Sherlock woke with a start. It was 3:23pm. Good. That was good. He'd be on time, today. He was surprised he hadn't woken up sooner.

John would be gone by now. That was also good. They would both be on time.

Sherlock rolled onto his side and groaned. He'd been asleep for eighteen full hours. That was nearly unthinkable, for him. He still wanted to sleep, for some reason. No—not some reason. It was clearly the stress he'd been under for the past two weeks. He'd passed out as soon as he hit the bed, with a kiss on the forehead from John, who'd tucked him in before going to bed in the other room.

His phone buzzed. Get your lazy arse out of bed, you tosser. –Lestrade. He chuckled and ignored the text, instead rubbing his temples and stretching. The phone continued to buzz.

Up. NOW. Mycroft's sending a car around 4. –Lestrade

John's going to kill you if you're late. –Lestrade

My only job is to look pretty today. I hardly think I need to be up for anything when Mycroft's taking care of it. SH

You selfish bastard. You realize the only reason he sped up the marriage equality bill's passage was for you. –Lestrade

Well, that certainly seems very selfish, but it does pay to have a brother who runs the British government. SH

The phone continued to buzz, making him groan even more and curl into a ball on the bed.

Get out of bed. JW

Don't tell me Lestrade's been texting you. SH

He hasn't. I just know you. JW

Where are you? SH

Picking up Harry from the airport. JW

Dull. SH

Up. NOW. Don't make me come over there. JW

I think I'd like that quite a bit. SH

Is that an invitation, Detective Watson? JW

Most definitely, Dr. Holmes. SH

John didn't text after that, which Sherlock took to mean he should be getting ready to go. Mrs. Hudson had laid out his tuxedo the night before, ironed and ready to put on. He debated whether or not to look in the classifieds quickly for something that seemed like a probable case. He could finish a small one by 5, couldn't he?

John. There's a missing cat on Gloucester Street. Thirty minutes tops. SH

No. JW

Please? I'll be there on time. I promise. SH

Not today. JW

Don't you love me? SH

Don't exploit my feelings for you to get what you want. You do it every bloody day. JW

Can I at least test the bacteria cultures in the tub? SH

If you don't get them on your tux and you're at the church at 5, you can look at all the culture you want. Just be there. I'm already bloody well worried enough. JW

You know I marry you. SH

Oh, I'll believe it when the rings are on and the certificate is signed, thank you very much. JW

I love you. SH

I know. I love you, too. JW

He'd started to say 'I love you' to John nearly daily, now. After Trenzalore, despite John's insistence that he already knew, Sherlock made sure to tell him constantly, just in case.

With a deep sigh, he launched himself off the bed and took a quick shower. 4.3 minutes, to be exact. He spent an inordinate amount of time trying to brush his curls to look semi-decent, but they refused to behave, so he let them dry springy and full. John would like his hair better that way, anyway.

He had some tea that Mrs. Hudson had thoughtfully brewed for him and carelessly slipped on his shirt, cummerbund, trousers, and suit jacket. He was about to grab the matching tie when he was shocked out of his burst of activity.

No, no, no. A regular tie wouldn't do.

He flailed around the flat for a bit, pulling apart John's entire closet to find what he was looking for. It had been left behind, and it didn't exactly match the color scheme or the design of the tuxedoes they'd gotten, but it would do perfectly.

He took his phone with him and got into the car.

"So, the reception has been all taken care of: gourmet food, seamless transition from ceremony to party, decorations, and even the flowers," Anthea rattled off from her phone to a very nervous John. He stood, tapping his foot anxiously on the church floor, while she explained to him everything that Mycroft had set in place. "Mr. Holmes sends his apologies, but he won't be in attendance at the wedding."

"Why am I not surprised?" John straightened his ivory tie and smoothed down his suit. "What is it, a war in Japan or something?"

"You're close, but no cigar," she smirked. She gave him a hand with the corsage. "You know, you actually look quite dapper. Sherlock's a lucky man."

"He will be if he gets here on time," he said through gritted teeth.

"About that… Mycroft arranged for a surprise for you, as an apology for not coming to the wedding. If you'll come with me." She beckoned to him slyly with a coy finger, earning a raised eyebrow from John.

"Anthea, I already tried hitting on you about three years ago. Is now really the time to offer a snog? I'm a bit attached."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Watson. Trust me on this one."

The beautiful cathedral was starting to fill up with guests, taking up a decent amount of space in the church. They'd been worried that they'd gotten too big of a space for their intimate gathering, but as it turned out, they had more friends than they originally thought. People Sherlock had helped in past cases wanted to be there for him, which caused Sherlock no end of surprise that people actually appreciated him. The entire Watson clan had even managed to drag itself from all over England to be there for John.

Anthea pulled him into a small room behind the altar, full of altar serving robes and old incense holders. It was a storage room of sorts, crowded and dusty but beautifully lit by sunshine streaming through an old stained-glass window.

"Wait here," she ordered him.

He didn't see a reason to object, so he spent a few quiet minutes alone in the storage room, hoping he hadn't been locked in.

Oh, no. Anthea was in league with Molly. They were locking him in the storage room and sending Molly out there in a dress, and Sherlock would be so annoyed with the whole marriage business that he would just want to get it over with and marry Molly.

He was about the test the door when it opened from the other end, and thank goodness—Sherlock was there.

"Sherlock," he breathed, wrapping his arms around his fiancé's neck and kissing him on the forehead in relief. "I was worried—I thought we weren't supposed to see each other before the wedding?"

"Ridiculous," Sherlock yawned. He gave John a good look-over. "Wow. I don't think I say this nearly enough, John, but you look…well."

"I look 'well'?"

"I mean, nice. Very nice. In that suit."

John cracked up. "It's our wedding day and you're telling me I look nice?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's bloody adorable." John gave Sherlock his own appreciative glance. He was positive it had taken him five minutes to throw on his clothes, but he looked brilliant. It often surprised him that he'd managed to snag such a gorgeous man. Here Sherlock was, looking a bit rumpled and not at all like he cared what he was wearing, but he still looked like a supermodel.

Then he noticed the bright red bowtie Sherlock wore around his neck. "Sherlock…is that…?"

"Is it too much?" Sherlock looked a little embarrassed. "I wasn't sure if it was too soon. He left it behind a year ago after we investigated the case on Mercury 8."

John fingered it lightly with a wistful smile. "I think it's brilliant. Are you ready?"

Sherlock snorted. He supposed that was an answer. "Are you?"

"To be honest? I'm terrified." John sighed. "Is it always this scary?"

"Do you want to elope? I can have us in Venice in three hours."

"Er, tempting as that is, at least 50,000 pounds have gone into this wedding. Let's not muck it up, shall we?"
John was about to open the door when Sherlock grabbed him by the arm. "Marry me."

"Funny, I was just about to…"

"Not what I meant. I mean right now. Before we have to do it in front of everyone. So you won't be nervous."

John crossed his arms. "I'm not nervous. I'm going to be fine."

"Come on, it'll be…what do they say? Fun?" Sherlock took him by the hands. "We'll make it quick. John Watson, will you be my husband?"

"Er, sure. Why not?"

"Good answer. Now ask me."

"Sherlock, this is a bit…"

"John."

"Fine, fine. Will you be my husband?"

"Yes." He pecked him on the cheek and left without a word. John was left dumbfounded in his wake, though he had to admit, he felt the ball of nerves in his stomach untangle a bit.

His phone rang in his pocket with a text.

Admit it. That helped. SH

Oh, all right, you sod. I'll see you at the altar. JW