Author's Note:
So much cuteness and fluff in this story, I can hardly stand it. Thanks to everyone who leaves reviews!
Sherlock smirked once more and gave John's hand a gentle squeeze. "There is a long way back to anywhere, if you know the place well enough and it just so happens I do." He picked up the cane and flicked off the lamp as he led his husband back to the passage. He took the first right they came to. "This will take us to the wine cellar, which is actually underground outside where the ceremony was. We can walk through the garden, before heading back inside if you want."
As John followed Sherlock he let his eyes wander everything they passed. He had nearly missed Sherlock talking to him. "I like the sound of that. Very... romantic." He smiled like a fool. It was all he could do around Sherlock now that the man was his husband. Just stare at him and smile. It was like the man in front of him had always been unattainable and now he was John's. "I love you," he said with awe.
Romantic? Sherlock supposed it was if John said so. Things like that escaped him usually. They came to a dead end eventually, and he flipped a switch and a giant circle opened the way. "Thirty gallon barrel head made of solid oak. There is of course no alcohol in it." When they passed through, he twisted the tap on the end and it went back in place. "Oh damn...the door outside will be locked. Hold on..." He let go of John's hand and walked to an old style phone hanging on the wall. He tapped the part the held the receiver five times. "Charlie? I was giving John a tour of the tunnels under the manor and we ended up in the wine cellar, could you let us out? That would be splendid. Thank you." He hung up the phone and walked back to his husband.
"You grew up in a fairy tale," John told Sherlock with wide eyes. "Literally. That bathroom we met in? Bigger than my bedroom growing up." He looked around and shook his head in disbelief. He felt like growing up and supporting his family had been the wrong thing now. "I wish I would have met you so much sooner." His mouth twisted to one side as he locked his eyes on his husband. "Do you think your Mum is going to be upset?"
Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Normal to me but I guess most people didn't grow up like I did." He thought about John's question a moment before answering. "I don't know. Maybe. It depends on what the real reason for being upset was when she left the ballroom. I doubt it was actually you, not if she had been crying..."
John tensed for a moment. Did he tell Sherlock why his Mum had really been crying? She had clearly tried to hide it from both of her sons for a reason. "Well, it certainly wasn't me," he said softly as he looked around. He couldn't meet Sherlock's gaze now. Lying to him, hiding the truth, never made John feel good. "I will talk to her," he decided with a nod.
Sherlock raised a suspicious eyebrow but ended up nodding instead of inquiring further when he heard the door to the cellar being opened.
"Young Master Holmes, I am here!" Charlie came down the stairs.
"Yes, thank you Charlie. Could you tend to my room and take the cane back for me?" Sherlock asked as he offered the servant the object.
"Of course Young Master Holmes. Anything for you!" Charlie bowed, took the cane and disappeared behind the barrel head.
"I tried to get him to stop calling me that, but it never worked. Obviously." Sherlock smirked and began heading up the stairs.
"Why? Young Master Holmes has quite the ring to it," John teased softly as he followed Sherlock. "Maybe I will start calling you that. Would it make you buy the milk?" He grinned as they reached the top of the stairs, blinking rapidly. He took several steps forward and laughed. "I am walking like I have been shagged. We are doomed, Sherlock."
Sherlock groaned. "Please don't." He locked the cellar once they were out, and then took John by the hand once more. He motioned his head behind them. "Over there is the vineyard, but we want to head to the garden which is the other way." The grass was very green and short, it had been maintained well by the groundskeeper.
John followed him with a smile and giggle. "It is either that or Sex God," he whispered softly, squeezing Sherlock's hand. At this point, John wanted to spend time with his husband outside, alone, and certainly not surrounded by people. "Sherlock." He stopped walking abruptly and met his husband's lips, nipping at his bottom lip. Too many emotions. He was so happy. The only thing he could think of doing was kissing his husband.
"As appealing to my ego as that sounds, I think I will just skip having a nickname." Sherlock smirked a bit as he returned the kiss, pulling John into a hug. It was nice to be away from all those people. Crowds had never really suited him. "Love you," he said behind the kiss. A hand moved to run through his husband's hair.
John moaned softly in response, tangling his hand in Sherlock's hair and giving a gentle tug. His free hand moved under the layers of his husband's clothing to rub at the skin, tracing shapes at random. After a long moment he pulled away and took a long, deep breath. "Your mouth should be illegal."
Sherlock smirked. "I can't help it if amazing at kissing. If it is any consolation, I had a very good teacher. As much as I would love to continue this my dear doctor, we should go. They are probably missing us already."
Going back to the reception was necessary but John wanted to stay, wanted to keep Sherlock to himself. "As long as I get to lick frosting off of you later," he stated seriously as he grabbed his husband's hand and gave it a playful tug. "Besides, I promised your Mum a dance. Should probably follow through." He stood on his toes, placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek, and pulled him toward the ballroom.
"I guess that sounds like a reasonable deal." Sherlock smirked a bit and then raised a curious brow. "Oh you did, now did you? Why by all means, you shouldn't disappoint her." He smirked again as John tugged on him but he followed after his husband. "Already got the place figured out then? Are you sure this is the right way?" The smirk got bigger, teasing John was more fun than it probably should be but he always enjoyed doing it anyway.
John stopped abruptly, glancing in either direction before biting his bottom lip. He was fairly sure this was the way, the sound of talking and laughing and music was increasing. "I... Yes?" He looked back at Sherlock with a puzzled gaze and couldn't help but roll his eyes. "You git," he said with a laugh, shoving gently at his husband's lower stomach with his free hand. "You like to just watch me wander off, do you?" He glanced in every direction he could before shrugging. "Which way is it, then, Young Master Holmes?"
Sherlock continued to smirk but it disappeared into a mock glare at the last comment. "You were going the right way. I just like seeing you squirm as you second guess yourself." A faint smirk returned. "Well then, my adorable dear doctor let us keep going. You don't want to keep my Mum waiting now do you?"
Oh, adorable? John returned the playful glare before taking two steps toward the house. "I am not adorable, you know," he said softly, raising an eyebrow. "I have killed people. There is a gun in the bedside table back at the flat. I curse like a sailor." He squeezed Sherlock's hand and turned as they entered the ballroom. All he was met with was knowing smiles, knowing gazes, and Mycroft glaring at them like they were children who had just ruined their best clothes. "They know," he whispered as a blush spread across his cheeks.
"Well, I am no one's master," Sherlock retorted and when they walked into the ballroom all he could was smirk. He didn't give a damn that everyone knew. Let them. It was their wedding reception; shouldn't they be allowed to do whatever they wanted to?
Nancy approached them with a shake of her head. "Did you two really need to take so long? I could only stall for so long, you know." A faint smile touched her lips.
"What? I was just showing giving John a tour of the mansion." Sherlock replied with faked innocence, although his ever present smirk was a clear indicator he was full of shit.
John stumbled over his words, looking up at Sherlock and then back at Nancy. "Oh, goodness, M-Mrs. Holmes. I- I mean, we... well, it is just..." He dropped his head instantly with a small groan. "Sorry," he whispered with a blush, scooting closer to Sherlock's side and squeezing his hand.
"Must you two run off to shag in the middle of your own wedding reception?" Mycroft came to stand beside his mother with a small shake of his head. "Forty-five minutes. Really?"
"To be fair, most of that time really was spent showing John around the mansion. We just took a momentary detour." Sherlock's smirk never faltered once, clearly proud of himself despite his older brother disapproving actions. He returned John's squeeze of the hand.
Nancy shook her head. "It is done, but instead of the servants cleaning up tonight you two will! Is that understood young men? Honestly, the youth these days…"
Sherlock knew better than to try and argue with his mother. He merely nodded instead, the smirk finally fading.
The moment Nancy spoke John's head shot up. Clean up? Clean up their own reception? On their wedding night? John wasn't supposed to be cleaning, he was supposed to be shagging Sherlock into next week. His eyes went wide and he glanced at Sherlock, who apparently only had the last word until his Mum was around.
"John! Did it work, then?" Harry rushed up to them, holding Amy in her arms, and grinning at the two of them. It was clear she was a Watson: short, sandy blonde hair. Strong jaw and expressive blue eyes.
"Harry, not now," John said with a bit of grin, forcing it down as he glanced back at Nancy. "Mrs. Holmes, I promised you a dance." He pulled away slowly from his husband and offered his hand to her.
The smirk returned quickly as John's sister ran up. "It worked rather well, thank you Harry."
"Nancy," She corrected automatically." And yes you do, dear." Nancy looked to Sherlock. "Don't think for a second you can pass off clean up to Charlie either!"
"Mum, I would never dream of-" Sherlock was cut short.
"Oh, I know better. How many times did that poor man clean up after when you made a mess and I told you, you had to do it as a boy?"She turned her attention back to John. "I always did have a thing for military men." She gave her son-in-law a playful wink.
John blushed as Nancy winked at him, grabbing her hand and leading her to the dance floor. He started the rhythm on his own, a bit proud as he met her gaze. "This really has been lovely, N-Nancy," he stumbled over her name, still awkward over calling her by her given name. "I owe you so much. I am getting my last paycheck from the Army in a few weeks, I will go ahead and give that to you as a bit of repayment." He nodded with a tight smile.
Nancy shook her head as she danced with John. "No. Absolutely not. You keep that money young man. It isn't proper to say or brag, but Honey I have more money than I could possibly ever need. Half of it will go to you and Sherlock when I pass of course. The will has already been amended to include you."
"Sherlock." Harry glanced at her younger brother and Nancy before looking back at him. "Take care of him, will you?" She shifted Amy in her arms and bit her bottom lip. "I know it is your wedding and you are both happy but... I have never seen him look so bad since... since Dad died. He didn't sleep for days and... Just take care of him for me, will you?"
Sherlock nodded, unsure how to interact with John's sister. This was the first time they had really met or even spoken. "Of course. I am hoping the honeymoon will help a bit." He gave a smirk to Harry.
"Oh." John nodded slightly and squeezed her hand. "I just want you to know that you have been a perfect Mum to me. I am sure my own Mum would be proud." He placed a kiss on her cheek in thanks. "Thank you. For everything, really. The wedding, the honeymoon... Sherlock."
"That's what mothers are for dear, but you are more than welcome." Nancy gave John a warm smile.
Harry gave a small nod and looked down in alarm as Amy let out a small cry. "Well, Sherlock, it has been wonderful to finally meet you. Take care of my baby brother or I'll hurt you." She grinned and scampered off toward a bathroom, stopping to grab the diaper bag on her way out.
Sherlock arched a brow as he watched Harry leave with little Sandi. What an interesting person. Not like John at all, well a similar sense of humor. He glanced over to his husband and mother dancing. The man was dancing quite well. He smirked to himself at the thought.
"I... don't want to make this awkward." John suddenly couldn't meet her gaze, taking a deep breath and smirked at the thought of what he was about to ask. "Sherlock and Mycroft have both said that if I-we... If we were loud tonight during... our wedding night, that you would walk in." He chanced a quick look at her and cleared his throat. "Y-You won't do that, will you?"
Nancy couldn't help but laugh loudly at the question. "I hadn't planned on it my dear. Like I said, there is a reason you have an entire wing to yourselves tonight. But if you make enough noise for the other side of the mansion to hear, well I just might have to say something. People will be trying to sleep. It would be impolite to keep them awake, with your…activities."
Right. John might have to hold his tongue tonight, especially after what he had planned. "Right. Yes, ma'am, of course." He nodded and gave her a gentle hug as the song came to an end. "Thank you again. Really, it means a lot." He smiled warmly and turned back to Sherlock with a wide grin. The ballroom was slowly emptying out and that meant... clean up, for Christ's sake. The ballroom was gigantic. There was no way they would finish quickly. He approached his husband and bit his bottom lip. "Might just shag you right here on this floor."
Nancy returned the hug and as John walked away, she spoke. "Since you two disappeared for almost an hour, the photographer will be back tomorrow morning for the pictures. So, try not to ruin the tuxedoes."
"You, my dear doctor, are insatiable." Sherlock glanced around the ballroom. "I think we only have to worry about the trash. Looks like the servants are getting the extra food and what have you."
"I knew next to nobody at this wedding. Why am I picking up trash?" John glanced at the open bar and moved quickly to grab a bottle of beer. "Well, we might as well start." He took several large gulps before raising a brow at his husband. "Shall we, dear?" He smiled and finished off the bottle, tossing it in a trash bin before moving to pick up empty cups and bottles.
"Neither did I. Mostly friend's of the family and other important socialites who do charity events with my mother." Sherlock gave a slight shrug and began helping John. "It could have been worse, you know. Mum could have made us sleep in different rooms tonight." His smirk returned as he glanced over to his husband.
"I would have found my way into your room," John stated seriously, tossing a few bits of trash away with a small laugh. "Would have been loud to show off, to let everybody know I made my way to you." He moved toward his husband and gently ran his hand across his chest and stomach. "Clean enough, you think?" He took a deep breath and tilted his head, nipping at Sherlock's pulse point.
Sherlock smirked at John and then arched a brow as he took a look around; it looked half way decent he supposed. "Just so you know, my Mum will only make us do more chores tomorrow if we don't do this to her satisfaction and wake us up early to start them. So, if you are okay with that…then by all means, let us retire to our room."
"Already have to wake up to take pictures," John growled into Sherlock's neck, pressing against him. "I refuse to clean up because you wanted to shag me in your underground room. Refuse," he whispered with a grin, slipping his fingers into the waistband of his husband's pants and tugging gently. He couldn't wait anymore. Their wedding night was to be spent in a bedroom keeping each other awake. Not cleaning a bloody ballroom. "Now."
Sherlock smirked. "All right then." His Mum would most likely be upset with them and be less than pleasant tomorrow, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want John to think he was trying to stall. Once when he was young, he had refused to do something his mother had asked and then the next day he'd had to do the chores of all the servants because his mother had given them day off. Hopefully his mother would be more understanding this time around. Or maybe if he was lucky, Charlie would finish up for them and Mummy would be none the wiser.
John grinned proudly and pressed against Sherlock eagerly. Perfect. "Where? Don't know my way around, apparently." He let his hand move completely inside his husband's pants, moving around to cup his ass. Normally he had some semblance of self control, especially in public, but now he couldn't stop.
Sherlock pressed into John. "Eager are we, my dear doctor? Come on then." He tugged gently on his husband's hand and then began leading them out of the ballroom and up two extensive stair cases. All the bedrooms were on the third floor, except for the servant's quarters. He then took them left where a red velvet rope with a sign blocked the way to a hallway. "Reserved," he read out loud with a smirk and then moved past it. "We should probably take the room at the very end."
"Your Mum doesn't joke around, does she?" John asked as they passed the rope. Could it be more obvious that the married couple would be shagging in this hallway? He blushed at the thought. Everybody knew what they were doing right now. Even Nancy. He squeezed Sherlock's had. "Sod it." He tugged Sherlock into a room and the moment the door shut, pinned him against it. He met his husband's lips with a small moan.
Sherlock smirked and was about to comment, when John pulled him into a room and had him pressed against the door. He returned the kiss, arms wrapping around his husband immediately. John sure seemed eager, well the other man always was but it seemed his husband was more so this time around. He wondered what his partner had planned tonight.
John pulled away with a small gasp, tugging at the tie around Sherlock's neck hastily. "Off," he growled, yanking it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind him. After their earlier romp, his senses were heightened and he was ready to go, ready to make Sherlock moan and beg. "Bed," he stated against his husband's lips, stumbling in the dark as he pulled Sherlock with him in the direction he sincerely hopes is the bed.
Sherlock arched a brow but did as John asked. His husband was acting as if they had never shagged before or even just a few hours ago. He moved over to the bed carefully, after watching his partner maneuver with a bit of difficulty. He laid down, watching John's shadowy form with curiosity and interest.
All of the excitement was almost too much. John paused, looking at his husband for a long moment before biting his bottom lip. This night was supposed to be special. For John, he had planned it out just for Sherlock. The man laying on the bed never thought he would matter to anybody and now John couldn't see his life without him. Sherlock deserved something special, even if they had already shagged during the reception. "I love you," he whispered as he crawled on to the bed, moving to straddle Sherlock's hips. "You mean the world to me." He pulled the vest of Sherlock's tuxedo open, pulling the shirt out of his pants and running his left hand under it lightly. Calm. Stay calm.
"I love you too," Sherlock replied and couldn't help but squirm into John's touch, but stilled himself after a moment. His husband seemed to have something in mind for the night and he didn't want to ruin whatever it was. He did reach up a hand to run through his partner's hair, though. He had promised the other man complete control for dancing well, and John had done so. Better than he expected, even. His husband had earned it.
"I'm nervous," John admitted softly, meeting Sherlock's gaze in the dark. "What we did earlier... it was special. I don't want to let you down." He slowly started unbuttoning his husband's shirt. He shifted and lower his mouth to place soft kisses against the exposed skin of Sherlock's chest. He'd had the night planned for a while, had talked to Mycroft and managed to find the head cook in the kitchen when they had arrived. Everything would have been perfect if Sherlock hadn't shown him that little room, hadn't shagged him within an inch of his life. He let his tongue dart out over the scar on his husband's chest.
Special? Sherlock wasn't sure how, but decided not to ask. He did know that he and John viewed relationships completely differently. Partly because he was just inept at them but also because sometimes he just couldn't grasp certain concepts. "No need to be nervous and I find it highly unlikely you will disappoint me."