After months of meticulous planning, teary tantrums on all fronts, and a slight push from Mycroft to change the law regarding marriage, the day finally dawned. It surprised Sherlock how excited he was; before John, the idea of committing to one person for life baffled him. How could one be so sure that what they had would last forever, and that nobody would tire of the other party? The idea of love itself was a foreign concept until John, and Sherlock was still inexperienced and unsure of how things worked. But he was learning. He learnt, on their first Valentine's together, that forgetting about a public holiday could cause upset.
John waited in his dressing room, nervous as hell. He was excited though; today they would announce their vows and set off on their honeymoon. They'd decided to write their own (Sherlock's idea, surprisingly enough) and John was worried about his. Was it too clichée? Was he going to stumble over his words? "What if?"s chased one another around his brain, mirroring the butterflies in his abdomen. He felt ever so slightly sick with worry. Harry entered, looking radiant in her bridesmaid's dress, having tackled her alcoholism. She smiled at John, his traditional tuxedo emphasizing his rugged, handsome appearance.
"It's time" was all she said. It was all she needed to say. Taking John's arm, she led him to the registry office, soothing him with words that John hardly noticed. Telling him how handsome he looked, how lucky Sherlock was to have him, and how she was so proud of him. She led him gently into the foyer, and waited patiently with him as he bounced on the balls of his feet. If this was how nervous John was, goodness knows what Sherlock, a self-proclaimed sociopath, a man who previously barely knew the definition of "love", was feeling.
Little did John know that Sherlock was as calm and collected as ever. Mycroft, having escorted Mummy and her ridiculous hat to her seat, returned to Sherlock to offer some last-minute advice. Like John, however, Sherlock hardly paid attention to his brother's speech; when did he ever? A slight discomfort in his abdominal region indicated mild nerves, adrenaline beginning to seep into his bloodstream, but nothing worse. He remained, in appearance, at least, cool. Internally, his brain was gushing with excitement; pictures of what John and he could do, not all of them PG-friendly, soared around; them in bed together, them sharing a country walk that John was so fond of, them sitting in a loveseat in some gaudy gardens, in a coffee shop, even just walking down the street holding hands; all of it seemed so much more exciting when they'd be a married couple. Images that would have induced nausea in his younger years suddenly filled him with joy and anticipation.
Sherlock hardly noticed as Mycroft led him to the office, where John was waiting at the altar. , and Sherlock began to pace down the isle slowly, his eyes meeting John's and, inexplicably, brimming with tears. The registrar began to speak, starting the service as John and Sherlock held hands. They were both slightly sweaty, but refused to break contact to wipe their hands. The time for the vows came, and, as agreed, John went first.
"Sherlock, when I met you I was a shell of a man. The war had taken everything from me, and it had even begun to take my body. You gave me a life of excitement; of chasing criminals around London, of staying up until 6 in the morning when I had work the next day, just to look at some interesting marks on a body, of getting attacked. It has its downsides, but I honestly would not change any minute of my time with you. When you left, it felt like a part of me had died, and I can't tell you how happy I was when that part came back. Now that we're here, saying our voys, I'm absolutely ecstatic; the idea of being with you, for the rest of our lives, is just wonderful in every way. So Sherlock, I love you. I always will. And I'm never giving up on you."
Sherlock, his eyes already brimming with tears, had trouble containing them. He suddenly began to worry that his own speech would be insufficient. Hearing it from anyone else might have induced retching, but from John, it meant the world. Clearing his throat, hoping that his voice wouldn't catch and betray him, Sherlock began.
"I always thought of myself as a sociopath, married to my work and with no time for anyone else in my life. I'd never even had a friend before you, John, and you changed my entire life. I didn't think I was capable of feeling anything until you turned up; you just turned into such an important part in my life. I would kill for you, and I know it's mutual; we've done it often enough. But you're absolutely wonderful to me; you put up with my moods and my playing at three in the morning and all the body parts in the fridge, and you have no idea how glad I am of that; I don't know what I would do if I had to lose you again. And because I've never said it before, I'm sorry for all of the things I do that upset you. I love you, and I will for as long as I live."
Sherlock glanced at John, worried that he might have said the wrong thing, but saw a single tear trail down the man's cheek, and smiled, knowing that they both had said everything they wouldn't previously. The "you may kiss the groom" could not come quick enough for either of them; they needed more contact to wipe away each other's tears, reassure one another.
The reception was a strange experience; John's army mates that hadn't been repulsed by a gay wedding had turned up to make it a drink-fuelled party, Sherlock's family, all there for propriety, were raising the bar a little. It turned into a sort of amalgamation of the two; everyone was getting hammered, but with class. Lady Antebellum's "Just A Kiss" was the couple's first dance, and as they swayed together, John couldn't think of a single thing that could make this any more perfect; the man he loved, officially married to him, and with all of their friends in the room. This was amazing.
As they set off in the Bentley, Sherlock squeezed John's hand gently, mouthing an "I love you" as the car set off for the airport. The honeymoon had been planned entirely by Sherlock, with John kept entirely in the dark. He didn't know they were heading for an exclusive spa, in Paris, with no cases, not even a mobile phone to interrupt them. It was going to be heaven. But nothing, not all the drugs in all the world, could beat the high he got when John mouthed back "I love you too".
