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Ducks in a Row
Forty four weeks old
John and Mary become husband and wife in the middle of February.
It's a small ceremony that comes with the company of few guests, only the ones that mean the most to the bride and groom. When Sherlock glances around the room that's decorated with lights and tables with white cloths he only counts a dozen.
He's learned Mary doesn't have much when it comes to family, her parents having passed years ago. There are three friends seated at a table in the corner, two of them blonde like she is with kind smiles and one with long black hair and shy eyes. Next is he and Molly, Annabelle on her hip in a bright blue dress everyone seems to have fussed over. He's no clue where they are right now, probably with Mary if he had to guess.
There's Mike and Harry too, spread out across the room along with John's parents. Like he said, small but nice and exactly what John would want. It made the ceremony so much easier.
He was the best man despite his protests.
It's not that he didn't want to really, but the idea of standing in front of everyone and listening to the pastor for however long sounded so dull and boring. But of course, if it was for John than he knew he would do it. Lestrade is there too, chatting to the girl with the dark hair now and smiling a genuine smile that seems to have been absent for much too long.
Deep inside Sherlock is happy for him.
With his fingers curled around the stem of a champagne glass he leans back in his chair, scans the room again and sees John coming toward him with a smile on his face that is so lifting Sherlock can't help but smile back. He comes over and they hug, something that hasn't happened since he made his reappearance but for the moment he doesn't mind.
John eases down in a chair beside him and sighs. "This was nice wasn't it? Quiet enough for you I hope."
Sherlock grins and sets the glass aside, hasn't even taken a sip. He doesn't want anything to cloud his judgment. Can't afford to risk it anymore.
"So, how are you and Molly getting along then?" John breaks the silence with the question Sherlock was waiting for. His eyes shift for a second towards the door where Molly and Mary have just appeared, deep in a conversation.
"We're better." Is his answer, simple and void of emotion, as if he's hiding a truth he doesn't want to face. John frowns but he doesn't push the subject.
But deep inside he worries about his friends, knows that sometimes people are pushed too far and sometimes there's no way back to what they had before. He remembers the first night after they had solves the case, Sherlock had come over and taken over his old bedroom for the night, said he needed time to think.
John and Mary had shared a look of worry but agreed, knew they couldn't turn him away but didn't think it was best for him to ignore the problem. Then again when did Sherlock actually listen to anyone?
That had been two weeks ago and he was back in Molly's flat now, the short time away from Annabelle too much for him. He remembers Molly telling him when they shared a lunch break last week that he barely takes his eyes off of her anymore.
She didn't seem angry at him anymore but there was something in her eyes the doctor couldn't seem to shake. It looked like uncertainty, as if she wasn't completely sure Sherlock was what she had been dreaming about. Of course he had just smiled, told her Sherlock is a better man than he lets on before he went back to work. The conversation never left his mind.
He opens his mouth to offer a reply but the speakers in the room come to life, a slow song drifting out and filling the room with soft music. He offers a good natured groan and stands up.
"Looks like it's time for more dancing," he announces, fanning disappointment. He says goodbye to Sherlock and walks across the floor to his bride, takes her in his arms and kisses her. She's smiles brightly and they seem to melt together, swaying across the floor.
Sherlock watches them and soon he's watching more people crowd the floor. Lestrade and his new friend, John's parents. Involuntarily his gaze travels to Molly who sits at a table to his left with Annabelle in her lap. He bites his lip and internally he groans, but he's so desperate to have his Molly back that he doesn't even complain.
Standing up and straightening his jacket he moves across the floor until he's standing in front of her, hands clasped behind his back. She frowns at him, eyebrows raised.
"Dance with me," he says, holds out one hand and waits for her. She opens her mouth but doesn't actually say anything. Just looks at him. He rolls his eyes and grins.
"Please dance with me? Both of you?" he asks again but this time grabs her hand and brings her to her feet, takes the baby from her arms and carries her to the middle of the floor with everyone else. She giggles despite the tension still resting between them and lets him wrap an arm around her. Annabelle smiles happily between them as they sway.
"I know this doesn't fix things, but I want you to know I'm sorry. Sometimes this life doesn't feel like me, I need a distraction every now and then. And I'll admit that I got sucked in but no more. I'm not going to miss anything else, alright?" he rests his forehead against her, wants her to know that this life means more to him than anything. He wants her to understand.
Molly presses her lips together and looks at him, meeting his green eyes and seeing so much compassion looking back at her. She presses closer against him and rests her head on his shoulder, kisses the top of her daughters head and knows this is forever.