Got My Eye on You
Chapter Sixty Three The Best Man
Setlock and Series 3 SPOILER ALERT! Don't like, don't read! However, most know that Moffat has hinted about a wedding, so this is my take.
John's face was flushed. The heady cocktail of adrenaline, pleasure, and excitement showed in the wide grin he flashed at Sherlock. The bride's father's speech had been warm and funny, John's reply was gallant and generous. As he sat down, John leaned over and said "It's your turn."
This was greeted with silence by the brunet, which prompted John to quickly add, "Are you okay with this? If not, I'll understand."
"I'm fine. It's all fine," was the quiet reply as Sherlock stood up. All eyes in the room came to rest on the tall slim figure in morning suit. Studiously avoiding the video camera, he drew a deep breath.
"As this is the first wedding I've ever been bothered to attend, I have done some preparatory research." He fixed his gaze on Mrs Hudson, at the third table along. Somehow, looking at her encouraging smile was easier than seeing so many unknown faces. He cleared his throat.
"I'm not accustomed to public speaking; well, not outside of a courtroom or at crime scenes, neither of which bear much resemblance to this gathering." He paused for a moment. "Personally, I think this one is a whole lot scarier." There were a some smiles and gentle laughter at that comment, particularly from Greg Lestrade.
"I know that there are some of you in the room who thought that John's choice of me as his best man was a triumph of loyalty over common sense, and I gather that there is a sizeable betting pool as to how long it will be before I say something rude, inappropriate or cause a major scene. I am afraid I have to disappoint you on that score. I've promised the bride that I will be on my best behaviour, and, quite frankly, I am more afraid of her anger than I am of John's." This was greeted by some gentle laughter.
"During my research, I must admit to being…puzzled by the sort of advice that is offered to those who are talked into the role of best man. According to one website, I am supposed to offer a series of risqué stories about the groom's sexual exploits prior to his becoming engaged, and to reveal something embarrassing to him, for your entertainment. Again, I fear I shall disappoint. John and I have had numerous discussions about his deplorable taste in television programming; I have never understood so-called 'stand-up comedy', so please don't expect any such frivolity from me."
"What I will say about John is that he has been the best friend a man could ever have, and I know that Mary will learn, if she has not already done so, that John Watson is the best friend she will ever have. I can also tell her now that for as long as I've known John, he has had a dream of meeting a woman he could love, marry and with whom he could have a family. As most of you who know John are already aware, he is an impeccable judge of character. So, as he has chosen Mary to be that woman, then I know she will live up to that dream. From personal experience, I can tell her that John is patient, kind, and honourable. But, of course, she already knows this."
He now looked over at Mary and addressed her directly. "Mary, I do need to thank you personally for one particular thing. You have my gratitude for finally putting to rest the idea that John was a "confirmed bachelor"- he raised his fingers to make the quotation marks in the air- "and for putting the lie to the idea and that he and I were anything more than flatmates, colleagues and friends. This, of course, has deprived the tabloid newspapers of some fun, for which both John and I are eternally grateful." This was greeted by hearty laughter.
"Another duty of the best man's speech is to thank the bridesmaids." He glanced over at Mary's sister, Sadie. "I am still rather in the dark as to what their role has been, but if it was to ensure that Mary showed up on time and in the proper dress, then I am grateful for John's sake that they did so. I have watched John fearlessly tackle hardened criminals, face gunfire and deal with the gutter press- all without showing anything but resolute courage and quiet fortitude. I once said he had nerves of steel- but today, at the thought that Mary might have had second thoughts and decided not to show up, well I saw a nervous John that I had never known before. So, bridesmaids, for making sure that the bride arrived on time, I thank you."
"One website insisted it was the best man's role to dance with the maid of honour, but I fear I shall have to disappoint Sadie, unless someone can convince the DJ to play a waltz- which I deduce is highly unlikely, given the state of his Metallica T shirt, the callous on his left thumb and the five rings in his left ear." As the guests' laughter erupted, John smirked and gestured at Mary, "HER choice, not mine!" in mock horror.
Now Sherlock looked down at the table, focusing on the flower arrangement that was alongside his table place-card.
"I won't delay you much longer from the final course of the meal- the cake will be cut shortly. Before that, I just want to say that I am the one here who is a fraud. John is the best man in the room and, as such, he deserves happiness. I am glad he has finally found it with Mary. I ask you all to raise your glasses with me, and join me in a toast."
In his best baritone voice, Sherlock said, "To John and Mary's happiness." The guests stood and echoed the toast. As he sat down, John just said to him, "That was…amazing." Applause and cheering erupting as John then leaned over and kissed Mary.
oOo
When the bride and groom left their seats to be photographed cutting the cake, guests got up from their tables to watch. With everyone's attention on that, Sherlock slipped out of the marquee.
Ten minutes later, Greg Lestrade went looking for him. He checked the loo first, then went out into the gardens surrounding the marquee. He found him eventually, leaning up against the stone wall, taking a very deep drag on a cigarette.
"Go away, Lestrade."
"My name is Greg, as you well know. No need to stand on ceremony- this isn't a crime scene."
"Isn't it?" The irony was evident in the brunet's reply.
Greg decided to tackle the issue head on. "That was a fine performance."
Sherlock grunted a reply and took another drag. When the smoke had cleared his lungs, he asked in a husky voice, "lose a lot of money then?"
"Nope- I won the pool. I bet you'd pull off a BAFTA performance of normality. Felt like a cheat, though. After all, I've known how good an actor you are since you were a skinny sixteen year old."
Lestrade looked at Sherlock. That morning suit is just…perfect. He knew that Sherlock had insisted on sourcing both his and John's outfits, and that a Jermyn Street tailor was involved. In comparison, Lestrade's blue suit looked very pedestrian.
Greg took a matching pose, leaning on the wall alongside Sherlock. "Have you got another cigarette for me?"
"No. Just the one. A reward for getting through it."
Lestrade smiled. "What you did in there for John was true friendship. You let him believe that you're just fine about his getting married. But, I know better. So, despite appearances, what's going on in that head of yours? What's the real truth?"
Sherlock still hadn't looked him in the eye. He smoked with intent, concentrating on every intake of nicotine as if his life depended on it. After a moment or two, he replied, "Nothing I said in there was a lie."
"Half a truth can be even more misleading that a blatant untruth, Sherlock. You know that better than most people."
Sherlock handed Greg his cigarette, which the DI took and gratefully dragged in a mouthful of smoke before handing it back. Sherlock then asked quietly, " What would a real person in their real life think about the situation?"
Greg thought about it. "A real person would feel…bereft. It's a dramatic change when someone who has been at the centre of your life for the past six years just goes off and starts a different life with someone else. So, distress, loneliness, regret- those feelings are understandable- even for you, Sherlock."
"You are speaking from personal experience about your divorce. But, as John will always tell anyone who would listen, we weren't a couple."
Greg sighed. "I never heard you say that."
"I had nothing to say about such a bizarre idea, and I have nothing to say now."
"Sherlock…"
"Don't, just don't. If I had to count the number of times someone who thinks of themselves as a friend of mine has offered me 'advice' since the news of John's engagement first broke…it's as if everyone thinks I am going to go to pieces. You've avoided that cliché until now. I would be grateful if you could continue to do so."
Greg considered the idea for a moment, and then rejected it. "I suppose everyone has been telling you, John included, that being married won't change his friendship with you."
"Of course. All lies, but it somehow seems to make people feel better to say that. Most peculiar, in my view. His being married changes everything."
"He will still be your friend."
That seemed to provoke the first flash of anger in the grey eyes that would still not look at him. "That idea is ridiculous. Our friendship was defined in the moments we shared in the flat and in the work we did on crime scenes. Take those away, and there is nothing left in common. Nothing at all."
"That's being a bit hard on John. Are you saying he won't try?"
Sherlock took a last drag on the stub of a cigarette. "No, I'm not saying that. He will try to do what he does with all of his other friends- a phone call or text, the occasional invitation to meet up at a pub, or share a coffee, a meal. Because of Mary, he might even involve her in it. Most of his friends in that marquee have taken to her, as hers have embraced him. They will have a shared social life with a wide circle, I have no doubt."
"But you don't intend to be part of that?"
Now Sherlock looked at him askance. "What part of your experience of me suggests that such a thing is even remotely possible?"
"So, you're not even going to try?"
Sherlock dropped the cigarette butt, and ground it out carefully with his expensive leather shoe, crushing it against the gravel path. "What's the point? The last three months have been a dress rehearsal, as Mary and the wedding plans took over. He's moved his stuff out of Baker Street and into her flat. He upped his hours at the clinic to full time, to start building their deposit for a house. Once they are back from the honeymoon, contact will steadily decrease as their life together expands to fill his available leisure time. Then in the near future, she'll get pregnant and then family responsibilities will intrude, narrowing John's free time even more. Even if we did 'meet up' as the saying goes, what the hell would we talk about? Our relationship was based on living and working together. He used to need me, he doesn't now. Why drag it out in a slow death? Compared to his other friends, I'm too high maintenance."
"You're not just another friend to him, Sherlock. He won't let go so easily."
"Then I will make it simple for him. Better that, than have some misguided sense of loyalty or guilt force him into trying to sustain something that has died. Life after death is overrated."
"That's the first time I've heard bitterness from you. At least that's honest."
"This is the first time John has ever been selfish in his relationship with me. But, I meant what I said in there. He deserves it- happiness. That's what life for real people is supposed to be about."
"What about your happiness?"
"There's no such thing. Never has been, never will be. I don't 'get' the concept. It's meaningless. What is, is. That's all. Sentiment just…gets in the way." He pushed himself off the wall and started back toward the tent.
But before Sherlock had got more than a step away, Greg reached out and held his arm, feeling the flinch, but not letting go. When Sherlock turned back in annoyance to glare at him, Greg just said quietly, "so says the man who jumped off a roof to save the lives of three people he cared about."
Sherlock looked away. "That was then; this is now. All I have left is The Work. So, if you want to be a friend to me, Lestrade, then find me good cases. That's all I want from you. That's all I'm good for now."
He shrugged off Greg's hand and moved out of reach. The older man sighed, and kept his eye on Sherlock as he strode across the lawn, back towards the marquee.
