Again, late, but I had this written~ Someone asked me about John so there you have it, I think I tied up the loose ends there a little.
This is perhaps the last chapter, depending if I can summon the energy to write another
If I can't, you can find me either on: notflyingwithotters . tumblr . com
Or (more likely) friendsarentmyarea . tumblr . com
Martin had always hated weddings. Sherlock had never been invited, except to his ex-flatmate John's; he'd usually insulted the couple in some way. So when the invite to Caitlin's wedding dropped through the door, Martin felt an incredible thrill of dread, and stared at it for a while. When Sherlock had woken, early afternoon as he'd been awake for over fourty hours before, he sat himself down on Martin's lap and curled his arms around him.
"What's wrong?" He murmured softly, pressing his nose into Martin's hair.
"Nothing." He replied just as softly, taking a sip of his tea.
"You're lying." Martin gave a quiet sigh.
"I, well we, have been invited to my sister's wedding." He kept his arms around Sherlock, the consulting detective warm and reassuringly solid against him.
"Which is a bad thing?" Sherlpck quirked a brow and ran a hand along Martin's arm.
"Caitlin and Simon were always the favourites to my dad. I'm the middle child so no one was really interested in me." Sherlock kissed his temple lazily.
"I am. Do you want to go?"
"It's an obligation... They are family."
"Do you want me there?" Martin nodded and rested his head against Sherlock's chest. "I find weddings intolerably dull, however for you I'll suffer it."
"Love you too." He smiled and felt Sherlock laugh quietly beside him.
Caitlin and her husband were married on a sunny Saturday morning just under a hundred miles from London, and Sherlock and Martin were in attendance. Despite Sherlock's deductions about the family and the glares he was getting, Martin was incredibly glad he was there. Especially at the reception when he had to give a speech, he kept a hand in Sherlock's.
"Right... Caitlin knows how bad I am at speeches... So I'll keep this as short as I can. I'm Martin and I'm his- her! Her brother. I'm so honoured to be here and you look beautiful Caite. I um... Um... Yeah congratulations your husband is a very lucky woman. Man! Very lucky man!" He blushed bright red and sank into his seat, hiding his face in Sherlock's shoulder as the majority of guests glared at him.
"I was awful." Martin murmured into Sherlocks shoulder as the short smattering of applause died a death. Sherlock squeezed his hand gently and kissed the top of his head, earning a few sidelong glances from the elderly people sat near them.
"It doesn't matter that you aren't good at speeches." Sherlock told him gently, rubbing his back in small circles.
"You agree I was bad?" He sniffed, slightly put out.
"You just need practise." He comforted soothingly, wrapping his arms loosely around Martins waist. "And you were fine." He added hastily as he saw the look in his partners eyes. Martin glared briefly, but settled down against him, watching the other speeches with feigned interest, feeling Sherlocks heart beat against his back.
Speeches and meal over, the lights began to dim and a spotlight lit up the dancefloor as Caitlin and her husband stepped onto the pale golden floorboards, varnished and reflecting back the shattered light from the ceiling. Martin stayed resolutely sat, pretending not to notice Sherlocks glances as the floor began to fill with couples. As the chorus of "Time Of My Life" faded into the second verse, Sherlock took Martins hands and pulled him up.
"N-no Sherlock I don't dance."
"Well I do." Martin bit his lip hard at the slight teasing quality in Sherlocks voice and gazed at him.
"Please." His voice was hushed.
"Trust me."
"I do! But I'm so clumsy and if I get dizzy I pass out..." Sherlock gave him an uncharacteristically warm smile and pulled him close.
"I won't let anything happen to you. I swear."
"Sherlock..." Martin pleaded quietly, already blushing in the dim light.
"Trust me." He said softly, taking his hands and leading him onto the dancefloor. Martin shook his head, horribly apprehensive.
"No I'll look stupid, please Sherlock." Sherlock kissed his cheek.
"I've got you." One arm very gently slid around his waist, while the other kept its hold on Martins hand. "Hand on my shoulder." He told him softly, wincing a little at how tight he was being held, Martins nails digging into his skin very slightly.
"I can't do this." He whimpered softly, making to pull away. Sherlock kept his arms tight around Martin, slowly leading him in a simple step, smiling as Martin kept up.
"You can." He murmured gently. Martin shook his head and blushed, hiding his face in Sherlocks shirt.
"I really can't, Sherlock." But his protests were less forceful than before, and Sherlock started to lead him in more complicated steps, until he felt Martin stumble a little and pulled him close, just swaying as the track changed.
"Are you alright?" He asked him softly, conscious that he might have made him dizzy.
"I started thinking about how I couldn't dance and I tripped..." He muttered, keeping his gaze averted. Sherlock smiled and kissed his temple very gently.
"You did great." He told him, leading him into a corner and revolving on the spot.
"I tripped. Why can't I ever be good at something?" Martin sighed and made to pull away, but Sherlock brought the shaking pilot close to his chest.
"You're a good pilot, you're a good person, and you're a fantastic partner to me." Sherlock soothed, draping his jacket over Martins shoulders. "I'll get you a drink." He kept a hand on the small of his back and lead him to the bar, ignoring the stares.
As the evening drew to a close, champagne was poured and several toasts made to the couple, and the band struck up for its final half hour set. Martin sipped his champagne nervously, very aware that his alcohol tolerance was low and he'd had a few other drinks before. Sherlock draped his arms around him and nuzzled into his hair.
"Having a good time?"
"If you weren't here I'd have left ages ago." He replied, leaning back into his touch. Sherlock smiled gently, lips pressed against Martins neck.
"Well I'm pleasantly tipsy, I wanted to experiment." He squeezed him again. His hands took Martins as he stepped in front of him.
"Don't make me dance again." Martin blushed and chewed his lip as Sherlock gave a tiny smile, pulling him onto the nearly empty dancefloor. Martin shook his head, opening his mouth and aiming to protest, but Sherlock silenced him with a kiss.
"Father of the groom has been wondering about us all night." He smiled again, ignoring the few dirty looks they were getting from the grandparents in the room, and concentrating on the majority that were watching them with smiles on their faces.
"I can't dance Sherlock, they're watching..." He paled now, gazing up at his lover with a scared expression on his face.
"I'll lead." He said softly, returning to the position before and leading him around the floor, making it so that Martin couldn't trip, and if he did no one would notice.
"Sherlock what are you doing?"
"Dancing with my partner at a wedding, is that not what people do?" He smiled at that, going on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
"It's disconcerting. But I like how attentive you're being." Sherlock beamed, a proper smile, one that Martin hardly ever saw.
"I promised you, after you found me in that... Depression, that I'd be a better partner." He reminded softly, his face pained as though he couldn't bear to talk about it.
"And I told you you didn't need to." Sherlock shrugged.
"I wanted to." He said softly, shifting both hands to Martins waist and feeling the pilot place both hands on his shoulders.
"Thank you." Martin murmured in reply, resting his head on Sherlocks chest and hearing the strong heartbeat resonate in his ears.
"I love you." Sherlock whispered, his lips right against Martins ear, as though he was afraid to say it too loudly. "It's been a while since I felt emotion this strong." He continued, holding the pilot in his arms and slowly spinning, eyes closed.
"I love you too." Martin replied gently, kissing Sherlock on the cheek, and moving to his lips. "You know I do." Sherlock nodded and opened his eyes to gaze at Martin.
"I know. Thank you." He took in a deep breath of Martins scent and squeezed him to him.
"For what?"
"Not running away." Sherlocks voice dropped, suddenly sober. "Everyone else did."
"Never." Martin cupped Sherlocks chin in both hands. "Never."
Ugh sorry for the delay. I've been so so busy!
I hope you liked it :3