Chapter 2

John watched Sherlock scurry around the flat for the next month, planning their wedding. At first John had tried to help but Sherlock only got testy. So John settled into just answering the odd question Sherlock asked. Such as "What color for the napkins? eggshell or ivory?" or "Roses or Lilies?" John was only allowed to write wedding invitations, because Sherlock never bothered remembering peoples names. He also let John choose the best men. One for him, one for Sherlock. Sherlock didn't have "friends" according to him, so John decided to ask Mycroft. He scheduled an appointment with him one day in February and went in to have one of the most awkward conversations of his life.

John got to Mycroft's office and opened the door to find Mycroft sitting comfortably in his high backed chair, hands folded in his lap, one leg draped elegantly over the other. He gave John a smile that really had no sentiment. Sherlock was an emotional wreck compared to Mycroft. The man could have his leg lopped off and never even flinch. John nervously sat down in an antique looking armchair in the corner of the office. Mycroft looked at him expectedly. John swallowed. "Um, as you know, me and Sherlock are getting, um, married, next month, and we'd like you to consent to be Sherlock's best man." Mycroft sat there, looking even slightly shocked. He cooly said. "My brother obviously doesn't want me as his best man, why would he have sent his fiance to ask if he did?" John coughed. "well, the truth of the matter is, Sherlock doesn't care who I pick, and well, you are his brother." Mycroft smiled almost imperceptibly. "Very well Dr. Watson, or will it be Dr. Holmes?

"We're both keeping our given names. So that's a yes, then?"

Mycroft sighed. "I suppose, yes, I don't believe in the institution of marriage, but neither did Sherlock. Maybe I just havn't met the right man. " John's eyes widened slightly. "So, you're gay too are you?" Mycroft cocked his head. "I don't really know my sexuality. I've never much bothered to figure it out. Relationships are meaningless to me." John knew this was going no where. "Well, I better go tell Sherlock that you'll be his best man. He'll be thrilled."

"Ecstatic."

John smiled at the suave figure behind the desk before hurrying out of the room. That room felt like a place where love goes to die. John took a cab home and walked into the flat to find Sherlock sitting on the floor, licking invitation envelopes, wearing different bits of fabric pinned to his shirt. He looked up and smiled briefly before returning to work. John came in and went to sit down, onyl to be nearly impaled by a pile of sewing needles. He looked up and pointed at the chair. "Sherlock, what are these?" Sherlock looked up as well. "oh, those are needles. I was using them to sew bridesmaid dresses." John was puzzled. "You're sewing bridesmaid dresses?" Sherlock nodded and pointed to his shirt. "I think I like the aquamarine best. You?" John shrugged, but saw a look of desperation on Sherlock's face. "Oh, yes, dear, Aquamarine is gorgeous." Sherlock was satisfied and went back to work. "How was Mycroft? Did he agree to be best man?" John's jaw dropped a little. He never seased to be amazed at Sherlock's deducing skills. "Um, yeah, he did actually." Sherock nodded. "And your best man?"

"I think i'm going to ask Greg." Sherlock was puzzled. "Greg Who?"

"Greg Lestrade."

"Oh, Greg..."

"Why do you constantly forget his name?"

"He's not that important."

"That's a bit cold."

"Hello? High functioning sociopath. What do you expect? Warm and fuzzy?"

John smiled and headed towards the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Oh god, yes"

John put the kettle on and went back into the living room. Sherlock was now furiously flipping through good contrat colors to Aquamarine. John sighed. Sherlock needed to do something else. He flipped through the newspaper. THere was still the same headlines. Bride dies during Wedding. Death by Cyanide Confirmed. No Leads As To How it was Administered. John thought this was the perfect case for Sherlock. He brought the paper over to his stressed dectective, put it in his lap and kissed his forehead. Sherlock picked up the paper. "I'm too busy."

"But you love solving murders!"

'I also love making seating your priorities straight, my dear."

John tried to coax Sherlock.

" Don't you want to make the wedding safe for me?"

"So you're saying you're the bride?"

"If it will make you stop working on centerpieces and do what you love, then yes."

Sherlock looked up and grinned. "Fine. You have now agreed that I am the groom, and that you get walk down the aisle in a veil."

John smiled. Sherlock got up and grabbed his coat. John followed suit after turning off the kettle, still grinning. Sherlock started down the stairs and John followed, stopping, the smile disappearing. "You're not going to actually make me wear a veil, right?" Sherlock turned around and grinned briefly and then walked out the front door. John wasn't amused. "Sherlock I can't wear a bloody veil!"

Sherlock and John headed to where the bride's widow now lived. They knocked on the door, and a very weary,depressed looking young man answered the door. Sherlock gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sherlock Holmes and This is Dr. John Watson. We'd like to help find your fiance's killer." The man was slightly taken abcak that Sherlock Holmes himself was here. He stepped back and let Sherlock and John step in. The two men sat on the sofa, and Sherlock was soon bothered by an orange tabby cat. He shooed it away but it didn't pay him any attention and proceeded to sit on his lap. John laughed and Sherlock sat there looking unhappy. The man, William Hansford, sat down across from them. "Sorry about Ginger." Sherlock looked at John and mouthed Ginger. How original. John gave him a single glare and Sherlock looked back at the man and smiled. "We were so sorry to hear about your fiance, Samantha. The man nodded and looked down. "Is there anyone who would have had motive to kill Samantha?" William looked up. "No, nobody. Everyone loved her. She was the kindest person I've ever met, and the most beautiful."

"Who would know what Samantha did right before the wedding?"

"Um, her maid of honor, Trisha."

"Very well, we will go see her, and leave you be."

William nodded and went to show them to the door. Sherlock picked the cat up and dropped it on the floor. It scampered away as Sherlock's coat came swirling up. The two left the small house and called a cab.

John looked at Sherlock curiously. "What are you thinking about?"

Sherlock looked at John with no amusment. "He didn't do it. He was heartbroken. I can't imagine how he feels." John looked away. He knew exactly how William felt. Sherlock remembered John's experience and took his hand. "I am so sorry I did that to you, John." John looked at Sherlock's bright eyes and kissed him. "It's alright. I know now that you won't leave me again." Sherlock smiled. "Too true." They got out of the cab and stared at the shop they were in front of. It was a florist. They looked in and saw the woman they were looking for. THey casually strolled in. "Trisha?" The young woman looked up. "Yes? Can I help you?" John did the talking this time. " Yes, we're here about Samantha's death." Trisha looked sad. "What about it?" John put on a kindly face. "We know this is hard for you but did Trisha do anything before the wedding that would have gotten the poison in? Drink a little to calm her nerves, maybe? Smoke? " Trisha shook her head. "No, nothing. She was as calm as could be and happy." John shook her hand. "Thank you for your help." Trish a smiled. "Who are you?"

"John Watson."

"Goodbye John Watson."

"Goodbye."

Sherlock stalked out of the shop, John close on his heels. "What's wrong?" SHerlock spun around. "She was flirting with you!"JOhn laughed. "No she wasn't! She was married!" Sherlock glared. "Yes, I obviously know that!"

"Then calm down!"

"Fine." The two got back in their waiting cab and drove back to Baker street in silence. John got out first, and headed upstairs. Sherlock followed. "I'm sorry, John. I don't mean to be accusing but I was never able to show my jealousy before now." John grimaced.

"I just love you so much, anyone who even dares look at you makes me angry. Not to mention I don't know how the bride could have died."

John's face softened. "It's alright. Let's forget the case for now and get back to the wedding. The case doesn't seem to be much of a good subtitute for wedding stress."

Sherlock grinned. "Let's get to work."