The phone sat across from them. Just sitting there. Mocking them. The newlyweds tried to get as much space between each over as possible. Sherlock was sitting in his thinking position, his eyebrows occasionally knitting together as the web in his mind sewed the pieces of his memories together. It amazed John that Sherlock was even attempting to think clearly. He could feel the effects of his own hangover were already kicking in. The phone suddenly ringing into life startled both of them. Sherlock didn't seem to be in any condition to reach over and get it but the piercing chimes were starting to sound more like a gunshot to John. He reached forward and snatched it off the pavement.

"Hello?" He rasped into the receiver.

"Dr Watson. Where is Sherlock? Where are you?" It was Lestrade.

"Well… it's hard to explain. We are in a bit of a situation"

"I got your message last night. Where is Anderson?"

"Anderson?" The mention of his name made Sherlock grumble something quite horrible under his breath. "We lost track of him. Look. We are at Buckingham palace and we need some help"

"Let me guess, you are handcuffed to the gates?" John felt a blush burn on his cheeks, did all of London know about this?

"How did you…"

"I got a very interesting photo sent to me at around 3 in the morning last night"

"Oh god…" John grumbled.

"Oh yes. I think you two have a lot of explaining to do" John let out a long groan.

"Listen Lestrade. Sherlock isn't doing too well right now, we need a car and a set of keys to get these bloody cuffs off"

"On it. We will send someone over to pick you up" The line went dead. John glanced over at Sherlock.

We messed up big time. John scrolled down the screen and found the message button. John didn't have to read the content of the many texts sent out to know that he and his flatmate were officially screwed. Lucky for them Sherlock didn't have many people willing to share contacts with him.

Something around his finger caught the light, gleaming gold in the early morning sun. John dropped the phone and held out his hand. It was the completely wrong moment, time and place but he found himself laughing.

"What is so funny?" Sherlock grumbled, looking up from glaring at the pavement. John smiled weakly and held out his hand, exposing the smooth gold ring.

"Even when we were completely waisted, you still managed to find rings for our ceremony. You can be truly amazing sometimes" He chuckled lightly. Sherlock held out his own hand, a matching halo around his ring finger.

"But they do have the words 'I 3 LONDON' printed on the back" John watched as Sherlock began to slowly slide chunks of appetizers from last night out of his curls. Married. I'm married to Sherlock Holmes. He thought about it but just couldn't believe it.

"You don't think what happened last night actually…"

"Yes. Yes I do" Sherlock said plainly. "We have photographic evidence," he nodded towards the little black phone of scandal "right there"

"So that means you and I…."

"Yes. We kissed"

"I was going to say 'are married'"

"Oh..." Sherlock suddenly found something amazing to stare at on his shoe "Me too" A loud screeching of tires cut through the awkward silence like a hot knife through butter. John looked up in hope that it was Lestrade coming to save them like a knight in shining armour. No such luck. A sleek black limo pulled up a stone's throw away. The passenger door clicked open.

Mycroft strolled over, his head tilted back confidently and his hand tucked neatly into his pocket. His walking cane's taps hummed along with his footsteps, swinging back and forth cheerfully. Mr Holmes was having a jolly old time.

"Well if it isn't my big brother" Sherlock grumbled. He shifted to sit up straight and put on the best pokerface he could manage. Mycroft came to stop, standing cockily over Sherlock.

"That's right. I got a text from Lestrade that someone needed saving"

"I don't need your help. I am perfectly comfortable here. It is good to get outdoors once in a while" Sherlock leaned back against the bars stubbornly.

"Actually your help would be pretty good right about now" John added in but right now he felt somewhat non-existent.

"Come on Sherlock, save yourself the embarrassment and admit that you need my help" Mycroft drawled, he was practically glowing with joy. Sherlock looked up at Mycroft. From the look in his eyes, John could tell that Sherlock wasn't going to budge. "Alrighty then" Mycroft shifted into a squat before them, holding out his own phone.

"Message sent from Sherlock Holmes at 12:30 am- CROFTY, u no how I always say dat u r fat? Well, u aint fat. U just flufffffy 3" As Mycroft read out the humiliating text in a painfully slow pace, Sherlock kept to his guns and his expression didn't waver.

"If you are trying to make me feel self-conscious than your efforts will be futile" Sherlock spat. Mycroft accepted Sherlock's challenge.

"Really? Cos' I have a great one for you" He switched over to voice mail. "I got this one at 3 in the morning" He pressed the listen button.

"Crofty! Crofty… you, yoouuuuu thought that I would be virgin for evers, didn't you crofy" It was definitely Sherlock's voice, slipping and sliding in a ghastly slur. "But yah know what the problem was? I didn't have someone! And yah know what? NOW I DO! SO SUCK IT!" There was on odd crackling noise and a muffled shout. The words 'talk to him' could be heard and little sound of protest but the receiver then picked up another voice.

"Hello Holmes? I just have one thing to say" It was John this time. "Your brother. YOUR BROTHER has the cutest cheek bones"

"Oh god, turn that off" The hung-over and now humiliated John plead.

"I mean they are so high! SO VERY HIGH!" The drunk John continued into the phone.

"Stop poking me in the face" Sherlock's voice could be heard in the background.

"….so very high!" John sang in a high pitched voice before the line cut off. Sherlock shrugged.

"Is that it then? You might want to head off before you get a sunburn Mycroft"

"Oh no, I saved the best for last" Mycroft turned the screen back to face himself, his fingers flying through the buttons.

"Sherlock" John hissed. "Stop being so childish and do what he says" Sherlock ignored him.

"Are you sure you don't want to take your husband's advice?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock glared at his brother.

"How do you know about that?" John asked, having a feeling that Sherlock already knew the answer. Mycroft showed them a picture.

It started at his cheeks and then flushed out over his ears, that warm burning sensation that John knew was a blush. The photo was a little blurry but the flash of the camera shed a bright light on the scene. John had a startled look on his face in the frame, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Sherlock had his hand held firmly on the small doctors shoulder and had pulled him in. Sherlock had his lips planted sloppily under John's jaw, the side of his tong just visible on John's flesh. The photo was an obviously taken by Sherlock, the length of his arm visible in the corner. And just to top the cake, the message bellow it read 'Selfies wit mah wife Jawn, lol text it :D'. Mycroft grinned.

"Are you ready to go now Sherlock?" He asked.

Sherlock looked up at his older brother. His expression did not waver. The area around them went still as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak.

"I…" Sherlock's eyes bulged and his back arched. Mycroft pulled himself back but it was too late. Sherlock coughed and spluttered as the contents of his stomach was heaved up on his brother's shoes. John recoiled as the alcohol and god knows what splashed onto the ground around them, forming a rancid smell in the air.

"I think he is ready now" John muttered.