The Sign of Three, Part 6
Night had fallen and Sherlock and Amelia were slowly waltzing together in the middle of the empty reception area, Sherlock softly humming the tune to 'On The Beautiful Blue Danuba' by Johann Strauss in time with their steps and turns, while the actual band in the reception room played the song. Amelia was smiling widely up at Sherlock, her stocking covered feet gliding along the floor while her heels sat off to the side on the makeshift dance floor, having decided that unless she wished to be crippled for the next week, she should probably take the chance to slip her shoes off and give her feet a break that they very much deserved.
"You dance surprisingly well, Amelia," Sherlock remarked after a long moment, twirling her out and back towards him in one smooth, well practise motion.
She smiled brightly at him, "So do you, William," she said with a wink, making him sigh faintly in exasperation, though there was no real annoyance there, "I'm assuming that you're self taught?"
"Hmm," he hummed in agreement, slowly turning them in a small circle on the spot, "YouTube," he meet her eyes with a playful glimmer in his own, "When one is ignoring the ridiculous number of funny cat and dog videos, it can be quite helpful".
She laughed at that, shaking her head as he broke into a wide smile himself, "Was the waltz the only thing you learnt on there?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He brought them to a stop, not letting go of her hand or dropping his hand from where is was pressed against her lower back, their faces quite close to each other. He eyed her almost apprehensively for a moment, "Do you really want to see?"
Her smile softened and she nodded eagerly, "I would love to," she told him sincerely.
That seemed to be all the encouragement that he needed because he released his hold on and took a few steps away from her, pausing to cast a quick look around the empty room to check that no one was watching, before he raised up onto his tip-toe on one foot and spun himself on the spot in a full-circle pirouette. Amelia's eyes lit up in delight and she immediately started applauding.
"Oh, that's brilliant, Sherlock!" she cheered, still clapping happily as he straightened once more, his pale cheeks slightly flushed and his eyes sparkling with happiness.
He lightly tugged his jacket straight and moved back over to her, "I've always loved to dance," he admitted quietly to her, though she had already known that for several weeks now, "I always hoped the right case would come along and, well…" he trailed off with a small shrug, looking almost embarrassed now.
"You could have been a dancer in another life," she commented, reaching up to gently cup his cheek and make him look back to her, "Who knows? In another life, you could have been famous for your dancing rather than your detective ability".
"And you?" he eyed her closely, seeming to be quite curious, "Surely you still remember something from your ballerina days?"
"Well, I quit when I was twelve, I wanted to focus on my show jumping. But…" she bit her lip and raised her eyebrows at him, looking a little unsure of herself, "I suppose I do remember a few moves…"
"Oh?" a rare cheeky smile crossed his face and a faintly challenging sparkle appeared in his eyes as he leaned towards her.
She straightened herself, narrowing her eyes very slightly, seeing the clear challenge there. If he wanted to play this game, then fine, she was more than happy to play, too. She stepped a few steps away from him and rolled her neck side to side, shaking out her arms to try and loosen her joints up a bit. It was going to be a bit tricky, given the fact that her dress was quite fitted and didn't have much give in the skirt area, but she knew one move that she could still manage, hopefully. Plus, she wasn't wearing proper dance shoes and only had stocking's on, so she would be in danger of slipping across the floor if she wasn't careful.
It had been many, many years since she had last danced like this, so she very dearly hoped that she wouldn't pull anything or find herself tripping over herself. She didn't think she could take Sherlock's smug amusement. Once she was satisfied that she wouldn't end up hurting herself, she turned to face Sherlock and held her arms out on either side of her, like a pirouette, holding her left leg out as far as her dress would allow and began spinning on her right leg in a tight circle, doing pump-turns, before finishing off with a large leap off to the side and turning to bow, crossing one leg behind the other with her feet pointed.
"Ah, Madam Louise would be so proud," she remarked as she straightened, straightening her dress a bit as she looked back up to Sherlock, finding him looking rather impressed, "She was my dance teacher for eight years".
"And you gave up ballet for horse riding?" Sherlock said disapprovingly, clearly not believing that dance and horse riding could be compared.
"Show jumping," she corrected, pointing a firm finger at him, "And yes, I did. I loved horses; still do regardless of my mother's death as a result of them," she shrugged, not wishing to dwell too much on her mother's untimely death right now, "But ballet grew boring. I knew I would never do it professionally and I wanted something exciting. Show jumping seemed like the most logical leap".
"There you are!" a voice suddenly rang through the room, making Amelia and Sherlock both blink slightly and turn to see Janine walked across the room towards them, coming to a stop before them.
"Oh, hello, Janine," Amelia greeted her with a small smile, noticing out of the corner of her eye how Sherlock straightened himself slightly and a small frown that crossed his face. Gone was the playful Holmes that she had seen before, "You caught us just practising a bit of dancing. You and Sherlock will have to dance a minute," her smile widened as Sherlock made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. She moved closer to his side, reaching out to pat his arm, "Come now, Holmes. It's tradition".
"Wonderful," Sherlock grumbled, shooting her a small glare, "More wedding tradition".
"Ignore him," she rolled her eyes and turned back to Janine, who looked rather amused, "He's in a mood".
"Practising, hey?" Janine said curiously, "I've never waltzes before".
Amelia's eyes lit up, turning to Sherlock, "Sherlock can give you a few tips," she told her quickly, ignoring the startled look that Sherlock shot her, apparently not expecting that. She looked back to Janine, "He's an excellent dancer. Go on, Holmes," she lightly nudged Sherlock's side, nodding over towards Janine.
Sherlock sighed loudly, giving Amelia look that told her that he was most certainly not pleased about this development, but he still held out his hand towards Janine to take, "Shall we?" he said to Janine, resigned.
Janine broke into a wide smile and took his offered hand, letting Sherlock sweep her into a slow version of the waltz, while Amelia moved back to lean against the wall beside where her shoes were still sitting, pausing to slip them back on, before straightening to watch Sherlock and Janine dance. She began humming along with the music still echoing down the hallway to them, quite enjoying the melody. Janine had clearly never danced the waltz before, she kept looking down at her feet and she seemed to keep trying to take the lead, but Sherlock would easily deflect her attempts with a well practised turn. Still, after only ten minutes or so, Janine began to improve and stopped trying to lead, through she did accidently step on Sherlock's toes once or twice, earning a tiny grimace of pain from Sherlock that went unnoticed by Janine, who was still watching her feet. But any improvement, even small, was good for a complete novice.
"You're doing great, Janine," Amelia said encouragingly as they danced passed her, "Just remember to lift your head. You're feet will be fine, Sherlock's leading you, you only need follow him".
"Amelia's right," Sherlock agreed, pausing in his counting of steps as Janine lifted her head, his attention focused on something over his dance partners shoulder rather than her face. He obviously still wasn't very pleased about dancing with Janine and Amelia did feel little bad about forcing him into it, but she hadn't stopped to think about it before the words had come blurting out. Still, he would have had to dance with Janine eventually, he might as well try and get used to it when it was just the three of them, "Now, again," he set them off again, leading the dance across the reception room, "One, two, three….der, der, der…ahh, pretty good," he nodded approvingly as, finally, Janine managed to dance properly without looking down or stepping on his toes. He brought them to a stop and released her, taking a step back from her and back over to Amelia, "Just…hold your nerve on your turning".
Janine smiled, looking quite pleased with herself as she reached up to adjust the strapless top of her bridesmaid gown, "Amelia's right," she remarked, looking at Sherlock, "You're a good teacher and a brilliant dancer," she winked playfully, reaching out to lightly nudge Amelia's arm, "Lucky you".
Amelia grinned, looking back to Sherlock, "Oh, I know," she said quietly, trying very hard to resist against the temptation to reach out and take Sherlock's hand, the softening expression on Sherlock's face more than enough.
"I don't suppose there's more Holmes's out there?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock.
"One," Sherlock said with an amused twitch of his lips, imagining what Mycroft's reaction would be like. It was quite tempting to try and get Amelia to organise a blind date between the two of them…though, Mycroft would never be foolish enough to fall for something like that. Still, it was still rather amusing to picture his brother forced to endure a dinner with Janine, trying to find a way to polity escape.
"Holmes," Amelia scolded lightly, having a pretty good idea just what he was thinking. She shook her head at him and turned back to Janine with a small smile, "I'm afraid he really wouldn't be your type…" she paused, frowning slightly, "Nor would you be his. In fact, I don't think he even has a type".
"Pity," Janine said jokingly, not really upset about it.
"Well…" John's voice sounded through the room as the three of them looked up to see him walking through the doorway, heading over toward them, "Glad to see you've pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot at my wedding," he lightly clapped Sherlock on his back as he reached them.
"It was only one murderer," Amelia reminded him, amused.
"One nearly murderer," Sherlock added with an eye roll, shaking his head in exasperation as he glanced at Amelia and Janine, "Loves to exaggerate. You should try living with him".
"Drama queen," the brunet muttered to John, making him laugh before he quickly tried stifling it as Sherlock narrowed his eyes suspiciously on them both. She smiled innocently at him, only making him even more suspicious.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade called as he pushed the side door open, stepping into view as the four of them looked over to him, "Got him for you," he pointed back out through the doorway.
Sherlock clapped his hands together happily as Amelia broke into a large smile, watching as the photographer walked into the room as Lestrade closed the door behind him, his camera hanging around his neck still.
"Ah, the photographer," Sherlock said brightly, the detectives stepping over towards the man, "Excellent," he glanced back to Lestrade, "Thank you".
"I don't suppose we could see your camera?" Amelia asked pleasantly, flashing the man a friendly smile and gesturing to the large camera dangling around his neck, "We'll be very, very careful, I assure you," she added, knowing how protective photographers could be over their equipment.
"Er…" the photographer hesitated, shying away from her hand as he eyed them nervously, more nervous then he really ought to be. His camera wasn't that expensive and was at least a few years old, so his nerves were about something else. Slowly, he pulled the camera off over his head and handed it over to Amelia, trying hard to playoff his previous nervousness with a little smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "What's this about?" he glanced between Sherlock and Amelia, casting Lestrade a quick look, laughing faintly, "I was halfway home!"
"You should have driven faster," Sherlock said lightly, peering over Amelia's arm as she started the camera up and began flicking through the pictures of the wedding. He smiled slightly, watching the small screen, "Ah, yes. Yes, very good. There, you see?" his smile widened, raising his eyebrows slightly as a picture appeared on the screen of him and Amelia, sitting together at the head table, quite closely as he seemed to be smiling as Amelia was caught mid-laugh. He glanced at the side of Amelia's face, "Perfect".
"Indeed," Amelia agreed, nodding, knowing that he was talking more about the case then the actual picture, even though it was a wonderful picture of the two of them. She would have to make a mental note to find a picture frame for it when they got a copy; she would have to put it up somewhere in Baker Street, maybe even give a copy to Mr and Mrs Holmes. They would love it.
"What's perfect?" Lestrade questioned, looking between them, "You gonna tell us?"
Amelia shrugged, looking up to eye the photographer as, without taking her eyes off him, she held the camera out for Lestrade, "See for yourself," she told him nonchalantly, "Tell us what you see…or rather, what you don't see".
"Um, look for what?" John frowned slightly in confusion, moving to stand beside Lestrade as he took the camera, looking at the pictures, Janine joining them to see, too. It was a nice picture of Sherlock and Amelia, but he still didn't understand what they were going on about. He looked back up to Sherlock and Amelia, pointing back to the camera, "Is the murderer in these photographs?"
"As Amelia said, it's not what's in the photographs, it's what's not in them," Sherlock replied, clasping his hands behind his back, shrugging, "Not in any of them".
"Think about it," Amelia urged them, still watching the photographer closely, rather enjoying watching the panic starting to rise in his eyes as he seemed to start to realise that they knew, they knew what he had done and who he was. It was over for him, "What don't you ever see in wedding photos? It really is quite easy".
"Sherlock?" John sighed loudly, giving them an exasperated look, "Amelia? The showing-off thing: we've discussed it before. Both of you," he gave them both a pointed look, because Amelia really could be just as bad as Sherlock, even in subtle ways.
"Yes, at length," she muttered with a small huff, resisting the urge to call him a spoil-sport. She just couldn't help it, Sherlock would show-off and it would end up leading to her showing-off. She blamed Sherlock, of course.
Sherlock took a deep breath, "There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph," he began to explain to them, "But can go anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around with him if he likes, and you never even see his face," he stepped closer to the photographer, his eyes moving down to rest on his hands, "You only ever see…" he suddenly grabbed the man's hand and, from behind his back, pulled out a set of handcuffs and cuffed his wrist, attaching the second cuff to a luggage trolley beside the stunned man. John and Lestrade looked up in surprise, having been focused on the camera to see Sherlock smirking rather smugly, "The camera," he finished, eyeing the man.
"What are you doing?" the photographer demanded, staring at Sherlock, "What is this?"
"Did you seriously think we wouldn't look into every single guest attending the wedding?" Amelia raised her eyebrows at the man, making his head snap around to her. She crossed her arms across her chest, "But not just the guests, but the staff, too. In our line of work, it would be foolish not to take care to ensure everything goes smoothly, so when our original photographer that Sherlock and I personally looked into was replaced by you, Jonathan Small, we grew suspicious, especially after the attempted murder," she gave him a cold smile, "Slow acting deaths aren't always the best way to kill someone".
Sherlock reached into his pocket and withdrew is phone, activating it and holding it up for John, Lestrade, and Janine to see, "Quite so," he nodded to Amelia, giving the other's a chance to see the information that they had found on his phone screen, "It would seem that today's substitute wedding photographer is also our Mayfly Man," he lowered his phone and turned back to face Small, who was staring back at them wide eyes, still seeming to be trying to play his innocent act, "His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion," he informed the other three as they listened closely. Finally, Small dropped his act, his expression growing hard as he glared back at them, "Jonny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto's staff, found what he needed, an invitation to a wedding".
"He knew it would be his one chance to get at Sholto in public," Amelia nodded, glancing over at John to see him staring at Small, "He knew that Sholto would have to make an appearance at his old, dear friend's wedding and that it would be possibly his only shot at getting his revenge, so he set to work, came up with his plan and even rehearsed it. He needed to make sure that his plan would work, right down to the last detail, what did it matter to him if a man that had nothing to do with his brother's death ended up dead if he got his revenge in the end?" her eyes narrowed angrily on Small, truly appalled by the idea that Small was so willing to kill someone who had nothing to do with his would be victim.
Sherlock reached out and placed a hand on Amelia's lower back, not taking his eyes off Small, "I imagine that you would have had your chance of stabbing Sholto during the group photos, while you positioned people," he commented lightly, "Just like with Bainbridge, you stabbed him through his belt, just as you had rehearsed," he raised his eyebrows at Small, who simply blinked calmly back at them, "Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac, though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good," he admitted, exchanging a quick look with Amelia, who nodded in agreement. He turned and tossed his phone over to Lestrade, who luckily managed to catch it, "Everything you need's on that," he glanced back across to Small, "You probably ought to…arrest him or something".
Lestrade nodded absently as he looked down at the phone, just as Mary appeared in the doorway and caught sight of John, hurrying into the room to join them. Amelia cleared her throat and leaned closer to Sherlock, an eyebrow raised, "You carry handcuffs around with you?" she asked quietly, smirking slyly.
Sherlock gave her a mildly disapproving look which was slightly ruined by the very faint colouring high in his cheeks, "Not now, Amelia," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Her smirk widen, turning into a full-blown grin, dropping her voice into a whisper, "Hmm, I think I might like it, William".
He made a suspicious noise in his throat, almost like he had just chocked on his own saliva as his blush turned an even brighter and more obvious shade, earning a few curious looks from those standing around them. He cleared his throat hastily and shifted slightly on the spot, narrowing his eyes on her as she simply grinned widely, rather smug, "Behave," he hissed, shooting Lestrade and Janine a look that made them both quickly look away.
"Maybe you ought to make me…or I could make you, if you would prefer…"
"Oh, dear Lord…" he groaned, closing his eyes tightly in exasperation and embarrassment, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else on the planet then there.
"Come on, quick!" Mary said brightly as she held out her hand to John, neither of them seeming to be paying the slightest bit of attention to the rather pink faced Sherlock and smirking Amelia. She blinked slightly as she caught sight of Small handcuffed to the luggage trolley, John still watching the man closely.
Amelia shook her head, patting Sherlock's hand as she decided that perhaps it really wasn't the time to be stirring Sherlock up, but it really had been just too good to pass up, "Don't worry, Holmes, I'm only teasing," she assured him quietly, giving him a little smile as he opened his eyes to glare at her, clearly still quite suspicious and embarrassed, judging by the faint tinge of pink in his cheeks.
"It's not me you should be arresting, Mr Holmes," Small told him, his eyes fixed on Sherlock, his voice drawing Sherlock and Amelia's attention back to him.
"Oh, I don't do the arresting," Sherlock replied pleasantly, seeming to be taking a leaf out of Amelia's book, before nodding over towards Lestrade, "I just farm that out," he gave Small a sarcastic smile.
"Sholto, he's the killer, not me. I should have killed him quicker," he broke into a manic grin, looking quite insane for a moment. It was almost unnerving…or it would have been, had Amelia not seen the very same glint in Small's eyes in her brother's for half her life. Small's smile faded and he shook his head regretfully, closing his eyes briefly, "I shouldn't have tried to be clever".
"You should have driven faster," Sherlock said softly again, his expression growing colder. Without taking his eyes off Small, he held out his elbow towards Amelia, who smiled faintly and linked her arm through his, before linking her other arm with Janine's, surprising the woman. Together, the three of them strolled out of the room, leaving Lestrade to deal with Small as John and Mary followed close behind them. The night wasn't over yet, there was still a few more things that needed to be done yet.
…
Sherlock and Amelia stood on the middle of a small stage that had been setup at the back of the reception room, the lights now dimmed and the room lit mostly by the gentle glow of candles around the room, the detectives playing together on their violin's the song that they had spent the past several weeks composing just for John and Mary's first dance together. The rest of the guests had formed a circle before the stage after the tables and chairs had all been removed from the room, watching from the edges as John and Mary began their first waltz together as man and wife, smiling widely at one another as they danced.
Amelia smiled broadly as she played the song, watching the couple dance, not needing to see the sheet music to play. It truly was magical to be able to witness as John and Mary dance together for the first time, happily married and with so much to look forward to in the months and years to come. She honestly couldn't have been more delighted for the two of them, she still recalled how many times she had smiled as John introduced her and Sherlock to his latest girlfriend, all the while knowing that the relationship would probably be over by the end of the week, just like with all his other girlfriends since she had first meet him. But here she was, at John's wedding, playing the song that she and Sherlock had composed for him and his wife. It was enough to make tears spring up in her eyes, but she desperately tried to hold them back and focus on playing the song and staying in time with Sherlock's playing.
Slowly, the song came to an end; John gently dipped Mary, making her gasp before laughing as everyone around the room began applauding and cheering, John kissing his wife. Amelia and Sherlock smiled and lowered their instruments, Amelia carefully clapping along with the rest of the room before reaching up to try and wipe a stray tear away before it could smudge her makeup. She caught Sherlock's eye and he shook his head at her.
"You truly are a sentimentalist, Amelia," he said over the clapping and cheers, having to edge closer to her so that she could hear.
She grinned at him, winking, "Just a part of my charm, Holmes," she said cheekily, moving to carefully sit her violin aside in its open case on the stage floor behind her, before straightening and moving back to Sherlock, reaching across to pick up his boutonniere that he had left sitting on the music stand, moving to clip it back onto his lapel. She smothered his lapels and shoulders, meeting his eyes, her heels making her the same height as him, "One more speech and you're done," she reminded him, ignoring the cheers and clapping still going on, giving him a gentle smile, "You've been amazing all evening, Sherlock, I am so proud of you".
Sherlock's expression softened very slightly, looking almost touched for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly and reached out to lightly touch her elbow, as if trying to express to her his appreciation without saying it openly. He gave her a nod before he turned back to face the front of the stage and the microphone that was set up. John and Mary turned towards the stage, John waving up to them with a wide smile before pausing to sneak another quick kiss from Mary, the rest of the guests all growing silent and also turning to give their attention to the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began as the clapping started to die down, all eyes back on him, "Just, er, one last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologise for earlier. A crisis arose and was dealt with," he took a deep breath, glancing back to Amelia as she stood slightly behind him, off to the left of the stage, earning a small little smile in return. He gave her a small nod and turned back to the microphone, "More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. I've never made a vow in my life, and after tonight I'm unlikely to make one again…" John threw him a pointed look over towards Amelia, which he swiftly pretended not to notice, carrying on with the rest of his closing speech. It was bad enough his mother seemed to have become obsessed with marriage, let alone John giving him little pointed looks like that, "So, here in front of you all, my first and last vow," he focused on John and Mary, "Mary and John: whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there, always, for all three of you".
Amelia's eyes widened in horror as John and Mary blinked, staring back up at Sherlock, startled, while Sherlock looked quite shocked himself, apparently not having meant for that to slip out during his speech. She hurried forward and leaned close to the microphone, fixing a very fake smile onto her lips, "That…he meant to say the two of you!" she told them, almost frantic as she elbowed Sherlock's side a little harder then she meant to, "Both of you," she laughed, the sound horribly high pitched and borderline hysterical, quickly clearing her throat, "He just…got a little confused with all the candle light and miscounted, plus, he's had a few glasses. Right, Holmes?" she looked quickly back to Sherlock, desperately hoping that Mary and John would buy it, but she doubted it. This was so not the way that they should have found out.
"Yes," Sherlock agreed, nodding a little too quickly to be believable, rubbing his side slightly from where she had elbowed him. He gave the very confused couple a forced smile, while Mary glanced back to John, looking a little worried, "I just miscounted, that's all," he shifted slightly on the spot and moved closer to the microphone, trying to move on, "Anyway, it's time for dancing!" he glanced back over his shoulder to the DJ that was set up at the back of the stage, "Play the music again, please, thank you," he sighed in relief as the lights dimmed even more and brightly coloured strobe lighting began flashing around the dance floor, while fast pace music began beating through the room, "Okay, everybody, just dance!" he called over the music, trying to urge people onto the dance floor with his hands, , "Don't be shy!"
Amelia grabbed his arm, lightly tugging him over to the edge of the stage as people, thankfully, started taking to the dance floor, most seeming not to have noticed his little slip, Mary and John still looking quite confused as they stood in the middle of the floor, "Come on, Holmes," she muttered in his ear, knowing that they needed to explain themselves.
They stepped down from the stage and weaved their way through the dancing people towards the couple, "Sorry," Sherlock said to them over the music as they neared them, "That was one more deduction than I was really expecting".
"'Deduction?'" Mary repeated, staring back at him with wide eyes.
Amelia and Sherlock exchanged a quick look, before Amelia sighed and turned back to Mary, her expression softening, "Mary, you've been eating more than usual lately," she said gently, giving her a slightly apologetic look, hoping that she wouldn't end up getting offended, "And your taste has also changed. That wine you picked for the wedding that you positively adored a month back, only to find that you hated it today," she bit her lip, glancing at John and back to Mary, "You were also feeling quite queasy this morning and was even ill, but assumed it was just wedding nerves," she gave her a little smile, "And then when I asked you if you were sure your were alright, you snapped at me, which really isn't like you, Mary".
"All the signs are there," Sherlock looked between John and Mary.
"'The signs,'" Mary frowned.
He hesitated slightly and looked to Amelia, who looked as if she was struggling not to just blurt it out, and then glanced across to John, "The signs of three," he eventually replied, turning back to Mary, his eyes flickering pointedly down to her stomach.
"What?" she gasped, her mouth falling open in shock.
"Mary…" Amelia gave her a broad smile, reaching out to comfortingly rest her hand on her shoulder, "I really do think that you should take a pregnancy test before you go away on you honeymoon".
John exhaled sharply and lowered his head, almost doubled over, looking almost close to fainting, while Mary broke into a delighted smile.
"Well…th…the statistics for the first trimester are…" Sherlock started to explain, looking a little awkward. Apparently accidently letting slip that your friends were pregnant on their wedding day was just a little bit out of his comfort zone.
"Shut up," John cut across him as he straightened, his expression firm, making Sherlock freeze in the middle of forming a word. He held up his fingers, staring somewhere over Amelia's shoulder as Sherlock waited, "Just…shut up".
"Sorry," he said a little sheepishly, closing his mouth. He really hadn't meant for it to slip out like that.
"It was an easy mistake to make, Holmes," Amelia muttered to him, patting his arm sympathetically, knowing that he did actually feel a bit guilty about it. She was actually quite surprised that she hadn't let anything slip throughout the night; she supposed that not having to do any speeches and sitting down the table from John and Mary had helped a great deal in preventing her from saying anything.
John shook his head, looking quite annoyed, though Amelia suspected that it was aimed more towards himself then Sherlock, "How did they notice before me?" he turned to Mary, "I'm a bloody doctor".
"I'm a woman," Amelia shrugged, unable to resist the slightly smug little smirk from crossing her face.
"It's your day off," Sherlock reminded John, not looking the slightest bit concerned.
"It's your day off!" John exclaimed, turning back onto them, starting to look a little frantic now.
"Easy, now," the brunet tried calming him, giving him a stern look as she quickly cast her eyes back around the dance floor, though they had been thankfully ignored by most of the dancers surrounding them. She looked back to John, her expression softening, "Just stop panicking…"
"I'm not panicking!" he insisted at once, making her laugh and give him a pointed look. He was starting to sound like a child now.
"I'm pregnant," Mary breathed, her eyes wide, "I'm panicking".
"Don't panic," Sherlock told them calmly, "None of you panic," he back and forth between the couple as they looked down at the floor, both looking quite shocked and worried, "Absolutely no reason to panic".
John's head snapped back up to him, "Oh, and you'd know, of course?" he raised his eyebrows.
"Yes, I would," he nodded as Amelia glanced at him curiously, "You're already the best parents in the world. Look at all the practice you've had!"
"What practice?" he asked, confused.
Amelia laughed and pointedly linked her arm through Sherlock's, looking back to John with her eyebrows raised.
"Well, you're hardly gonna need me around now that you've got a real baby on the way," Sherlock said lightly, looking directly at John.
John stared back at him for a long moment before Sherlock broke into a wide smile, which John very quickly returned, looking completely delighted now that the shock seemed to have worn off. He laughed and clapped Sherlock on his back, before lowering his arm, just in time for Amelia to lean forward and throw her arms around him a tight hug, grinning broadly, so very happy for both John and Mary. She released him after a moment and turned to Mary, kissing her cheek before laughing apologetically as she quickly used her thumb to wipe the lipstick mark away, moving back to Sherlock's side as they watched John turn to his smiling wife, still laughing as he wrapped his arm around her waist.
"You all right?" John asked her, a little breathless from all the laughing.
"Yeah," Mary nodded, still looking a little dazed over the whole thing.
Amelia glanced at Sherlock to see his smile slowly dimming as he looked at the happy couple, growing slightly sad. If he had thought that John getting married would change things, than just what must he think about them having a baby? She couldn't blame him for feeling like it was the end of an era because, in a way, it was. John was going to be a dad and his main focus would have to be his child, which was exactly how it was supposed to be, but that didn't mean that she didn't feel a little sad to think that things would be changing. A baby changed everything, it made things more complicated and harder, it was one of the reasons for why she hadn't really wanted to have children when she was younger, she hadn't wanted that burden on her career, which had placed a strain on her yearlong marriage. But if anyone could do it, it would be John and Mary, and she and Sherlock (she very dearly hoped so, anyway) would always be there to help them. She gave Sherlock a small smile and discreetly placed her hand on his arm, squeezing his arm through the fabric of his morning coat as she turned back to John and Mary.
"You two ought to go and dance," she told them, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had fallen over the small group, the music still beating loudly. She gave them a broad smile, hoping to try and give Sherlock a chance to compose himself before they noticed his shift in mood.
"Mm?" John blinked, looking back to her in confusion.
"Both of you, now, go dance," Sherlock said quickly, glancing at Amelia, knowing exactly what she was trying to do and feeling quite grateful for it, "We can't just stand here. People will wonder what we're talking about".
"Right," he nodded slowly, though he did look a little stunned and made no move to leave.
Mary sniffed, her eyes looking quite watery as reached out to take John's hand, "Come on, husband," she said tearfully, "Let's go".
"This isn't the waltz, is it?" he pointed over his shoulder, making her laugh and shake her head fondly.
"Don't worry, Mary, Amelia and I have been tutoring him" Sherlock assured her, half joking as Amelia nodded, laughing faintly at the memory. Poor John, he wasn't a natural dancer and seeing him dancing with Sherlock was truly one of the funniest sights she had seen all year, she was planning to give the recording to everyone as a part of her Christmas present, with a little bit of editing on her part, such as with a large pink love heart forming around the two of them while they danced in the living room of Baker Street, right before John caught her recording and broke off the dance to try and get her phone so that he could delete it. Thank God she hadn't been wearing heels at the time.
"They did, you know," John told Mary as they slowly began to move away from the detectives, heading further out into the middle of the dance floor, "Baker Street, behind closed curtains," he stepped closer to Mary as she moved her hand up to rest on his shoulder, entwining her right hand with John's left hand, looking highly amused by her husband's story, "Mrs Hudson came in one time," he grinned, "Don't know how those rumours started!"
Mary laughed as he sniggered as the two of them moved further off into the crowd of people already dancing, swaying together even though the song wasn't really meant for a waltz. Mary looked over John's shoulder to them and gave them a soft smile, mouthing, 'Thank you,' Sherlock and Amelia happily giving her a little smile and nod in return.
Amelia glanced at Sherlock and sighed slightly as she noticed his smile slip from his face, his expression growing distant as he watched distractedly as the rest of the guests danced together. Even Janine had found herself someone, the same sci-fi fan who Sherlock had pointed out to her during his speech, the man's girlfriend notably missing. Amelia reached out to take his hand, making him blink and look back to her.
"Let's go outside for a moment," she called over the music, giving him a gentle smile.
Sherlock nodded and lightly tugged her back over towards the stage, stepping up onto it to pick up the sheet music still pinned to the music stand. He carefully folded the paper up and slipped it into its envelope that had, 'Dr. and Mrs Watson' scribbled across it in black pen in his handwriting, their joint wedding present to the happy couple. They headed back to the top table to grab their coats, Sherlock popping the back of his collar up as Amelia shook her head fondly at him, before they passed Molly and Tom dancing together with Mrs Hudson as they slipped unnoticed out of the doors and into the small gardened area outside.
Amelia wrapped her arms closer around herself, her trench coat already warming her up in the chill of the night air, though it did nothing for her legs that were only covered by her stockings. She supposed that she probably ought to be used to the cold, considering that she was Irish, but in her defence, she had spent more time in England then in her own native home. Still, you would have thought that she would be able to bear the cold much better. She released a breath, watching as it turned into a puff of white mist into the air and floated away, before she glanced across to Sherlock as he stood beside her, looking up at the night sky.
"Is this when you try to tell me that nothing's going to change?" Sherlock said after a moment, breaking the silence.
She eyed the side of his face, "No," she shook her head, sighing, "A baby changes everything…or so I've heard," she looked away from him and out across the darkened garden, "Still, nothing can last forever and this is a good thing. Wonderful, actually. John and Mary are going to be wonderful parents".
"I expect so".
She looked back to him and moved closer to him until their arms were touching, she was even the same height as him in her heels, "It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?" she said quietly, earning a slightly startled look from him, which she pretended not to notice, "I have to admit, even I'm a little scared by how fast everything seems to be moving, but it couldn't stay like it was two years ago. John moved on, just as he was supposed to, and now you and I just have to get used to the changes that come with that".
He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing, "I'm not afraid".
"No?" she said ideally, clearly not believing him as she looked back to him, meeting his eyes, "Well, regardless, I do hope you know that no matter what, you and me and, yes, John, will always be friends. Not even a wedding or baby could ever change that".
"I didn't think it would," he sniffed, though she did notice that he was less tense then he was when they first stepped out from the reception room and his expression seemed to have lightened slightly.
She smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling quite pleased with herself. Sherlock really was quite easy, he liked to hide his true feelings beneath his usual facade, but she could always see passed the act and see that he truly was feeling quite upset over the idea of possibly losing John. He might have her, but he and John had a different type of friendship, one that wasn't also mixed up with romance, which she felt was a very important thing for them to both have. He and John could understand each other in a way that she doubted that she could, given their genders and the fact that women and men did think and feel differently. Sherlock got something from his friendship with John that he couldn't get from her, and then there was also the fact that he didn't exactly find it easy to make friends. The loss of one friend was felt so much more painfully for him, especially when it was someone as close to Sherlock as John was, someone who accepted him and didn't expect him to be any different from who he already was.
"I see what you did there," Sherlock interrupted her thoughts, eyeing her closely, but she could already tell that he wasn't annoyed, nor was he still dwelling over everything with John.
"I haven't got a clue what you're talking about, Holmes. All those glasses of champagne must be going straight to that curly head of yours".
"Hardly," he scoffed, turning his eyes back up to the night sky.
She laughed, but her laughter quickly died as she watched him for a moment, considering whether or not she really should bring it up, when she decided that she might as well, "Sherlock…" she began slowly, "What does 'Redbeard' mean?"
Sherlock looked surprised for a moment, giving her a long look, "Nothing of importance," he eventually replied.
"Liar," she accused at once, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she went on, her expression softening, not wishing to upset him when he was already in a bit of a state over everything else.
He was silent for a long time, so long that she actually thought that he wasn't going to say anything, when he released a long breath and looked back out over the garden, "Redbeard was my dog when I was a child," he told her, his voice quite low, forcing her to have to strain to hear it over the sound of the music blaring inside the reception room, "Occasionally, Mycroft likes to mention my…attachment".
"Mycroft really is a rubbish big brother, isn't he?"
Sherlock laughed, looking back to her, his expression warm, "Yet another thing we have in common, it would seem," he remarked lightly.
Amelia smiled and reached down to take his hand, ignoring how cold his fingers were. She doubted hers felt much better, "I suspected you were a dog lover," she admitted, looking at him curiously, "There has to be more to the story then that, though".
The warmth faded and he shrugged, looking away again, "Redbeard died, that's it".
"Oh, Holmes, I'm so sorry. The loss of a pet, especially for a child, is one of the most horrible things".
"Why are you apologising?" he frowned at her, actually seeming to be confused. It was hardly shocking that the dog had died; it was almost thirty years ago.
She looked back to him, "Because it clearly still has an impact upon you, otherwise Mycroft wouldn't have mentioned it," she looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, "Is that really the whole story?"
"Redbeard was there one day, gone the next. I was very young and no doubt I've deleted the memories. There hardly relevant".
"I beg to differ and I sincerely doubt if even you could delete something like that from your own memories, but clearly you're uncomfortable with the topic, so I'll drop it".
Sherlock was silent for a long moment, when he suddenly turned towards her, "It occurs to me that we haven't danced properly yet," he said, surprising her quite a bit as he slipped his arm around her waist.
Amelia quickly moved to rest her hand on his shoulder, breaking into a broad smile at the very unexpected gesture on his part, "It occurs to me, too," she commented lightly, letting him move them in a slow waltz, the music slower than the last song, but still not quite slow enough for a waltz. She laughed as he spun her out suddenly, apparently deciding to speed up the dance more and spinning her back towards him, before dipping her backwards before she could even blink. He pulled her back up abruptly, smirking at her as he slipped back into the slow swaying of before, "Show-off," she shook her head, feeling slightly breathless now.
He smirked, settling them into a gentle swaying on the spot, "I was thinking…" he began hastily, looking at something over her shoulder, and Amelia couldn't help finding the slight pink tinge to his cheeks to be rather curious, "Perhaps I should go back to London…" Amelia frowned and went to open her mouth to try and protest, when he continued quickly, "Or I could stay here".
"Of course you can," she nodded, giving him a slightly puzzled look, wondering what of Earth he was going on about. He wasn't making sense to her, "I thought that was the idea in the first place. Mary booked us a room; I even brought an overnight bag. We'll have to share the bed, of course, but that's hardly anything to be fussed about for us, is it?"
"You don't understand," he sighed, looking slightly frustrated and the pink in his cheeks seemed to be growing brighter and brighter. He stopped swaying them, but made no move to let her go, "I could stay here, with you".
Amelia frowned deeply, still feeling completely lost, "Isn't that what we're already doing?"
"Amelia, we've been together for six months now…" he said through gritted teeth, looking as if it was taking all over his will power to try and get the words out.
She stared at him, mentally running over everything he had said to her, until she thought that she might have some idea of just where he was trying to go with all of this, "Sherlock," she said quietly, "When you say that you want to stay here with me, you mean…" she cleared her throat, wondering why on Earth she was feeling embarrassed by this when she was hardly inexperienced when it came to this sort of thing, "Well, you mean…that you want to go to the next stage in our relationship?"
Sherlock was blushing more then she had ever seen or thought him capable of and he abruptly released her, but when he did speak, his voice was steady and he looked at her directly, "Yes".
Amelia blinked, feeling quite shocked. This was certainly not what she expected would happen, not in the slightest, "Are you serious?" she asked, unable to stop herself.
He rolled his eyes at her, some of his usual impatiens and exasperation returning, "Of course".
"How much have you had to drink?"
"Nothing".
"Right…" she nodded slowly, grateful when she felt her face start to cool down, though she did wish that her heart rate would slow down and that some of the shock would fade. To be fair, it had been quite some time since anyone had suggested something like that and she really hadn't imagined that it would be Sherlock, of all people, who would be suggesting it right now, at John and Mary's wedding. She took a deep breath and swallowed, looking back to his face as he carefully observed her, "Let's get a drink first, shall we?" she gave him a soft smile and leaned in to kiss him, drawing back with a teasing smirk, "Then, maybe, we'll see where this very long night takes us".
He raised his eyebrows at her, most of the pink now having disappeared from his own cheeks as he offered her his hand, which she happily took, together stepping back into the reception room in search for the bar. The night was still very young, after all, who knows just what else it might have in store for them?
So…have Sherlock and Amelia really consummated their relationship? Quite possibly. It wasn't exactly the most romantic way to go about it, either. I do hope that it didn't seem to be out of character for Sherlock, I tried to make it clear just how awkward over the whole thing he was, but it's quite hard to try and imagine how something like that might come up without seeing anything remotely similar in the show happening. Next chapter, drastic changes have happened since we last saw our detective, Amelia isn't happy with Mycroft, and John might not be suited to domestic bliss. I hope you liked it, tell me what you thought. Please review :)