"Right, invitations. What would you like?" The man behind the desk asked them, his tan hands folded on his lap. He had black hair that messy enough to give him that just-rolled-out-of-bed look. His eyes were deep green and kind, and looked genuinelly interested as he talked to Sherlock and John.
"Nothing fancy. Just something that matches our colour scheme, I guess. Blue and silver."
"Alright. Well there's some designs in that book there if you'd like to look through them." The man pointed a finger at a leatherbound book on the desk.
John thanked him and opened it, pointing at one every couple of seconds. "That one?" he asked Sherlock.
"Too feminine."
"Okay..." John searched again. "That one?"
"Boring."
"This one?"
"Don't like the design."
"What about this one?" John was beginning to sound desperate.
"Hm, no. I don't like that."
"What one then?" John said, exasperated.
Sherlock trailed his fingers over the pages before settling on a simple style. It was dark blue, blended into a lighter shade at the centre. Along the left side was a white stencil of flowers and leaves, curving round where the text would be. "That one."
John looked at it and pursed his lips. "Alright, we can have that one."
"How many do you want?" The tan man asked from behind the desk.
"Well, let's see. I can invite my parents, they won't come though. At least I can say I did invite them. I'll only really be having my sister and about three friends from the army. Sherlock?"
"My parents. Mycroft. A special guest..."
"Special?"
"It's a surprise. Oh, Molly, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson."
"Should we invite Anderson?"
"What? Why?"
"Nice to be nice, Sherlock." John muttered.
Sherlock made some more faces of disbelief and scowled. "Fine, he can come."
"So, that's..." John paused and counted up the figures in his head.
"Fourteen invitations." Sherlock said.
John folded his arms. "Yeah, I know. Right, how much will that be?"
The tan man added up figures on his calculator. "Twenty-one pounds."
John took out his wallet and handed the man the money. "When can we pick them up?"
"Since it's only fourteen, you'll be able to get them in about... three hours."
"Alright, we'll be back soon. Goodbye." Sherlock said quietly and walked out the shop with John.
As the door closed behind them, John shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his head to Sherlock. "Who's the special guest?"
"Surprise."
"Tell me."
"No."
"Sherlock this is our wedding! You can't keep this a secret."
"I can and I will."
"But, I ju-. wha-" John took his hands out and shook them infront of Sherlock. "You're unbelievable."
Sherlock snickered. "Thankyou."
John grumbled and put his hands back. There was no point arguing-he wouldn't win. "Know what? Fine. Fine. Go ahead! Invite whoever you want. Not like it's our wedding or anything."
"You should go on that show," Sherlock smirked.
"What show?"
"Bridezillas."
John punched Sherlock's shoulder lightly. "Shut up."
Sherlock chuckled and nudged him with his shoulder. "I'm only kidding. C'mon. Let's go get the photogropher."
A quick taxi drive later, the men stood outside a the man's shop. Inside it was bustling with couples, all looking a certain photographs and deciding which photographer to book. As they stepped inside, they were greeted warmly by an old lady, with long auburn hair greying at the roots.
"Hello, boys. How can I help you?"
"We've got an appointment with George, actually." John said kindly to the old lady.
"Oh, right this way, dear." She led them through the shop to where a tall blonde man stood, working on his iPad. "George!"
"Huh?"
"These men have an appointment with you! Put away your i-thingy and help them." She scolded him.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, guys. So, Mr Watson I presume?"
"Yeah. That lady seemed awful rough with you, is she allowed to do that?"
"She's my grandmother. She could hit me with a slipper and I couldn't fire her. If I did she'd probably hit me with the slipper again." George joked and shook their hands. "So, you wanna hire me to cover your wedding?"
John smiled. "Yes. I've seen your work, it's very good. Are you free for June 14th?"
"George picked up his iPad and looked through it, presumably on a calender. "Yep...it appears I am."
"Excellent! Well, it starts at twelve. You'd be there till about five, is that okay?" John tapped his foot nervously.
"Yeah yeah that's fine. Do you want a videographer, too?"
"Yeah, that's be great." John nodded and stood closer to Sherlock. "That is alright, isn't it?"
"Of course, why wouldn't it be?" He asked, looking down at John.
"I just wanna make sure I'm not taking control of this whole wedding, that's all."
"John, you're a bridezilla. Embrace it."
John scrowled and nudged him. "Ass."
Sherlock laughed at looked at George. "How much for both of you?"
"For both of us from twelve to five, it would be eight hundred. It's a bargain, we're both fully qualified and all my staff have spent at least three years studying photography and have covered weddings before. The cameras are high-quality and will take really good pictures and videos. It's worth the money."
"That's really good!" John mused and looked at Sherlock. "What do you think?"
"I don't know how much these things cost usually. But I assume it's a good price." Sherlock said, leaning against one of the counters.
"Yeah, we'll take that deal please." John said, and he and Sherlock followed John to the counter.
"Gran, they're taking the eight hundred deal, okay? Write down all their details and put it in my appointment book for June fourteenth, too." George gave them a quick smile and was off to help other customers.
"Hello, dear. Now, if you could just fill out this form, please. It's just names, venues, times, things like that. I'll write it in his appointment book while you do that." She handed Sherlock a pen. Once he'd written all the inforamation, she took the pen off him and wrote down the venue and times in an old appointment book. "Thankyou. He's got all his information on his i-thingy, but I always telll him it's better on paper! Was he polite to you?"
"Oh, yes. Definitely." John assured the old lady and shook her hand. "Well, goodbye."
"Goodbye, boys. Have a nice day!"
Sherlock walked out and sighed. John turned to face him and noticed his weary expression.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm just tired, that's all. And hungry. And bored." Sherlock grumbled, the light wind blowing his hair away from his face.
"I'm sorry planning our wedding isn't exciting for you. Would you like to go home? I'll do it myself. I'm clearly more interested than you." John said coldly, throwing his head down and walking faster.
"What? John, no-" Sherlock placed a gloved hand on his shoulder and turned him around.
"All you'd have to do then is show up." John clenched his jaw and looked away.
"John, stop! I never meant that, okay? All I was saying is that I never knew how much preparation went into a wedding. I'm excited to be marrying you, trust me. It's just all the middle part that's boring."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm just stressed. We have so much to do!" John lay his head against Sherlock's chest.
Sherlock blinked. "We do? I thought we'd done pretty much everything."
"Are you kidding? We have to get fitted for suits, once a month until the wedding. We have to buy suits first though. And get Lestrade a tie. And dresses for the bridesmades, who'll also have to be fitted. We've got to get a band to play, and check the menue for the catering. We'll have to reserve rooms in hotels for out of town guests, like my sister, friends and your parents. We've got to plan the honeymoon, mail the invitations, arrange transportation, book the rehersal dinner, find out who's giving speeches, buy rings, get makeup and hair artists for the bridesmades, give the band a list of songs we'd like them to play, decide whether to write vows or go origional-"
"Alright! I get the point. Weddings are hard to plan." Sherlock looked shocked; how could it involve so many things?
"I know." John said exhaustedly. "That's why I'm so stressed!"
"Okay, okay. What's next for today?" He asked, giving John a hug to calm his nerves.
"Next? Lunch. I'm starving."
Sherlock gave a silent laugh and let go of John. "Let's go get food then. Then we can pick up the invitations and go home."
"Sounds like a plan."
In the cafe.
John ate his salad, putting pieces of lettuce and chicken into his mouth slowly as he looked out the window. It was chilly, but the sun seemed to be straining to show through the clouds, as if desperate to break free. Sherlock eyed John's meal.
"Why are you eating salad?"
"Don't wanna be fat at the fitting."
"You're not fat anyway. You don't even like salad."
"I'll learn to." John shovelled more of it into his mouth to prove his point.
"You are such a woman sometimes."
"Please, what would you know about women."
"I lived with Mycroft for a very long time. I may not know much about relationships, but I know plently about yo-yo dieting and crying because you're too fat to get into jeans, or-"
"Wait, wait-" John laughed and wiped his mouth, "Mycroft cried because he couldn't fit into his jeans?"
Sherlock chuckled. "Well, not cried exactly. But he did have a temper tantrum and ate carrot sticks for a week."
John laughed loudly and rubbed his eyes. "Oh man, poor guy. He's thin now though."
"We should get the band to play 'Big Girls You Are Beautiful' By Mika, just so he knows he can have all the cake he wants and Lestrade will still want him."
"Wait, Lestrade? Is everyone gay?"
"Well, I wouldn't class us as gay. I'm more asexual and you're..."
"I don't even like men. Only you."
"Selectively gay, you're selectively gay."
"Is Greg selectively gay, too?"
"I'd say he's just crazy. Anyone who likes my brother has to be."
"Says the psychopath." John muttered under his breath, smirking.
Sherlock turned on him and put on a stern voice. "I'm not a psychopath! I'm a sociopath, there's a difference."
"Did I say psychopath?" John feigned shock. "I meant sociopath."
"Eat your salad." The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned up.
"Yes, Sir." John mock saluted him and picked at his lunch.
"Oh, I like that." Sherlock whispered, facing him.
"Like what?"
"The 'Yes, Sir'. We have to use that more often."
"Oh. Technicaly it should be me giving the orders but I'm, you know, I'm willing to share." John smiled and took a drink from his can.
"Either way is good with me. I wonder if you're hot in uniform." Sherlock eyed him up.
"Stop undressing me with your eyes." John joked "Anyway, I'm hot in everything, you should know that."
"I do. But I'll definitely have to see you in uniform sometime."
"I haven't worn it since I came back. But it's probably lying about the flat somewhere," John said, trying to think.
Sherlock nodded and finished the rest of his coffee. "Ready to go get the cards?"
"Yeah." John left the rest of his salad and placed the money under his plate. "Let's go."
At home.
John and Serlock sat on the couch, legs crossed in a basket. They were writing on the invitations by hand, to save a bit of money. Sherlock's handwriting was slanted and curling, whereas John's was small and detached.
Each card read:
Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Mr. John Watson
Invite you to join them in their celebration of marriage,
On Saturday, 14th June at 12 o'clock.
At the Quinn Mansion, London.
Reception to follow in the Rose Room.
name:
_Will attend.
_Will not attend.
"Right, that's one for my parents, one for my sister and three for some friends done. What about you?" John asked, sticking the card carefully in the envelope and writing the name on the back.
"Finished my parents. Mycroft's too. Just got my, ahem, other guest to do. You can do our friends. And Anderson's." Shrlock smiled brightly and set to work on his last invitation.
John shook his head and picked up another blue sheet. He wrote the same thing again and adressed the label to Mrs Hudson. A minute later, he was finished Molly's, Greg's and Anderson's. "There, done. We can give them out tomorrow." Don't forget the adresses for your parents."
"I know, John. I have written a letter before."
"Okay, sorry. Just making sure." John set his pen dpwn and flopped exhausted against Sherlock. "It's been a long day."
Sherlock shifted and leaned back, John leaning against his chest. "Tell me about it."
John stretched his legs out and nuzzeled against him. "I am so worn out."
"It'll all be worth it, don't worry." Sherlock kissed the top of his head and wrapped an arm around him.
"I know it will. You're worth it." John mumbled, face pressed against his chest.
Sherlock smiled and hugged John tighter. It felt so good to be next to him, to have him so close. It seemed to make everything else melt away.
"Sherlock?" John yawned, his hand draped around Sherlock's waist.
"What?" he asked quietly.
"Sing me a song."
"What? Sherlock laughed quietly and rubbed his thumb across John's hand.
"Please."
Sherlock was silent and John began to wonder if he'd do it. Then he heard the low voice at his ear. "Yes, Sir."
John smiled and closed his eyes.
Sherlock took a deep breath and sang quietly.
"Settle down with me
Cover me up
Cuddle me in
Lie down with me
And hold me in your arms
And your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck.
I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet.
And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now...
Kiss me like you wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
This feels like falling in love
Falling in love
We're falling in love...
Settle down with me,
And I'll be your safety.
You'll be my lady.
I was made to keep your body warm,
But I'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms...
Oh no,
My heart's against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck.
I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet.
And with this feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now..
Kiss me like you wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
This feels like falling in love
Falling in love
We're falling in love
Yeah, I've been feeling everything from hate to love from love to lust
From lust to truth I guess that's how I know you
So I hold you close to help you give it up
So kiss me like you wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
This feels like falling in love
Falling in love
We're falling in love
Kiss me like you wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
You wanna be loved
This feels like falling in love
Falling in love
We're falling in love..."
When he looked down, he saw John was sound asleep, a slight smile on his lips. He seemed so much younger when he sleeped. All the worries and stress, all the bad memoried and regrets, they all seemed to melt away.
Sherlock smiled and kissed his lips gently. "Let's get you to bed."
Carefully, he shifted round and slid his hands under John and lifted him up. Making sure not to jolt him, he carried him to the bedroom and laid him down gently on the bed. He flung his own coat over a chair and changed into some pyjammas. John was still fully clothed and laying on the bed. With his hands on his hips, Sherlock huffed a sigh and took John's shoes off. He managed to get his jeans off him without waking him up, and slipped him into some pyjamma bottoms.
"You really are tired, aren't you?" he whispered quietly. Of course there was no reply, John was still sleeping soundly on the bed.
Sherlock shook his head and smiled. He turned the light out and climbed in next to John, pulling the covers up over him. Leaning over, he planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Goodnight, soldier."