of course it is. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and Mycroft are the only crowd they've been able to gather on such short notice to stand by as their witnesses as they sign the papers, and when the obligatory proclamation comes that "you may kiss the groom", John decides to grasp the nettle before things can get any more awkward.
He stretches up hastily and pecks Sherlock chastely on the cheek, congratulating himself on doing both of them rather a favour in getting this over with quickly and with the least possible embarrassment.
But Sherlock surprises them all when, after John has drawn back, he reaches out with both hands to gently cradle John's face and, under the astonished eyes of their witnesses, dips his head to kiss John tenderly on the mouth. Their audience does not exactly gasp but there is a collective inhale, quite audible in the silence. John's hands twitch once where they hang loosely at his sides before relaxing.
When their eyes blink open again only an instant later, Sherlock holds Johns incredulous gaze for a moment in silent communication. His fingers slip slowly from John's cheeks as he withdraws, thumbs caressing his jaw for a moment before he straightens up, nodding at John with determination, his eyes intense.
John is perfectly aware that the show is mostly for the benefit of the notary, but nonetheless it ignites a glow-y kind of warmth in his chest because the affection in Sherlock's touch does not feel entirely faked. And even though he knows it's all a scam, all an act, he can't help the smile splitting his face. Growing reckless, he grasps Sherlock's hand and they turn as one to face their guests.
The faces watching them show varying degrees of shock. Mrs. Hudson has tears in her eyes. Lestrade is obviously trying not to gape openly and Mycroft definitely does not goggle – that would be beneath him – but his eyes are a fraction wider than would be warranted in his bored expression.
John can feel himself blush at their looks and fights the urge to duck his head, instead squaring his shoulders with military resolution. He feels like they might be going a little over the top right now, judging by the reactions their performance is receiving. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all.
Sherlock, of course, is shedding the mood of a few seconds ago like an unwanted cloak. He gives a tiny smirk. "Now that this tedious business is settled, let us get to work," he announces, abruptly drops John's hand and strides briskly from the room.
It's the notary's turn to gape when his new husband leaves John standing alone at the desk, feeling slightly dazed. Mycroft turns on his heel and follows his brother. Lestrade visibly shakes himself and does so as well.
Mrs. Hudson steps up to John. "Come along, dear. You wouldn't want to keep him waiting now would you." She links their arms together, patting the back of his hand, and leads him from the notary's chamber where he has just been married to Sherlock Holmes…
xoxoxoxoxo
"What is the matter, John? You are awfully quiet tonight," Sherlock says much later, after the case is solved and they are finally alone in their flat, stripped of their days' disguising clothes and each once more in his favourite pastime attire.
John looks at his flatmate. No, partner. No. Friend. No… oh, sod it! "Nothing," he lies. But there is something nagging him in the back of his mind. If only he could put a finger on it. It feels like he has forgotten some important point, like he has made a grave oversight somewhere in regards to their current situation. "I just –"
"Come on, John. Don't play me for a fool. Something is disturbing you greatly." Sherlock cuts him off, leaning slightly forward and squinting at him, the wheels visibly turning in his head. "Are you afraid I might try to push you into 'consummating our marriage' as they say? – Just to be thorough, of course," he adds the last bit with a teasing undertone. The corner of his mouth twitches but John doesn't notice. The former soldier blanches, then blushes like a traffic light going from green to red. The thought honestly hadn't even occurred to him but now that Sherlock has put it in his head, the idea makes him feel slightly queasy and at the same time uncomfortably warm under the collar. At least he can answer this question honestly. "No," he says firmly and maybe a little too quickly. Though, in his head, he adds '… but after today I know you'd be exceedingly gentle if we were somehow required to.'
Because that is what has really rattled him so much about today, he discovers: Sherlock's gentleness in the unexpected mock-kiss of a few hours ago. Even though it had been an act, there had been true affection in it. And technically, he realizes, he has just signed up to spend the rest of his life with the man sitting across from him. Or rather: this extraordinary man, his best friend, signed up to spend eternity with him. That is all strictly theoretical, of course, but the thought is a bit overwhelming. This wasn't supposed to happen!
And there is something else here, something a lot more solid and urgent than emotions, but it keeps steadfastly evading his mental grasp.
Sherlock watches him through narrowed eyes. "What is it, then? What makes you so uneasy?" John shrugs, laughing uncomfortably "I'm sure you're going to tell me in a minute." He's still not quite certain what it is that has him so on edge, now that everything is over, but he knows Sherlock is always twenty steps ahead of everybody else. Let him figure it out for him, then.
Sherlock looks pensive and a little frustrated in the face of the unexpected puzzle presenting itself to him. He sits forward, intrigued now, studying John. "Do you fear I might accost you in some other fashion?" he asks eventually, "because, even though it goes without saying, I can assure you I will not."
The question is careful, clearly a stab in the dark, but John starts all the same. "What? No. No, I don't. That's complete nonsense. What makes you say that? –" He draws a breath, deflating. Gathering his thoughts, he tries again. "Look, Sherlock. I'm not suddenly uncomfortable with your or anything. What happened today – the kissing, I mean – I'm alright with that. I really am. I understand why it had to be done. But don't you think we overdid it there a bit? I mean -"
"Oh, come on, John! We had to be at least a little bit convincing for the notary. Any idiot could have seen that you didn't even mean that peck on the cheek."
John inclines his head. "Alright," he concedes grudgingly. Sherlock has always been the better actor out of the both of them - a fabulous actor, in fact, willing to go to great lengths to fool his audience. John doesn't know why he was so surprised, now that he thinks about it. "But…" He searches for words, trying to rally his thoughts, while Sherlock watches him carefully, staying silent and waiting for him to speak.
Eventually John offers: "You are my friend… What are people going to think? This will get out to the press." The argument is feeble at best and John knows it but he has to say something in explanation of his mood.
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Since when does it matter what people think? Anyway, they will assume what they are always assuming: That we share a bed. It will not be any more true now than it ever was. Nothing will actually change from our point of view. We will continue just as we were, I assure you. So I do not see the problem."
"I know that, Sherlock! That's not what I meant! I wasn't implying anything about…" John falters as he goes over what he just heard…
The revelation, when it hits, comes out of the blue. It's so obvious and he feels stupid for not discussing it with Sherlock before they entered into this crazy venture. He sits up straighter, tensing.
Sherlock's eyebrows draw together into a calculating frown, processing evidence. When he speaks, there is amusement in his deep voice: "Don't you think it's a little late now for 'cold feet', John?"
Once again, John is taken aback by the conclusion Sherlock has arrived at. "I'm not -" He bites his lip, his eyes drawn to the ring on his finger and then the pieces click for Sherlock, too. "You are afraid I am going to prevent us from getting an annulment," he observes dryly.
John swallows, his throat suddenly tight. They have finally hit upon the heart of the matter. "We are going to get this annulled, aren't we?" he says with a lot more conviction than he feels.
Sherlock just looks at him impassively, contemplating him over steepled fingers, waiting in meaningful silence. John's eyes widen. "God, Sherlock, don't tell me you want us to stay married!" The detective shrugs. "It could be helpful for other cases, too. Why bother going through the trouble again?"
"No." John shakes his head in resolute denial. "Nonono. Absolutely not. I will not have it, Sherlock. There are certain limits... We are not… That's not -" His voice breaks off. Groaning, John drops his head into his hands. "Oh god." Suddenly he can't breath. "I'm married to Sherlock Holmes. How did this happen?"
"I just want to remind you that you agreed to this," Sherlock supplies helpfully, "and it's not that different from being un-married to me, except for the tax benefits. And just so you know: I already rented out your room since we'll only be needing one now."
John's head snaps up, gaping at Sherlock, at a loss for words, but this time he notices the smile tucking at Sherlock's lips as the detective is trying hard to hide his amusements about John's flabbergasted expression and general mortification about their whole situation. "Oh, do calm down, John. I am merely pulling your leg. Of course we're getting an annulment. We can do it right now if you like. I have the papers right here." He taps a manila envelop that has been inconspicuously resting on the coffee table between them.
John eyes Sherlock suspiciously but the tension gradually slips from him with a sigh, shoulders slumping forward when Sherlock adds nothing else. "Jesus! Don't ever do that again, Sherlock."
"What, marry you? I am told that is supposed to be a one-time thing. But if you want to give it up so easily after you've only tried it for a few hours…" Sherlock raises a challenging eyebrow and reaches for the envelop but his fingertips have only just brushed it when John stands "You know perfectly well what I mean. And I guess that -" he nods at the papers on the table "- might just as well wait until tomorrow. I'm too tired to read pages upon pages of fine print now."
He stretches and yawns. "I think I've had about enough of today. I'm going to bed. Good night, Sherlock." He makes to move up the stairs before the evening can get any weirder.
Sherlock's petulant voice sounds behind him. "What? No goodnight kiss?" John stops in his tracks, his back already turned on the room. "Sherlock, don't push it." "As you wish, Mister Holmes." John whirls around at that. "You made me take your name?" he hisses. Now Sherlock chuckles outright. "No, don't worry. You're not dense enough to be fooled into signing a paper that would do that." "Wow, thanks a million," John huffs, "Your confidence in me is startling, as always. Makes me wonder why you married me in the first place! See you in the morning. And those annulment papers better be there when I come downstairs!"
xoxoxoxoxo
But of course they don't get their marriage annulled the next day. The following morning, Sherlock wakes John with a pounding on the bedroom door and a new case that needs their urgent attention. It takes them three days of solid work to solve it. Then another call from the Yard immediately pulls them into a murder investigation and so their life goes on in the same fashion it always does at 221B, just as Sherlock promised.
The manila folder is crushed under a stake of old journals about bee-keeping and evidence bags that may of may not contain human body parts - living with Sherlock, you never know for sure. Some weeks later John has forgotten it was there in the first place.
The ring on his finger won't come off even with soap but he is too busy to go to the jeweller's and have it removed and he hardly notices it any more, anyway. Sherlock, for his part, likes the little piece of extravagance on his hand. It keeps questions, as well as questionable offers, conveniently at bay. It is a useful prop. Lestrade has long since stopped shaking his head whenever he catches sight of it.
Time passes unnoticed and they are both surprised when Mrs. Hudson gives them flowers on their first anniversary but at this point John has convinced himself that the tax benefits Sherlock had used as a token argument really do help their household budget considerably.
One day, Mycroft drops by with a stern look on his face, giving his brother an earful about marriage fraud and how it's time to stop being childish and playing 'house' because the authorities, namely him, know perfectly well that it is all a scam, and that he, Mycroft, only agreed to it because it was for a case involving some buddy high up in the government.
He drones on and on about Sherlock's and John's duties as citizens and the hypocrisy is like oozing sludge spewing out of his mouth. Once the speech loses its comical value to Sherlock, however, he throws in a few choice words about how John has already done his duty to the country and about how he, Sherlock, serves society in ways immeasurable and how Mycroft is a fine one to talk about wasting tax payer's money, anyway.
And that's the end of it. Sherlock wants to count it as a win but he knows perfectly well that it was just Mycroft's last ditch effort to test John's resolve regarding his association with his little brother. He backs off a little too easily and from that day on the issue is put to rest for good.
If John is honest with himself then Sherlock – as is nearly always the case – is right: Their new marital status makes no difference at all. People have always assumed they were a couple. At least the awkward inquiries and knowing looks have tapered off now that their status is obvious with matching rings clearly visible on both of their hands. Things are almost exactly as they always were a year ago and if Sherlock sometimes gives John a smile that is a little more affectionate, even when they are out in public, or if John makes Sherlock his favourite kind of baked toast for breakfast a tad more often, - well, who is to say there is anything unusual about that? They are married, after all.
The end *hahaha*
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A/N: Thanks to Mop for the wonderful Beta! This has not been Brit-Picked so if you found any glaring mistakes, please do notify me!
Also: Please leave me a bit of feedback if you [didn't] like this! I'd love to know what you think!