A/N: Sorry! I had this chapter done for a long time, just not typed up and edited (by the wonderful Old Ping Hai, no less). But here it is. I have this other story that is making my muse salivate in anticipation and I want to get this out so I can focus on the other story sans guilt about this one.

I have the next chapter done and started typing up, so hopefully sooner rather than later.

Sherlock looked in the mirror nervously as Molly tried to pin the corsage on his lapel.

"Stop twitching, Sherlock," she admonished.

Sherlock stilled his body, though his hands kept curling and uncurling. Molly finished attaching the mix of white wallflowers and alstroemerias to his chest.

"Separation anxiety?" she asked, stepping back.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. He slowly opened his eyes. "I don't like it. Why couldn't we have got dressed together?"

Molly laughed. "Because you would have never made it out the door and to the chapel."

Sherlock blushed, but couldn't help but grin.

Molly turned to check herself in the mirror; she was wearing a deep blue, sleeveless tea-length dress that had a v-neck top gathered in the front and culminated with a matching flower. Her hair was pulled back away from her face and tied in a pretty bun. Her jewelry was minimal and her makeup light and airy.

"You could have just told me that you were gay," Molly said as she patted her hair.

Sherlock coughed and turned his head. "I'm not the man I was, Molly. It suited my purposes at the time."

She turned around to see him looking ashamed. She sighed. "I know. I'm just shit at timing, aren't I?"

He smiled shyly. "It never was your strong suit."

She laughed.

There was a knock on the door and it opened a crack to reveal the face of Mrs Holmes. Seeing that Sherlock was dressed, she opened the door just enough to slip inside.

She squealed in delight at Sherlock's tux and Molly's dress. "Well don't the two of you make quite the pair."

"Mummy!" Sherlock protested.

She waved her hand at him dismissively. "You knew what I meant, dear."

"You look especially lovely, Molly," Mrs Holmes said.

Molly twirled around, making her dress flare out. When she came to a stop, she said, "Well, your son has good taste."

"He gets it from me."

Sherlock grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

"They're all waiting for us," Mrs Holmes said. Molly started for the door. "Don't forget your bouquet, dear," she reminded the girl.

Molly dashed back to grab it and then smoothed out her dress with her spare hand. "Okay, let's go."

Sherlock nodded and let them exit in front of him. He took a deep breath and then followed them out.

Mike was tempted to ask Greg to borrow a pair of handcuffs. He needed to tether John to something before he wore a hole in the carpet with all the pacing he was doing.

"Mate, please do my inner ear imbalance a favor and sit down," he pleaded.

John's head snapped up and then he blushed. "Oh shit! Sorry, Mike. Nerves, I guess."

"Were you this nervous the first time?" Mike asked, as John sat down across from him.

John's brow furrowed as he thought back to his wedding with Mary. "No."

"Tells you something about who you were marrying, doesn't it?" Mike said, with that same knowing smile from all those years ago when he declared, "Yeah, he's always like that," to a stunned John Watson.

"Were you setting us up? Even then?" John asked, rubbing his hands on his trousers.

Mike shook his head. "Not in the way you mean. Did I think that you two would make a perfect team, sure. But love? Not until he winked at you did I even think that it might tend that way."

"He turned me down the next day!" John objected.

"Well of course did!" Mike said with a laugh. "No one ever treated him like you did, John. He had no idea how long you'd stay."

John blushed. "Like I could leave him after he cured my limp."

"He did damn sight more than that."

John smiled. "Yeah, he did."

There was a yoo-hoo from the other side of the door, and John called out to enter.

Mrs Hudson came in and twittered at John. "I knew it would happen eventually."

John blushed. "You were always better at seeing that sort of thing than I was, " he said, kissing her on the cheek. "Thanks for standing in for my mum."

Now it was Mrs Hudson who blushed. "Oh, it was the least I could do, with Sherlock standing up with his mother. I couldn't leave you standing there with no one."

"You ready, Mrs H?" Mike said, standing up.

"Oh yes. It's just so lovely seeing my boys finally tying the knot."

John hugged her around the shoulders with one arm. "I know."

They walked out to where the wedding party was milling around, waiting for the grooms to arrive. Standing up for Sherlock were Mycroft and Wiggins. Mycroft wore the most sour expression having to stand next to the drug-addicted chemist. They were both in tuxedos with waistcoats that matched Molly's dress.

Standing up for John were Bill Murray and James Sholto. Both men wore dress blues: Bill because he was still active duty, and James because he was gifted the honor. Both looked sharp, and Bill was engaging James in conversation, drawing him out of his shell. Mike and John weren't in blues; with Mike not having any, they opted for the groom and best man in military-inspired suits to match the other groomsmen.

John and Sherlock arrived at the group at the same time. They spotted each other and smiles lit up their faces.

It was time.

"This is your last chance to elope," Sherlock whispered to John as everyone arranged themselves.

"What, and miss Molly giving the best man speech? Never!" John said with a laugh.

Sherlock grinned and then turned to lead the procession into the hall they had rented for the occasion.

Sherlock and John stood in front of the official performing the ceremony, waiting for him to begin. They stared at each other like the other was a gift and a revelation, their perfect fit.

"John," Sherlock began. "I pledge to remember when running into danger that the most important thing is that you are always with me, even if it means I have to stop and explain. I pledge to try and understand that there are times and places for genius and there are times and places for gentleness. And trusting you to guide me into knowing which is which.

"I never knew that love could be like this. I always assumed that it was a defect found on the losing side. But how could I lose when I'm with you? It's not possible. I have said that you redeemed me, but I have come to realize I didn't need redeeming. I needed someone to understand that while I was unique, I was just like everyone else in needing love. I am fine being who I am."

John choked up. He swallowed harshly to get the lump out of his throat. He needed to be able to speak.

"Sherlock," he said, fighting back tears. "I pledge to understand that there are times when you need to be alone in your mind palace and to not take it personally when you do. I pledge to be by your side through every danger, whether it is the criminal class or the daily pitfalls of daily life.

"I always thought that I wanted a normal life. A wife, children, a white-picket fence. You taught me that I didn't need that. I may have wanted it, but I didn't need it. I needed the life you gave me. You keep saying how much I have saved you, but the real miracle is how much you have saved me. I will probably never know what made you look at me and say to yourself 'he'll do'. But I can't help be grateful that you did."

There were some other mumbled words from the official and the exchanging of rings, then finally after what felt like ages, the official pronounced them husbands and that they could finally kiss.

The kiss was like fireworks, and they broke apart to the cheers of the crowd.

Sherlock and John didn't have a garter or a bouquet, so they made their own things to toss.

John had written in a small leather-bound book all the little things that people had said about him and Sherlock being a couple over the years. From Jeanette's "My friends are so wrong about you. You're a great boyfriend. Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man," to the Cross Keys inn owner asking if Sherlock was a snorer.

He turned around and tossed the book over his shoulder to the crowd of single men. He whirled around to find out who had caught it to see a very stunned Greg Lestrade holding it in his hands. He tried to push it off on someone else but no one else would take it.

John walked up to the Detective Inspector and clasped his shoulder.

"I'm too old for this type of shit, John," Greg wailed.

"Nonsense. If I can get the biggest second chance in the world, who's to say that it can't happen to you, too."

Greg shook his head, but John squeezed his shoulder. "It'll be okay, besides it's just silly superstition, right?"

Greg nodded.

Then it was Sherlock's turn. He pulled out of his jacket the death Frisbee. The deerstalker.

He tossed it over his shoulder as goofy as could be to the crowd of single women. There was a bit of a tussle for it, but Molly emerged victorious.

She held it aloft to the cheering attendees, the biggest grin on her face. Greg looked at the book in his hands and the giddy Miss Hooper and knew he had to take a chance. It was time to be brave.

The next event was the couple's first dance, and Sherlock walked up to the front and cleared his throat.

"As it is coming to be a tradition, I have written a piece for John's first dance. Again."

There was some nervous twittering from the crowd. "I refuse to write another one," Sherlock continued and the nervous twitters became more anxious.

"There won't be another one!" John called out and there were a few laughs.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "As I am unable to play this time since I am John's partner-"

There were a few awws from the throng of people.

"My brother Mycroft has offered to play in my stead."

There was some applause as Sherlock moved out of the way to reveal a seated Mycroft Holmes with a cello between his legs and the sheet music on a stand in front of him.

Sherlock stepped up to John and began the dance.

As the rich sounds of the cello filled the air, Sherlock whispered to John, "It feels different, dancing with you tonight."

John sighed. "I know, it feels deeper, more intimate, somehow."

Sherlock murmured his assent.

John leaned his head on Sherlock's chest and Sherlock placed his head on top of John's.

"Who taught you how to dance this well?" Sherlock asked, a chuckle trying to make itself known.

"You did, you berk."