Sorry it's short. Wanted to get 'The Bloody Guardsman' all in one chapter...

Mrs. Hudson smiled pleasantly as she heard the sound of Sherlock's violin drifting down from upstairs as she brought up his morning tea. What she didn't expect was to see him dancing by himself.

"Shut up, Mrs. Hudson." He said just as she entered the room.

"I haven't said a word." She said back, keeping her voice down as she spotted Sam asleep on the couch nearby.

"You're formulating a question. It's physically painful watching you thinking." Sherlock replied dully as he moved to the radio that was playing.

"I thought it was you playing."

"It was me playing." He said, turning it off and gesturing to the iPod docked into it as he made a note on some music sheets. "I am composing."

"You were dancing." Mrs. Hudson teased, setting down the tray and fixing up Sherlock's tea as he flopped into his chair and glanced briefly at Sam.

"I was road-testing. A partner would have been preferable; however, Sam was having difficulties sleeping and only got to sleep a few hours ago."

"Poor dear." Mrs. Hudson murmured, before Sherlock returned his gaze to her.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm bringing you your morning tea." She replied with a smile. "You're not usually awake, though Sam isn't either, but she at least appreciates it."

"You bring me tea in the morning?" Sherlock questioned as though she hadn't just said she did.

"Well, where did you think it came from?"

"I don't know." He hummed. "I just thought it sort of happened."

"Your mother has a lot to answer for." She chided him, passing him his tea.

"Mm, I know. I have a list… Mycroft has a file."

Mrs. Hudson chuckled and plopped down in John's chair. "So, it's the big day then!"

"What big day?" Sherlock questioned, knowing full well what she was talking about, but not really caring.

"The wedding! John and Mary getting married!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What's big about that?"

"It changes people, marriage."

"Mm, no it doesn't." He argued.

"Well, you wouldn't understand 'cause you always live alone." She quipped back, causing Sherlock to make a face. "You're lucky Sam came back here, anyway. Though I'd say she was the lucky one. Ever since you came back, she's gotten a little… happier."

Sherlock frowned. "Happier? Really?"

"Ever since a few months ago, yes. I don't know what you two did that night, but you left the room a mess! Bottles everywhere. There was a stain in the floor that took ages to get out!" She scolded him, but sighed and relaxed. "She's much more relaxed now though. She always looked so tense before."

Smith hopped up into her lap then and she happily scratched him behind the ears.

Sherlock attempted to change the subject. "Your husband was executed for double murder. You're hardly an advert for companionship."

Mrs. Hudson didn't look bothered by his jab. "Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you can't imagine."

"As does lethal injection." He countered with a smirk.

"My best friend, Margaret. She was my chief bridesmaid." She started and Sherlock rolled his eyes, seeing the story that was about to drag on from her. "We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw her after that."

He got up and moved to the door. "Aren't there usually biscuits?"

"I've run out."

"Have the shops?" He urged, but she ignored him and continued on.

"She cried the whole day, saying 'ooh, it's the end of an era'."

"I'm sure the shop on the corner is open." Sherlock pressed once more.

"She was probably right, really." She ignored him as he grimaced in annoyance. "I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early? So sad."

"Mm, anyway, you've got things to do."

"No, not really. I've got plenty of time to—"

"Biscuits." Sherlock hissed and she hurried up out of the chair and scuttled out the door.

"I really am going to have a word with your mother."

"You can if you like. She understands very little." Sherlock quipped back, shutting the door behind her and sighing.

He looked over at John's chair then, expression shifting, before a voice surprised him.

"Your face is going to get stuck that way if you're not careful."

He rolled his eyes at Sam's comment. "A scientific impossibility."

He glanced over at her form on the couch and frowned at her arm draped over her eyes and her slightly quivering hands.

"Nightmare?" He questioned, looking away as she hummed.

"Didn't get far, thanks to your sending Mrs. Hudson for biscuits. How long do I have till the wedding?"

"About an hour. Unless you are leaving with me, then half an hour."

"Mm, an hour it is then. I need to shower." She grumbled, sitting up and wincing as she rubbed at her neck.

"You should have moved to John's bed." Sherlock commented, heading towards his—newly reclaimed—bedroom.

"I already told you why that's not happening." She replied, grabbing a bag set off to the side and ducking into the bathroom. "See you at the wedding."

He grunted, suspicious about the bag, but shook it off as he went to get changed himself. The discussion a few months back between him and Sam had gone better than he expected. They had both managed to share a few things that had been settling on their minds at the time, as well as sort out how things were going to be back at Backer Street and on cases since they were both around for good. Sam would get his more minor cases to work on with the occasional consultation with him about more twisted factors. They would both work on the major cases together and with John, when they could get him too. The flat was once again under Sherlock's name, though Sam paid the rent for her half and had moved into John's old bedroom, though she still slept in his bed on more than one occasion. So long as he wasn't in need of it, he gave her free reign. She slept on the couch typically though, especially when she was out late on cases or if she couldn't sleep.

The nightmares were still there for her, which Sherlock attempted to help with via violin playing, but they were happening less frequently. He discovered they happened more often during times of stress for her, however it was hard for him to find the direct cause of said stress. Her foreknowledge was a part of it; though there had been less of her predictions as well, which she waved off without comment when he asked. The other part of her stress were the occasional triggers that reminded her of what had happened. It was hard for Sherlock to look at her, at times. Not for the reasons she suspected, which was typically along the line of him not being used to emotional people and therefore, not wanting to deal with her emotions. It was more of him not wanting to deal with his own emotions.

What happened to Bobbie had changed Sam a great deal. The death of a loved one had changed her, and seeing how bad the damage was first-hand, bothered Sherlock. When he had faked his death, he hadn't had to deal with anyone immediately afterward. No one who wasn't clued in, anyway. He had seen the aftermath with John, sure, but this was very fresh for Sam. She was hurting in ways Sherlock never experienced or had been witness to. Sure, he'd dealt with crying widows and such in his cases, but this was someone close to him who was suffering. Suffering terribly and he could find nothing to fix it. This was a problem impossible for Sherlock to solve and it ate away at him every time he was witness to a piece of Sam's grief.

He was trying to assist. His helping her sleep and take on some of his cases was a part of that, but it felt as though it wasn't enough. He wanted—No, needed to do something more for her, but what? He frowned as that thought floated in his head as he finished adjusting his tie and went downstairs to meet with the cab taking him to the wedding. He paused briefly to glance up at the window, but let out a sigh and drove off to see his best friend get married.

Sherlock scowled, not pleased at all. Despite him having texted Sam multiple times, the wedding ceremony was already over and he'd yet to spot her. It was annoying, mostly because he knew she was there somewhere, but where had yet to be determined. Already, he had been accosted by the bridesmaid, whom he was amusing by assisting her in finding someone other than him for a fling.

"He's nice." She hummed, eyeing a waiter that just dropped off some canapés with Mary.

Sherlock inhaled and grimaced. "Traces of two leading brands of deodorant, both advertised for their strength, suggestive of a chronic body odor problem manifesting under stress." He rattled off and Janine also wrinkled her nose.

"Okay, done there. What about his friend?"

Sherlock followed her gaze, skimming those faces he passed in search of Sam's before landing on another waiter pulling a skewer from a roast.

"Long-term relationship, compulsive cheat."

"Seriously?"

Sherlock resisted a sigh. He'd promised John and Mary he'd be well-behaved. Sam as well, but seeing as she wasn't even here…

"Waterproof cover on his smartphone. Yet, his complexion doesn't indicate outdoor work. Suggests he's in the habit of taking his phone into the shower with him, which means he often receives texts and emails he'd rather went unseen."

Janine smiled and moved slightly closer to Sherlock, much to his displeasure. "Can I keep you?"

"Do you like solving crimes?" He questioned back idly, hoping to dissuade her.

"Do you have a vacancy?"

He resisted a grimace as she smirked, but she soon excused herself to grab a drink and Sherlock shifted towards where Mary was; John having gone off to salute a man in military attire who'd just walked in.

"So, that's him: Major Sholto." Sherlock commented and Mary nodded with a grin.

"Uh-huh."

Sherlock frowned, getting more annoyed with how John seemed to be drifting further and further away from him.

"If they're just good friends, why does he barely ever mention him?"

"He mentions him all the time to me. He never shuts up about him." Mary mused.

"About him?"

"Mm-hm." She sipped her wine and then grimaced. "Ugh, I chose this wine. It's bloody awful."

"Yes, but it's definitely him that he talks about?" Sherlock pressed and Mary couldn't help but smile a bit.

"Mm-hm."

"I've never even heard him say his name."

"Well, he's almost a recluse. You know, since…"

"Yes." Sherlock said, understanding that she was talking about the man's scars and reputation.

"I didn't think he'd show up at all. John says he's the most unsociable man he's ever met."

"He is? He's the most unsociable?"

Mary hummed.

"Ah, that's why he's bouncing 'round him like a puppy."

Mary grinned and hugged Sherlock's arm. "Oh, Sherlock. Neither of us were the first, you know. Besides, the way John talked about Sam, makes it sound like she did the same around you."

Sherlock puffed up proudly at that, before his frown returned and he looked down at Mary. "Where is she? I didn't see her at the ceremony."

Mary blinked, confused. "You didn't—Oh!" She smirked devilishly. "Oh, of course you didn't."

Mary looked around the reception and started to frown as well.

"Is she hiding again? Here. Give me your phone." She said, holding out her hand and Sherlock paused.

"Why don't you use yours?"

Mary gave him a look. "Does it look like I have pockets?"

Seeing his error, Sherlock cleared his throat and looked away as he handed her his cell phone and her beaming smile returned.

"Stop smiling."

"It's my wedding day!" She replied playfully, before Sam must have picked up. "Sam, it's Mary. Now, you best stop hiding away wherever you are. Come out here, or I'll hunt you down myself... What?" Mary glanced at Sherlock, who raised a brow. "No, Sherlock's not with me. Yes, yes. Now come on."

She hung up and passed the phone to Sherlock, who gave her a look.

"She asked if I was with you?"

Mary nodded. "You'd think she'd be a bit clever, seeing as I was calling from your phone, but yes. She asked if you were with me and I lied."

She grinned and Sherlock went to question her as to why Sam would ask about him, but he didn't get the chance.

"Mary, I don't know how you convinced me to do this, but I'll have you know, I hate every damn sec… ond…"

Sherlock blinked in surprise at the figure that had come their way, while Mary smirked devilishly beside him. The young woman had Sam's voice, but looked almost nothing like her. Her short hair was done up in a fauxhawk, as per norm, but it somehow made her look even more feminine than usual when combined with the light makeup on her face and the slim dark violet dress. Her complexion immediately turned a vibrant shade of embarrassed red and she turned to Mary with a hiss.

"You told me you weren't with him!"

Mary continued to grin, unbothered by her snappish tone. "And you, apparently, weren't clever enough to notice I used his phone."

Sam groaned and Mary chuckled, patting her shoulder and walking off with a wave over her shoulder.

"I'll just leave you two to it then!"

"That woman's going to be the death of me." Sam grumbled under her breath, glaring at Mary's back before looking back at Sherlock, who had yet to move. "Sorry, were you, um… looking for me?"

Sherlock blinked, drawing himself from his trance. "You weren't answering my texts."

Sam's muscles tensed. "Sorry."

His brows furrowed though. "But you answered Mary when she called with my phone. Why?"

Sam closed her eyes for a moment and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, only to put the hand back at her side; resisting the urge that could potentially ruin her makeup. "You don't call. You always text, so why would I avoid a call while knowing it's not… Dear God, I did it again. Gah, I'm such an idiot! I need to just shut up." She scolded herself, realizing what she'd just given up.

"You were avoiding my texts." Sherlock said, a little annoyed and confused. "Why?"

He spotted her flexing her hand, resisting another urge—probably to pull it through her hair—as she hefted out another long sigh and begrudgingly explained.

"Because of this." She gestured to herself. "Mary somehow convinced me to wear it, saying things about how it's her wedding so I have to. Or it would look cute, and other nonsense. I-I couldn't just say no, knowing that she wouldn't let up unless I did. So, I wore it and I hate every minute of it, but it's better than having her guilt trip me later." She paused, a frown marring her features. "Though I'm starting to believe otherwise."

Sherlock was still confused. "But you were avoiding me. Specifically, me."

"No! No, not specifically you." Sam corrected, wincing and lowering her voice as she saw some eyes turn towards them. "I was avoiding everyone, Sherlock. It's bad enough getting stares from those who don't know me, but think about it. Mrs. Hudson? She would go nuts if she spotted me like this. And Lestrade? And Molly? And John? I hate being the center of attention and Mary just made me that. I barely managed to convince Mary not to make me the official bridesmaid, but I would honestly like to just head back to the flat now, if it weren't for the fact I know she would hunt me down and drag me back."

Sherlock wasn't entirely convinced that she hadn't been avoiding him specifically, but he would find out about that later. Already he could see her anxiety beginning to show. Between the crowded room and her outfit, she was obviously uncomfortable, though he was surprised she was showing it so openly. It bothered him, and he couldn't figure out why.

"I'm going to get a drink." Sam grumbled. "Or five."

Sherlock grabbed her arm though, stopping her and fighting to ignore the tingle that went up his arm at the action. "You look… nice."

She stopped and blinked, before what he said seemed to click in her head and her cheeks flamed a bright red. "U-Um… T-Thanks?"

He struggled to say something else, his mind suddenly not wanting to provide words to stop her from leaving. Why do I want her to stay?

"Are you going to be sitting up with John and I later?"

She nodded hesitantly. "Yes. Mary wouldn't budge on that."

"I see." He released her, having nothing else to really say, but she didn't leave just yet.

"Sherlock." She looked back at him and he felt his spine straighten automatically at the look in her eyes. "This wedding isn't going to go as planned."

"What do you mean?" He questioned seriously.

He never liked it when Sam brought up something serious like this. It never meant anything good, especially when her foreknowledge was involved; which it typically was.

"I can't say anything specific and I wish there could have been something done earlier…" She trailed off and Sherlock's frown deepened.

She was upset about something. Something she had missed, or hadn't prevented. And that key word was there too, which bothered Sherlock. 'Earlier'. How much earlier? What did she mean by earlier? An earlier case? Something she could have done earlier to prevent this now? Planning earlier? Too many questions raced through his mind as Sam sighed and went on.

"Just keep an eye out. It'll be like the taxi case." She said, alerting him immediately that something potentially dangerous would happen here at the wedding. "And don't react to what I'm saying now. Too early, and you'll tip them off."

"Hints?" He asked hesitantly, knowing from their previous talk how she felt about giving things away.

"It's a lot of pressure, Sherlock. You have to understand that. It's me desperately trying to find something to give you, when every little tidbit could cause a huge change in the future. It's not easy and it's me that that falls on. Any error, is my fault. Even if it's something small, because just my being here with you and John screws things up. My existence changes everything, so please understand that when you ask for a hint, I might not be able to give you one. Even if I desperately want to."

"I have three." She said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing waiter and downing it in a way that made them both grimace. "Listen to Archie."

"Archie?" Sherlock questioned and she nodded.

"That kid who likes the murder photos. You'd be surprised." She hummed, reaching up again to try and pass her hand through her hair, only to flinch and rub the back of her neck. "Your second hint is that this has to do with a past case. A recent past case, but don't beat yourself up over it, because it wouldn't have been possible for you to fix back then."

"But you could have." He accused and she winced.

"Yes, and I hate that I didn't, but there was nothing I could have done that wouldn't have ruined today for someone." She said, looking at him and searching his gaze for understanding, to which he nodded.

"And the third?"

"It has nothing to do with this case. The third hint." She said then, making him frown in confusion.

"Then what—"

"It does, however…" She cut him off and looked him right in the eyes. "…have to do with our old bonfire friend."

Sherlock straightened in surprise, remembering that she had mentioned that coming back into the light sooner or later. "Now?"

She shook her head. "No. Still a ways away, but… something will startle Mary when you go reading the telegrams. Pay attention to the signer. Now, go phone your brother. Interrupt his workout session and tell him I said he's not fat." She waved off, making Sherlock snort and shake his head as she moved towards the open bar.

He couldn't help but watch her go though. "Hm."

Sherlock wasn't nervous. Sherlock didn't get nervous. And yet, here he was preparing to do his duty as the best man, with a stutter on his lips. I couldn't help but smirk into my champagne glass in amusement as John looked my way in a vain attempt to get me to help him unstick Sherlock. I finally mouthed 'telegrams' to John, who shook his head and said it out loud, getting Sherlock's attention.

"Right, um…" Sherlock pat his pockets before I reached out and tapped the top of the pile in front of him. "Thank you."

I gave a small nod as John cleared his throat to get him going and Sherlock did the same.

"First thing's first. Telegrams." He waved the pile at the guests. "Well, they're not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don't know why. Wedding tradition… because we don't have enough of that already, apparently."

"You're rambling." I murmured and he shot me a glare before reading the first telegram.

"'To Mr and Mrs Watson. So sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford'."

"Ah, Mike." John hummed and Mary hummed as well as Sherlock moved onto the next card.

"'To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big'..." He cut himself off and grimaced before continuing. "…'big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted'."

I spotted Lestrade chuckle and Molly's grin that matched my own.

"'Mary. Lots of love'…" He heaved a sigh as John and Mary looked up at him in curiosity. "…'poppet'…"

Mary giggled now, giving me an amused look as I resisted the urge to snort at Sherlock's embarrassment.

"…'Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes, from CAM. Wish your family could have seen this'."

Mary's smile faltered, as did mine, and Sherlock gave me a brief glance at that before slipping the telegram into his pocket and quickly speeding through the rest of them.

"Um, 'special day'… 'very special day'… 'love', 'love', 'love', 'love', 'lo—', bit of a theme. You get the general gist. People are basically fond."

The guests chuckled lightly, not noticing Mary's slightly uncomfortable expression that John was trying to soothe, and Sherlock went on.

"John Watson. My friend, John Watson. John." He looked over at John and then back to the guests. "When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realize he was asking me. When finally, I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and... surprised. I explained to him that I'd never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was—for me—as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he'd placed in me..."

I glanced at John, whose brows were furrowed in confusion and I waited with a small smile on my face for the punchline.

"…and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being... moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud."

The group laughed at that and before Sherlock could go scrambling through his notes to find his place, I slid my napkin towards him where I'd written out a hint.

Congratulate.

Talk about John.

He subtly nodded and cleared his throat, though I spotted John raising a brow as I tugged my napkin back.

"I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you."

I resisted a sigh as I rolled my eyes and a stunned John and Mary looked up at him.

"All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world." He rattled on. "Today we honor the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time—one feels certain—our entire species."

I cleared my throat this time and tapped my napkin where I'd underlined a bit.

Talk about John.

"But anyway…" Sherlock glanced around, seeing the uncomfortable guests. "Let's talk about John."

"Please." John breathed out and Sherlock pulled out his cards for his notes.

I couldn't help him with this bit, after all.

"If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice. It is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me." Sherlock said and I grit my teeth to keep from dropping my face into my hand. "Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides."

John was less strict with himself, and let out a sigh as Mary frowned.

"It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel; and contrast is, after all, God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot."

John shot me a look to stop him, but I waved him off, mouthing a short 'wait for it'.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous…" He glanced at me, surprisingly, making me almost choke on my drink as he turned to Mary and John. "…unaware of the beautiful… and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So, if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend. Certainly, not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing."

Mary smiled proudly at John and a number of the guests cooed at the speech.

"John, I am a ridiculous man, redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I'm apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion." He looked down a second, before looking back up and smiling. "Actually, now I can."

The couple smiled as the crowd did much the same and Sherlock looked at the bride.

"Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss." He leaned closer to John. "So sorry again about that last one." He muttered, straightening as John chuckled a little. "So know this. Today, you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. In short, the two people who love you most in all this world. Sam included, of course." He tacked on. "And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that."

Guests were sniffling now, getting emotional and even John looked about ready to tackle Sherlock in a hug.

"If I try to hug him, stop me."

"Certainly not." Mary replied back and as I spotted Sherlock making to do the next card, I kicked him lightly under the table.

He turned to me with a frown at the action, but I tipped my head towards the guests and he looked at them only to pause at the weepy-eyed faces.

"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John? Sam?"

I held up my hands in a 'don't look at me' gesture and Sherlock turned to John.

"Did I do it wrong?"

"No, you didn't." John said, standing. "Come here."

He hugged Sherlock as the audience clapped with awes, though I could still hear Sherlock mutter to John.

"I haven't finished yet."

"Yeah. I know, I know."

Sherlock, not one to stop, tried to continue, but John managed to get him to wait until he sat.

"So, on to some funny stories about John." He started, but some people were still in tears and he hesitated. "If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would…"

The guests chuckled and he nodded to himself.

"…be better… On we go. So, for funny stories…" He pulled out his phone and showed it around. "…one has to look no further than John's blog."

"Here we go." John muttered to Mary with a grin.

"The record of our time together with Sam. Of course, he does tend to romanticize things a bit, but then, you know…" He winked at Mary. "He's a romantic. We've tackled some strange cases. The Hollow Client, The Poison Giant. We've had some frustrating cases, 'touching' cases, and of course, I have to mention The Elephant in the Room."

Still don't know how they managed that one. I mused silently, awaiting the big case.

"But we want something… very particular for this special day, don't we? The Bloody Guardsman."