Hey look it's Saturday...*mumbles about it being several weeks late* but it's still Saturday. Now in my defense I would have had this up sooner but my laptop reset in the middle of me typing it up and one of the updates had turned off the auto-save I thought I had on. So guess who lost half a chapter and spent weeks moaning over what was the most beautiful piece of writing I'd ever done? You guessed it, me.
Thankfully for me and all of you, my beta has more sense then the wailing author and told me to write it again, better. I don't know if it's better, but I will say I am very pleased with the end result.
I also didn't have the time as my husband went out town for Dragon-Con and because I couldn't get all the time off I needed to go with him, guess who stayed home and watched the two year-old? You guess right again, me! So, deepest and sincerest apologies and I hope the massive amounts of fluff in this chapter make up for it.
Without further ado, Chapter Five (or as I've been calling it my head, "in which the author went so long without writing she forgot how to use commas!" Sheesh!)
Thanks Old Ping Hai!
"John..." Sherlock whined, throwing himself back against the passenger seat of their rental car.
John chuckled. "It's a surprise. They aren't meant to be deduced," he reminded him.
"Yes, but did you have to get Mycroft involved?" the detective continued to whine.
"I wouldn't have been able to get anything past you otherwise. Besides, it's not so bad; it's not as though he is coming with us or anything."
Sherlock shuddered, and a warm silence settled on them as the scenery slipped by. Sherlock looked over at John, and his grumpy expression slowly melted away.
"Could you at least explain why we are taking a road trip in the middle of January?"
"Not the middle of January, the end," John said, his eyes still on the road.
"What's the difference?"
"Tomorrow is the 29th," John said, turning briefly to smile at Sherlock before returning his eyes to the front.
Sherlock frowned for a moment as he went through his mind palace. He sat up abruptly and clapped his hands together. "Oh!"
He reached for John's cheek and kissed it soundly, causing John to swerve a bit on the road. But once he had righted them, he chuckled.
"I knew you'd get it," he said fondly.
"The day we met," Sherlock said with a grin.
"Yep! Seven years. I take Mike out for a pint every once in a while just as a thank you."
Sherlock's grin threatened to split his face. "I, too, occasionally do nice things for the good doctor."
"Oh?"
"Mhmm...just last week, I lectured to his class about exotic poisons. Mike said it was a success. No one fell asleep."
John laughed. "That one is always the hardest not to sleep through. I'm glad you made it interesting."
"It wasn't that difficult," Sherlock said, with a shrug.
The rest of the drive was spent in companionable silence. Sherlock had started to doze and relax back in his seat, when the countryside became very familiar.
"John, what are we doing in Sussex Downs?" he said, turning in his seat to look at his lover.
"You'll see," John replied with a smirk.
John was only half way up the drive when Sherlock figured out where they were and leapt out of the car. As John wasn't going very fast, he just shook his head as he continued to drive the rest of the way up to the house.
Sherlock had already deduced where the spare key was, and the front door stood wide open.
John got out of the car and closed both doors before heading for the boot. He pulled out their luggage. A large army duffle for him and a sleek leather overnight bag for Sherlock.
He lugged them up to the cottage Janine had bought with her tabloid money. He left Sherlock to do his exploring like that mongoose in that story he read once as a boy, popping in and out the rooms, leaping over furniture, and opening every drawer and cupboard.
He put their clothes in the dresser in the bedroom and their toiletries in the adjoining bathroom.
John moved to the fully stocked kitchen, where he began to make them tea. Once it was through steeping, he added milk to his and sugar to Sherlock's. He sat down in the sitting room and settled to wait.
Sure enough, not five minutes had gone by when Sherlock appeared at John's elbow to take his tea.
He sat in the chair next to John's. "This place is better than the pictures she showed me. It really is a shame she's renting it out to anyone wanting to get out of the city. Could you imagine some yuppie couple in here, frowning at everything?"
John chuckled into his mug. "I think Janine is a little more discerning than that, Sherlock."
Sherlock sighed. "It really is lovely, John. Thank you for bringing me."
"My pleasure, love."
The next day saw Sherlock in the reading room pouring over books on how to take care of the hives that were still on the property, and John pacing in the bedroom, muttering to himself and clutching an envelope to his chest.
John looked up at the clock, took a deep breath and marched into the reading room. Sherlock looked up from his book and gave John a curious glance and tilt of his head.
"I know it's not Bart's. The place where it all began, but I wanted it to be here. The place of our- I'm getting ahead of myself." He got down on one knee and smiled up at Sherlock.
"I wanted more than a ring for this. More than a piece of jewelry, I wanted something more meaningful." He handed Sherlock the envelope and said, "Sherlock Holmes, will you do me the honor growing old with me? To spend the rest of our days together, either here or at Baker Street. Say you'll bind yourself to me in the most significant way possible. William Sherlock Scott Holmes, will you marry me?"
Sherlock had opened the letter to reveal the deed to the cottage they were sitting in, with John's signature next to his name and a blank space for Sherlock to put his.
His hand was pressed to his lips and tears ran down his cheeks to pool around his fingers before tracing over the delicate lines of his hand.
Sherlock removed his hand from his mouth. "Yes," he cried. "God yes!" He put the deed on the side table and proceeded to snog the living daylights out of his newly betrothed.
"Until the end of days," Sherlock whispered when they came up for breath.
"Forever," John agreed.
A week later Sherlock swanned into Molly's lab at St. Bart's. The pathologist looked up at him and smiled.
"Someone looks happy today," she said, as she went back to the sample she had been inspecting. "Things are going well with John, then?"
Sherlock laughed. "I'll say, my John is quite the romantic."
"So you've said. In front of fifty or so wedding guests at his wedding to someone else," she said wryly.
"And I'll say so again in front that many of our own wedding guests," he said.
Molly looked up to see his wide, cheeky grin.
"Are you serious?" she asked.
He nodded, and she stripped off her gloves and hugged him. He awkwardly patted her back.
"That's fantastic, Sherlock. I'm so happy for you."
"Thank you. I have something to ask you," he said, biting his lip.
She stepped back and eyed him warily. "What would be so important Sherlock Holmes had to ask in person and not just send a text?"
"I need a best man and the only person who I would even consider to fill that slot, I'm marrying, so..." Sherlock said ducking his head.
"Why don't you ask Greg?" she asked.
"He told me that when I got with John that if we got married, he didn't want to be anywhere near the bridal party. He wanted to film the whole thing."
Molly laughed. "I don't know; then Mike, maybe?"
"Um...no. He doesn't have John's patience."
"Oh, um... I don't know who else you can ask. I'd say your brother, but..."
Sherlock laughed. "No." He grabbed her by the arms and looked her in the eye. "I don't need a best man, Molly. I need a maid of honor and there is only one person who can fill that slot. You."
She blinked twice. "Oh." She blinked again as she processed his request.
She hugged him again. "Of course I will! I'd be honored." Then she giggled. "Honored to be the maid of honor."
"Molly..." Sherlock groaned.
"Right, sorry."
Sherlock dug out his wallet and removed a business card. He handed it to her. "Give him a call if you don't already have his number. He'll help you with anything you might need."
She took the card. It read: Detective Inspector G. Lestrade.
"Sherlock..." she said, her tone carrying a heavy warning.
"He's interested in you, Molly. He just thinks you won't be interested in him as he is neither a genius nor tall with dark, curly hair."
She blushed and then pushed at him gently. "One healthy, happy relationship and suddenly you're an expert?"
"The man I set Janine up with at the...'other' wedding, they got back together after..." he coughed, "well anyway, they married. Last month, in fact."
"Really?" Molly asked.
Sherlock nodded.
"Wow." She looked at the card in her hand. "Did you go?"
"No. I'm not a fan of weddings. Besides, I'm an ex-boyfriend. I don't think that would go over very well."
She nodded. "You went to John's wedding, Mr 'I don't go to weddings'," she teased.
"John is special."
He turned to go, but turned back. "Though there is one other person's wedding I'd go to if they ever got married."
Molly laughed as Sherlock walked to the door. "Who's that? Mycroft's?"
He paused at the door. "God no. Wild horses couldn't drag me to the event."
"So, who then?"
"You." He winked at her and then closed the door behind him as she looked on in stunned silence.
Sherlock walked out of Bart's to the street feeling even better than when he went in. He called John.
"Hello, darling," he greeted when John picked up the line.
"I take it it went well," John said with a sigh.
"Of course it did, like there was any doubt," Sherlock said, as he waved down a taxi.
"I wish I had your luck. I just can't think of anyone."
"Bill said no?" Sherlock asked, sliding into the waiting taxi. He gave directions to the cabbie before turning his attention back to his fiancé.
"He's being re-deployed right after and won't have the time to devote to it."
"I'm sorry, John. At least he'll be able to make to the wedding," Sherlock said, trying to console him.
"It's a small consolation. But thank you."
"You could always ask-" Sherlock stopped. "Oh!"
"I know that 'oh', what's up, love?"
He was perfect. "Mike Stamford."
There was silence on the other end for a moment before, "Oh." It was quiet and a tad reverent.
"That's...that's perfect."
"Very much so. There were four people in that room that fateful day; who better to stand by our side than the other two? Molly and Mike," Sherlock explained.
"I'll call him, now," John breathed. "Hurry home. I want to thank you by shagging you into the sofa."
Sherlock laughed. "I'm on my way."
Just a little note about the chapter: Um... I am very vocal in my dislike of Molly Hooper, especially her portrayal in fan fiction. I'm not her biggest fan. That said; I honestly believe that this who Sherlock would ask to stand up for him at his wedding to John and thus this scene was born. Also I have a really soft spot for Lolly. As much as I love, LOVE, LOVE Mystrade, this ship is far more likely to take place in canon.