I knew the swelling word count couldn't last forever. Don't worry, this chapter is just as long a 'normal' before the two extra long chapters, and there may be more 'long' chapters. I don't know; we'll just have to find out together. ^_^

Thank you very much to oatniel, TheTruthInYourEyes, SeverusDmitri18, JGHB, birdie7272, The Lord Writer, Agar Loki, 8of9, Zaryin, Akochan97, LongLostFaxLover, reflectiveless, ENTWolf, Drunken Strawberries, Jaa-Ne, jenpix, HarmonyLover, snapletonius, Guest 1, Guest 2, dana-san, TsunamiFN, orchadork56, SakuraBlossom58, and all those who have favorited/followed this story.

I would also like to offer heartfelt thanks to my Beta, Helena Chauby, and to Lady of Clunn for her Britpicking.

And, naturally, I owe thanks to my flatmate, sounding board, and own personal Sherlock, Geoff.

Man, last chapter got one heck of a response, and it makes me really happy to know you are all following along and enjoying the story. I know I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger last time so I won't keep you anymore; enjoy:

Chapter 13: A Promise

"Sherlock," John breathed, his voice shaking, "I...I can't do this..."

Sherlock closed his eyes, and leaned his forehead gently against John's; a bitter cold feeling spread through his chest. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of. He'd pushed, and pushed, and made John so uncomfortable, that he was just this side of a panic attack. Sherlock had never made a habit of apologising to people before John, but then again, John was an exception for Sherlock on so many things...

"I'm sorry, John," he whispered, his breath ghosting over John's face, "I knew this would make you uncomfortable I...I never should have asked you to be a part of this ruse." Sherlock leaned back a bit and opened his eyes, still holding John's head in his hands. The ruse was still the best way to crack this case, and John had been an easy choice because of the feelings Sherlock already had for him...too easy. It would've been more logical to choose someone he wasn't actually in love with, someone from the homeless network who could get free showers, food and clothing for a bit-anyone but the one person he never wanted to do without. Then John wouldn't have been in danger from the killer, wouldn't be having a meltdown in his arms, wouldn't be so uncomfortable that he'd be in danger of leaving 221B...

Sherlock swallowed, caressing the side of John's face before he could stop himself. "You've always taken offense when other people thought you might be gay. I know that was more about valuing your privacy than anything else...but you're still straight. I might not pay attention to social mores most of the time, but I know this would be a difficult ruse for someone who was gay or bisexual to begin with... The last thing I wanted was for this to...to damage our relationship. That's why I asked for your cooperation first, but I shouldn't have even done that. You're too good a person to say no...no matter how uncomfortable you might be..." He really shouldn't be caressing John's face like this, but Sherlock couldn't seem to stop himself. "I'm sorry, John."

John's eyes were wide with shock. Sherlock thought he was uncomfortable? Sherlock had missed John's attraction to him? Much to the younger man's chagrin, Sherlock had missed things from time to time, like Harry being John's sister. Had...had Sherlock mistaken John's signs of attraction as simple reactions to the things they did together? Reactions he thought made John uncomfortable... Well, John was uncomfortable, but only because he didn't want to lose his friendship with Sherlock. Had Sherlock been worried about the same thing all along?

"Sherlock," John began, tightening his grip on Sherlock's waist so that he couldn't easily pull away, "that's not it." Sherlock started, and his eyes went wide, but he made no move to interrupt his blogger. "I.." John looked down for a moment before Sherlock's hands on his face forced him to meet Sherlock's eyes again. John took a breath. If there was a way to fix this...he had to do it. "You told me very early on that relationships weren't 'your area', that you were married to your work... I didn't want you to misinterpret what was happening, my reactions, I didn't want that to damage our relationship or your trust in me." What John had actually been worried about was Sherlock getting the right impression about John's feelings for him. But, if Sherlock thought John's reactions were just biology, it offered John a viable explanation that Sherlock would be comfortable with. John hated lying to Sherlock but, if there was any way, no matter how painful, to keep Sherlock in his life... John would do it. He hadn't needed Sherlock's fall to teach him that a life with Sherlock in it was better than any life without him.

Sherlock studied John's face for a long moment, watching his eyes dilate, feeling his pulse return to a more normal rhythm, and his breathing start to slow. He'd seen John react physically to his presence before, but that was expected. That was biology. They'd been living together as a couple for over a month. John had been worried that Sherlock would confuse these physical indicators as signs of emotional attraction as well? John was worried about Sherlock's reaction? ...John really was a better person than Sherlock ever deserved. John had pushed his own discomfort aside because of the case. It really shouldn't have surprised Sherlock. John was a soldier, and a doctor; he always did what needed doing.

"John," Sherlock began, fighting a groan when John licked his lips unconsciously. That nervous habit was going to be the end of him one day, but, right now, he had to focus. "I told you from the beginning that biology would factor into this." Sherlock's moved his hand downward and ran his thumb over John's lips causing them to part. John's breath hitched and his pupils dilated even further, almost resembling eclipsed moons. "If you didn't have a reaction, I'd be concerned. It's just biology, John, it's how you're meant to react. It doesn't have to mean anything other than that. This is exactly why I asked your permission," and it was...mostly, "I didn't want you to read too much into your own reactions...or mine."

Sherlock knew he was shutting the door on something important; the possibility of John interpreting his reactions correctly. At the same time, he was preserving something more important; his relationship with John. Three years without John, taking down Moriarty's network...that had come closer to killing him than the drugs ever had. He wasn't really losing anything anyway; nothing good could have come from John correctly interpreting his feelings... The pain and the doubt involved were of no consequence; he needed John by his side, and that could only be as friends...

John closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, concentrating on the feel of Sherlock's fingers on his face. This...this was for the best. He was reconciled to his strong attraction to Sherlock, but it couldn't be anything more than that. There was no point, no chance...it wasn't even worth exploring. He would get to keep his friend, and indulge in his feelings for a short while. Nothing to complain about. If anything, he was lucky. It was a taste of both worlds, friend and lover, and it was as much as he could ever expect.

Opening his eyes, John stared into Sherlock concerned blue-grey gaze. "You're okay with this then?"

Sherlock's lips quirked in a small smile. "More than okay," Sherlock moved his hand to rest lightly on John' shoulder, his other still caressing John's face, "Are you okay with this? I don't want you to become upset again. If you have any doubts, I'll put an end to this wedding, no problem."

John flushed. Sherlock was so concerned about John's feelings, that he hadn't even mentioned the case. John knew pulling out of the wedding at this point could ruin their chances of stopping the killer before he struck again... He didn't want anyone else to die, he didn't want to ruin Sherlock's efforts on the case, and...John wasn't quite ready to give up this new way of interacting with Sherlock. "I am. As long as it doesn't risk our friendship, I'm with you."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John. "Risking our lives is fine, but risking our friendship is unacceptable?"

John chuckled, leaning his forehead against Sherlock's once more. "I think risking our lives is in the job description." John hesitated for a moment, before stepping back to look at Sherlock intently, their arms still around each other. "Are you sure it won't bother you to see my...reactions to you?" He was not blushing; he was a doctor for God's sake.

Sherlock smirked at John and murmured, "No," in that same sultry tone from long ago when he'd 'forgotten' his pants. John felt his heart jump slightly. 'No' shouldn't sound so...pornographic.

Sherlock did not believe in hell, or any higher power for that matter. However, if any version of 'hell' did exist, he was certainly going to burn in it for his reaction to John's squirming... Not to mention his manipulation of this case for his own personal gain... and so many other things besides. Instead of doing the upstanding thing and cancelling the wedding, instead of backing off from his straight flat mate, Sherlock had seized an opportunity to double down. As short as it may be, and as wrong as it may be, Sherlock could not turn down the opportunity to be with John, as an almost lover. It was the closest thing he would ever get to what he really wanted, and Sherlock was too selfish to turn it down.

"As long as we keep communicating with each other, John, I do not believe there will be a problem... Even after this case is over, there may be residual reactions to each other; we have lived together as a couple for over a month, almost two. It may be close to three by the time everything is said and done. The human body is built to fall into patterns, it's normal and it still does not have to mean anything..." Sherlock drew John's hands into his and gave them a squeeze, "I don't want you reading too much into a casual gesture you or I may make out of habit after…after everything is back to normal."

There. Sherlock had well and truly sealed his fate. After this case was solved, any lapse in concentration Sherlock might have would be sufficiently explained away… As much as Sherlock didn't want to think about that, didn't want to remember that he was on borrowed time with John, it would be foolish not to plan for the future. He didn't want to lose John, ever, not if he could avoid it.

John nodded, then brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed Sherlock's knuckles. "You're right. I think we've been more than a bit lacking on the communication front, to have come so far without hashing this out." John looked around them and gave a small sigh.

Sherlock disentangled one hand from John's, and used it to lift John's chin so that they might make eye contact once more. "No plan is without its flaws."

John smiled up at Sherlock and, without any more thought on the matter, leaned up to kiss him. Sherlock's hand slipped to the side of John's face once more, holding him there. John's lips opened against Sherlock's instantly, sliding, pressing together. Sherlock let out a small groan, his tongue moving to caress John's, drawing them closer together Sherlock felt the briefest scrape of teeth when the door to the dressing room cracked open.

"Oi!" Lestrade sounded both fond, and frustrated. "We're waiting on you two out here; you'll have plenty of time to kiss later!"

John flushed, ducking his head into the crook of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock smirked and ran his hand over John's back. "We'll be along in a moment, Greg," Sherlock murmured.

Greg glanced over the two once more and nodded, a content smile gracing his lips. "Alright, you have five minutes. If I have to come back, I'm bringing a hose."

John and Sherlock chuckled quietly as Greg closed the door, giving them privacy once more. "Now then," Sherlock began, reaching to pick up John's forgotten boutonniere, "I do believe you'll be needing this."

"Yes," John said a bit wistfully, "I suppose I will." He watched as Sherlock deftly pinned the purple orchid to his jacket with his long, graceful fingers. John looked up as Sherlock smoothed out the fabric, and their eyes locked. John wrapped his arms more tightly around Sherlock, feeling off-balance. Sherlock had just begun to tilt his head downward when the door clicked open.

"Let's go," Lestrade insisted, stepping into the room to herd out the grooms. "It would be a shame to ruin your suits by getting them wet."

Sherlock arched a sharp eyebrow, undeterred. "In my research I found some ridiculous notions that certain individuals consider it good luck if it rains on your wedding day. Given the blatant pseudoscience behind such traditions, one could presume it is also good luck if one is doused with water in general." Sherlock smirked down at John and curled a possessive hand over his hip. "If there is any truth behind the colloquialism, it was likely derived from couples who, as you imply, could only be separated with a large spray of cold water."

Lestrade heaved an affectionately put-upon sigh and muttered," Whatever," before giving the happy couple a friendly shove towards the door.

John and Sherlock chuckled again. They made their way into the foyer of the church, standing together behind Greg and Mycroft who, as their best men, would be making their way down the aisle before the grooms. As they stood there John took a moment to admire Sherlock's suite. It had black trousers and coat with a stark white jacket underneath. The stark contrast mirrored Sherlock's hair and skin. It looked good on him. Well, everything looked good on Sherlock.

They'd toyed with the idea of one of them wearing a white coat, but Sherlock's pale skin made him look a bit washed out with that much white, and John didn't look much better. As is, he wasn't sure he looked that good in his own, grey morning suit. The coat and trousers were a darker gray then the light silvery color of the inner vest. It was a nice enough combination that complimented John well, but it was hard for anyone to measure up to the dramatic visage of the world's only consulting detective, in John's opinion.

As if sensing John's thoughts, Sherlock leaned down and nuzzled his temple before murmuring, "You look fine John, very handsome."

John blushed, and turned his head slightly to nuzzle Sherlock back. "Thank you," he whispered, "So do you."

Greg was glancing over his shoulder, grinning at the pair of them. As he turned to face front again, Greg noticed that Mycroft was also looking back; and he was scowling. Greg studied Mycroft quietly, until the elder Holmes seemed to sense the scrutiny, and turned to look at him. Greg locked eyes with Mycroft, and the air fizzled with a quiet tension, brown irises meeting blue. "You really think they're making a mistake, don't you?" Greg said murmured.

Mycroft arched a condescending eyebrow. "Obviously."

"Then I feel sorry for you," Greg said earnestly. Gently, Greg reached out to take Mycroft's arm in his. Mycroft jumped at the contact, surprised, but didn't pull away. They were, after all, about to walk down the aisle together. Mycroft turned to face forward so he wouldn't have to look at the sympathetic expression Gregory was still directing at him. It was misdirected anyway.

A violin song Sherlock had composed himself, performed by several cousins of his, was their cue to move. Mycroft and Greg made their way down the aisle first; there was a brief pause, then a subtle shift in the music that indicated the groom's entrance.

The room seemed to swim lightly as they passed pews decorated with purple orchids, white roses, and candles. All God's Children United church had been mostly constructed from rough gray fieldstones, with beautiful wooden arches high in the ceiling. Multicoloured light from the massive stained glass windows flickered and dappled the hall. It was, if he was honest with himself, just the kind of place John thought he would be married in. He wasn't strictly religious, but he did believe in a God, or a force for good; whatever you wanted to call it. Sherlock, of course, having deduced this during the wedding planning had called him 'sentimental'. John had just smiled, because it was true. Sherlock might not believe in any God but he was a righteous force for good in his own way.

They stood in front of the pastor, a trim man with short black hair, a beard, and brown eyes (he was, apparently, Isabel's brother). John and Sherlock faced each other. John knew the room must be crowded, but it didn't feel that way when he looked into Sherlock's eyes.

With a nod from the pastor, Greg stepped forward to perform a reading from George Eliot, which John had given to him before the ceremony. He spoke clearly, his voice echoing throughout the church, heavy with emotion for his two friends. "What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life, to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?"

Sherlock was smirking quietly as Greg teared up near the end. John gave him a gentle nudge and whispered, "This is a wedding Sherlock, no smirking." Even though he was whispering, the acoustics of the church ensured John was heard throughout.

Sherlock's smirk widened into a smile and he whispered back, "Just like there's no giggling at crime scenes?" John had to make a very concentrated effort not to laugh, and then he did anyway, because everyone else was.

Greg returned to his place at John's side, and the pastor stepped forwards once more. "Friends, we have been invited here today to share with Sherlock and John, a most important moment in their lives. In the time they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured. Now, they have decided to live their lives together as husbands.

We have been invited to hear Sherlock and John as they promise to face the future together, accepting whatever may lie ahead. For the world that God has created for them, with its beauty and grace that is all around, with the strength that it offers, and the peace that it brings, makes them truly grateful."

The pastor paused then taking a moment to make eye contact with each groom, saying their names as he did so. "Sherlock and John, nothing is easier than saying words, and nothing harder than living them day after day. What you promise today must be renewed and re-decided tomorrow. At the end of this ceremony you will be married, but you still must decide each day that stretches out before you, that you want to be married.

"Real love is something beyond the warmth and glow, the excitement and romance, of being deeply in love. It is caring as much about the welfare and happiness of your marriage partner as about your own. But real love is not total absorption in each other; it is looking outward in the same direction... together. Love makes burdens lighter, because you divide them. It makes joys more intense, because you share them. It makes you stronger, so you can reach out and become involved with life in ways you dared not risk alone."

The time had come for their vows. Instead of blithely repeating after the pastor, Sherlock and John had chosen to memorise the vows they would make to each other. They had worked together to alter a generally traditional set of vows so that they would be both slightly unique, timeless.

John took a deep breath and locked eyes with Sherlock as he began to speak, "I, John Watson, take you, Sherlock Holmes, to be my husband, to have and to hold you from this day forward. I promise to love you, comfort you, honour you, and keep you. Wherever you walk, I will walk; whatever you face, I will face. I join myself to you for better or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until the end of my days."

As he said his vows, John reflected on how much he really meant them. Leaving aside the romantic aspect for the moment, John had already made and kept those vows to Sherlock, from the first moment he'd fired his gun in Sherlock's defence. He meant every word, and would continue to honour his vows regardless of what happened after the case. The more he thought about it, the more he realised how married, more or less, Sherlock and he had already been for years.

Sherlock gave John's hand a squeeze as he finished. John was pleased to note that, while no one could say Sherlock was 'tearing up' like John most certainly was, the consulting detective's eyes were a bit more 'moist' than normal.

Sherlock drew in a deep breath, and recited his vows to John. Unaware that John felt the same way, Sherlock was also resolved to keep his vows as he had been for the majority of his strange and fortunate partnership with Dr. Watson. John was the only person Sherlock could ever trust this much. Considering that he hadn't set out to trust anyone to begin with, that was saying something. John forced things out of Sherlock that he hadn't even known were in him.

"I, Sherlock Holmes, take you, John Watson, to be my husband, to have and to hold you from this day forward. I promise to love you, comfort you, honour you, and keep you. Wherever you walk, I will walk; whatever you face, I will face. I join myself to you for better or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until the end of my days."

A moment of silence passed before the pastor spoke again. "Sherlock and John, we have heard you promise to share your lives in marriage. We recognise and respect the covenant you have made. It is not a minister standing before you that makes your marriage real, but the honesty and sincerity of what you have said and done here, before your friends and relatives, in the sight of God."

The pastor extended his hand then to Rocko, who had been sitting silently at Evie's feet thus far. "May I have the rings?" Right on cue, Rocko padded to the altar and sat down. The pastor retrieved the rings from a small pouch attached to Rocko's collar. Rocko gave a happy bark, wagging his tail furiously, and made his way back to Evie's side. There was another round of chuckles, Sherlock and John being especially amused. Using Rocko as the ring bearer had been Evie's suggestion. John had found it cute, and Sherlock had known it would annoy Mycroft, so their decision had been a unanimous 'yes'.

The pastor held the rings out in the palm of one hand while his other hand hovered over them, and spoke again in a calm, clear voice, "The wedding ring is the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual bond which unites these loyal hearts in endless love. It is a seal of the vows Sherlock and John have made to one another. Bless O God these rings, that John and Sherlock, who give them, and who wear them, may ever abide in thy peace. Living together in unity, love and happiness until the end of their days."

The pastor looked at Sherlock until Sherlock returned his gaze. "Sherlock," the pastor began, "Do you take John to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Sherlock nodded. "I do." The pastor held out his hand and Sherlock reached forward to take John's ring.

John had been particularly anxious to see the rings, because Sherlock had not told him what changes would be made for the wedding. As Sherlock lifted John's left hand, and held the ring at the tip of his ring finger, John noticed the slight sparkle; diamond chips had been fitted into the small crevasses created by the gold and silver wrapping around each other. It was subtle, and it was perfect.

As Sherlock slid John's ring onto his finger he said, "John, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows. With all that I am, and all that I have, I honour you. With this ring, I thee wed."

Sherlock looked up at John then, and John had to force himself to look away from Sherlock when the pastor spoke again. "John, do you take Sherlock to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," John replied earnestly, reaching forward to take Sherlock's ring. John lifted Sherlock's left hand, placed his ring at the edge of his ring finger, swallowed, and willed his voice not to shake as he said, "Sherlock, I give you this ring as a symbol of our vows. With all that I am, and all that I have, I honour you." John glanced up and met Sherlock's eyes as he slid the ring home. "With this ring, I thee wed."

John heard the pastor speaking once more, but he couldn't look away from Sherlock. "May these people be a blessing and comfort to each other, sharers of each their dreams, consoler to each other's sorrows, helpers to each other in all life's vicissitudes. May they encourage each other in whatever they set out to achieve. May they trust each other, trust life and be unafraid. May they love each other and offer love and support to those around them."

Mycroft just barely managed not to look as though he'd eaten curdled milk when he stepped up to perform the reading Sherlock had given him from 'The Prophet'. His voice resounded in the church delivering, without hesitation, a reading he was sure Sherlock had chosen just to make him uncomfortable. "Love one another, but make not a bond of that love. Let it rather be like a moving sea between the shores of your souls. And stand together, and yet not too near together, For even the pillars of the temple must stand apart; and the oak tree and the cypress will not grow in each other's shadow. Remember that love gives nothing but from itself. Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love. And think not that you can direct the course of love. For love, if it finds you worthy, will direct your course."

Mycroft stepped silently back into place, allowing the pastor to step forward once more. The pastor raised both of his arms into the air and declared, "By the power invested in me by the people of this church, and by God above, I now declare you married! You may kiss your husband."

Sherlock and John leaned forward together, the soft brush of lips quickly giving way to the gentle slide of one tongue against another. John slid his hands up Sherlock's arms, and looped them around his neck, even as he felt Sherlock's arms tighten around his waist. John swore, he swore, he could feel Sherlock's heart beating wildly against his own, and the room seemed to spin out of control.

The applause was so loud that Sherlock could feel it in his chest, but he didn't hear it, because all his focus was on the feel and taste of John's mouth against his. Sherlock had kissed a plethora of people in the name of 'the game,' but no one else could silence his mind like this, and certainly no one else had ever made him tingle.

An indecent amount of time later, Sherlock began to pull back, first his tongue, then slowly, reluctantly, he moved his lips away from John's. Sherlock opened his eyes to find John's still closed. When John blinked up owlishly at him, looking slightly confused, Sherlock couldn't help smirking again. "You didn't even know I'd dipped you?" Sherlock asked, but it was more of a statement.

John blinked again before answering, "No, I didn't." But Sherlock must have, because now John could see the ceiling past Sherlock's head, and that would certainly explain the spinning sensation. John dragged his eyes back to Sherlock's and smiled up at him; a smile his new husband readily returned.

"Are you going to let me go?" John asked when Sherlock showed no signs of letting him up.

Sherlock leaned down just enough to whisper in John's ear, "Not if I can help it."