Here Comes the Bride

Genre: Family, with minor humour

Pairings: Greg and Molly, Sherlock and Sally

Main characters: Ensemble

"That didn't take long," Molly observed, as she settled down next to Greg on the couch upstairs in 221B. "Our wedding videographer took much longer than this to get our footage back to us."

The Lestrades had headed upstairs from their home in 221C for the first screening of Sherlock and Sally's much-anticipated wedding video. As nearly everyone assembled in the room had been in the wedding party, most of them had missed the entire picture of the "walking down the aisle" portion of the ceremony. This was their chance to finally take it in fully.

"I think Sherlock made a few casual deductions about him that made him bump us to the top of the list," Sally said. "I plead ignorance as to what was said, but whatever it was, it worked. I may have married a Git, but he's a bloody clever one." The room collectively rolled its eyes and looked away awkwardly as she turned to kiss him proudly, hearing Sherlock murmur something about his Old Plod.

"Oh wait, it's starting," Sherlock said suddenly as his eyes averted to the telly. He wrapped an arm around his bride, noting that the live background acoustic music had begun. A brief silence fell over the small group as first their officiant appeared on screen, then was followed by Sherlock, flanked by his mum on one side, and his dad on the other.

"Aw look at our little princess," Sherlock said affectionately, as Rosie appeared in the frame in a pretty little floral print dress, and executing her role as flower girl with adorable perfection. John sat quietly, chuckling to himself and admiring his little girl on the screen, as she pranced down the aisle, taking her job so very seriously.

"Oh my, here come the boys," Molly giggled. "Oh, they did so well, I was so worried too. Scott only landed on his bum once and didn't even drop the pillow," she noted. They watched as the twins strutted their stuff, Scott becoming distracted as Rosie stood at the front waving at him. As he landed on his bottom and got back up again without missing a beat, he just caught Johnnie's arm as his brother attempted to make a dash for it towards Philip Anderson, who sat at the front, sideways and facing the aisle, holding a happy wiggly baby Greer.

"Well that wasn't much of a shock," Greg said lightly, chuckling at Johnnie, the twin who had always seemed most attentive to their baby sister. "At least Scott seemed to take things quite seriously, until he was distracted by a pretty girl." He cleared his throat, raising an amused eyebrow as Molly snorted.

"Like father, like son," Molly said, giving her husband a light jab to the ribs.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft. What an unlikely pair you were, Hudders," Sherlock chuckled. Mrs. Hudson simply smiled as she appeared on the screen, escorted by Sherlock's one and only brother. They watched, slightly aghast, as Mycroft, having completed his journey up the aisle with Mrs. Hudson, took her hand and with a gentlemanly bow, kissed her hand before releasing her to take their places at the front.

"He was fine after I spiked his tea with scotch," she said casually. "Of course, that was after I caught him spiking it himself. It's hardly any wonder he was jovial. He was positively charming after that. I don't think I've seen him smile that much in the entire time I've known him. He's certainly never kissed my hand. Or anyone's that I'VE ever seen"

Sherlock couldn't disagree there. At one point he had wondered who that man was and what had he done with his aloof and starchy older brother, especially when Mycroft had taken it upon himself to "cut a rug" with every lady in the wedding party at least once, and twice as many times with his new sister-in-law.

Of course, the revelation of the scotch in the tea had done wonders to loan explanation to Mycroft's unusual behaviour.

Mycroft, for his part, knowing of the special screening that evening at 221B and aware that he was decidedly welcome to join them and very much included in that dreadful bloody footage, was not surprisingly too "busy" to attend.

The "British Government" may have been able to alter video evidence of Sherlock executing Charles Magnussen, but it held no power whatsoever over Sally Donovan's wedding footage of Mycroft appearing decidedly festive... and nor did he even dare to attempt it.

"Look, here come John and Molly," Sally said suddenly, smiling over towards her maid of honour as she appeared on screen with Sherlock's best man. "Oh love, you were gorgeous. That colour looks so good on you."

"Yeah, and Molly looked pretty nice too," John said with dry humour, prompting Molly to whack him with a sofa cushion. "Watch, watch, listen the music is getting louder, here they come!"

"I still can't believe you convinced me to walk Sally down the aisle playing a bloody guitar," Greg said to Molly. "Seriously honey, Canon fingerstyle isn't easy and you wanted me to do it in motion with a bride glued to my arm?" Greg smiled to himself at the memory of what exactly it was that Molly had done to convince him. He recalled being a particularly hard sell that day, so Molly had had to repeat her argument a few times.

Greg hadn't been the least bit surprised when Sherlock had asked John to be his best man, but when Sally had asked him to walk her down the aisle and give her away, he had been floored before he had regained his composure and accepted with a teasing crack, saying, "Oh thank God, I've been trying to get rid of you for YEARS!"

"Oh, there you are," Molly said, pointing to the screen. "You did beautifully darling. See, you CAN walk and chew gum at the same time," she teased.

"Yes, and apparently I can play a guitar and give a bride away while walking and chewing gum as well," Greg said, grinning at his wife. Sally just glanced at them and sighed happily.

"I can't believe she convinced you to do that either. Everyone knows Sherlock is musical, but you were Baker Street's best kept secret," Sally pointed out. Greg gave her a crooked smile and shook his head, thinking to himself that the title actually belonged to John Watson and his tenor vocals, before turning his attention back to the screen.

"Ah, what a stunning bride though," Sherlock said, giving Sally a loving squeeze. "I felt like the luckiest man alive that day."

"She did clean up pretty nicely," Greg noted, giving a sideways glance to Sally, who made a face at him in return.

"Well, you bloody WERE lucky, Git," Sally responded, "and as for you," she said, swinging another pillow in Greg's direction, "I hardly recognized you without your five o'clock shadow. Had to have been a special occasion if you went to the trouble of shaving."

"Well, Molly made me," Greg responded with a mock pout. "Said it wouldn't do for me to walk you down the aisle looking like I'd spent the night on a park bench with John and Sherlock sleeping off the pub crawl."

"I still say you could have whispered," John said, firing a bitter look at Greg at the memory of the morning after his own stag pub crawl with Sherlock, which had, to his retrospective dismay, been repeated the morning of Sherlock's nuptials. It hadn't been one of their more stellar moments when John had married Mary, and it sure as hell wasn't this time either when Sherlock was set to marry Sally - in spite of the fact that this time, they'd been joined by Greg for the nocturnal imbibing festivities.

If John thought either time that Greg had enjoyed seeing their misery just a smitch too much, he was probably right. Even now, he insisted that Greg's capacity to consume and metabolize alcohol more effectively than them was due to his having done it for more than a decade longer than they had. Greg pointed out that he had simply done the responsible thing and only drank one pint for every two they had slammed back.

"Well at least this time we didn't pursue the folly of 'clueing for looks' on a case whilst floor licking piss drunk, and this time we had a chaperone," Sherlock said lightly. "A designated adult." He grinned towards Greg at the memory of the novelty of having someone there who had possessed some semblance of maturity. "You know it never hurts to have someone with adulting skills who also possesses a detective rank and a warrant card. It prevents things from becoming out of hand."

"Well, don't think I wasn't acting on Sally's orders," Greg said. "Detective Inspector may outrank Detective Sergeant, but Sally Donovan as a bride outranks everyone. Have you ever seen her pissed off?" he asked, casually. "I've seen her pissed off. It's not for the faint of heart, let me tell you."

Sally rolled her eyes at her boss. They were out of pillows on the sofa, so she settled for whipping one of Rosie's stuffed toys at him. Greg caught it easily and fired it back.

"Ah, there, everyone is in place," Molly said, as she watched Greg hand his guitar to Philip, now standing with Greer held easily in one arm, and primed for assisting Greg with childcare duty. Greg remained standing in place for a few moments until asked who was giving the bride in marriage, said his line with happy ease, and gratefully sat down out of what he believed to be camera-shot, next to the re-instated forensics tech to keep the Baker Street brood wrangled.

The video continued, the ceremony continuing through the treasured rituals and vows, the procession back down the aisle with minimal incident – Rosie taking Johnnie and Scott's hands to escort them and taking it upon herself to keep them from going on the lam. Scott seemed happy to have Rosie's attention; Johnnie simply wanted to follow his daddy, who now carried Greer. The random candid shots of the guests, John's Best Man's speech - nowhere near as iconic and interesting as Sherlock's had been at his own wedding - and the first dance, serenaded by John and Greg, much to everyone's surprise but Molly's.

The small group assembled at 221B sat back with a casual air, reveling in the memories of witnessing and assisting two most unlikely friends in an most unlikely pairing, making most surprising promises to each other.