John walked into the room where his parents and sister were waiting to go into dinner. He did notice Henry and a woman on the other side of the room but now the only person he wanted to talk to was his mother. He hadn't spoken to her since he left for Afghanistan. She probably didn't even know he was here. Seeing the ginger bob he called home, he quickened his pace. When he tapped her on the shoulder, she gave a monumental shriek.
"John!" she turned round and grabbed his round the waist. It was easy to see where Harry had got her strength.
"Mum…" he stared around at the alarmed faces that surrounded him then shrugged and embraced his mother warmly.
"I'm never letting you go. When did you get here? Why didn't you call?" she said into John's jumper, the sound slightly muffled.
"Let the boy breath." John's father placed a hand on his son's shoulder when his mother let go.
"Good to see you again, son."
"You too, Dad."
Harry joined the three with a huge smirk all over her face.
"Who's this Sarah that Harry's been telling me about? Is she here?"
"No." replied John, slightly awkwardly. "She's got a conference to go to. Couldn't make it. But she does send her love."
"What a nice girl." crooned his mother, obviously satisfied. "So who did you bring?"
"My new best friend. His name is Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. He's a detective. We worked together."
"Isn't he the guy who's in your blog?"
"Yep. That's him. Should I go and get him? He's outside."
"Yes, dear."
John exited through the big oak doors he had entered through. Sure enough, on the other side was a tired but clean looking Sherlock. His black curls drooped but were newly washed. His coat was hanging off his skinny frame but he had dusted it down so it was presentable. His eyes were shadowed and his skin was pale (well paler) but he looked eager and a small spark was dancing in each silver eye. John hadn't seen his this excited for a while.
"I can meet them now?" he assumed
"Yep. Come on"
They stepped through the doors and everyone turned to look at them. This hadn't happened when John had come in before.
"John." Harry's voice rang out. "You didn't tell us he was hot."
"Yes, son." To John's surprise, said his mother. "Next time give a warning."
Sherlock's expression was surprised. He hadn't expected such a reaction from some related to John. Heat rushed to his cheeks, giving them an unusual pinkish tinge. So it was slightly ironic when his eyes latched on the only girl he had ever loved. Unfortunately, she was stood next to the man John had informed him was Henry. The groom. She must be his bride.
Dammit, Irene.