The ride to Royal Albert Hall was taking longer than expected. It was technically only 20 minutes away, but the waves of traffic all fighting to get to the same place made the streets hell to maneuver through. Sherlock blew out of huff of frustration. John and Mary seemed content to just sit back and wait patiently, although John had continued to gush his thanks for this evening. Mary only nodded in agreement but said nothing. The cabbie, for his part, just sat there and watched the meter charges steadily climb.

His mind was awhirl with what was going to happen tonight. Out of the corner of his eyes, he couldn't help to appreciate seeing John in his tuxedo. Instead of the standard black, John was in a tuxedo that was a dark midnight blue that seemed to shine under the streetlights as they passed. The lapels were cut in a slightly lighter blue satin, with the bowtie and peeking handkerchief matching exactly. The cut was exquisite, hugging John's broad shoulders lovingly. He couldn't help the thought flittering across his mind that he couldn't wait to get out of this bloody cab because if he looked this good right now, he could only imagine how that tuxedo sculpted itself around his bum, no doubt made firm by all the running they did. He quickly shook that thought out of his head. He had other things, more important things, to focus on at the moment. If everything went well, he could revisit this line of thinking later on when he would have both the time and permission to explore it further. A small shiver ran down his spine in anticipation, until Sherlock forced himself to FOCUS!

Once they were within a few blocks, Sherlock decided to just jump out the cab and walk the rest of the way. John and Mary just stared at him in surprise. After the shock wore off, they both made to scoot out of the cab after Sherlock, but he put a hand up to stop them.

"No, you stay here. I'm just going to make sure things are in order. Our seats, and all that." he said, hoping he sounded convincing enough. He took out his billfold and handed the cabbie a handful.

John, knowing Sherlock the way he did, didn't believe him for one second. But before he could say anything about it, Mary just curled her arm around John's and pulled him back deeper into the cab. Sherlock forced a smile at the couple, when every instinct inside of him wanted to rip her hands off of John and throw her in front of a bus.

But he knew, as John would say, that was a 'bit not good.'

Slamming the cab door shut he spun around and headed towards the concert hall. He waited until he was out of sight of the cab before pulling his mobile out of his pocket. He was surprised to see a text waiting for him.

Is everything ready to your satisfaction, dear brother? – MH

Sherlock rolled his eyes. But Mycroft had helped him so he decided to humor him.

I'm about to get my final conformations on the matter. – SH

After a moment, he decided to bait him a bit for sport.

Are you sure you don't want to attend? I hear that some of the greatest bakers in London are showing off their prowess in the kitchen for the after party. And I know how much you adore cake. – SH

The response was almost immediate, and he could almost hear the condescending tone in the message.

I shan't be able to attend, but not to worry. I have access to all the CCTV feeds surrounding the area. My absence will not cause me to miss your triumph…. or your failure. – MH

Sherlock gritted his teeth and almost smashed his phone with his bare hands. Only his brother could rile him up with only a few words. No matter. He would deal with the insufferable bastard later. He pocketed his mobile once again, and headed forward.

…

John and Mary had finally made their way inside the great hall. Crowds of people, all dressed in their finest, milled around and caused a low buzzing with their conversations. They had worried at first that they weren't going to be able to find their seats, until they had asked an usher for help. They followed behind him in shock when they learned that they actually had a private box reserved just for them. Mary just squealed in delight when she finally took her seat behind the heavy curtains that blocked the entrance to their box. John just kept looking around, still not sure they were in the right place. It took some convincing but Mary finally coaxed him to just relax and enjoy the evening.

Determined to do so, he relaxed in the deep seats that were almost too comfortable to be believable. He only half listened to Mary's commentary as she continually pointed out the different gowns that other women were wearing. He assumed that he had been nodding in all the right places because Mary just kept prattling on and on. But then a sudden thought came to him.

"Where's Sherlock?"

Mary only half-glanced at him. "Oh I'm sure he's somewhere dear." she remarked. "Knowing him, he's probably in an alley somewhere behind the hall trying to chase a thief or something."

The thought struck John harder than it should have. He immediate reached for his mobile. Unlocking the home screen, he started to send Sherlock a message. That is, until Mary snatched it from his hands.

"Oi! What did you do that for?"

"Because you can't just enjoy one night with me without worrying about that overgrown child."

John stiffened then started to bristled at Mary. "You know; I'm getting tired of all your remarks towards Sherlock. We're here tonight because of him. I assumed that you would feel grateful for his thoughtfulness. What is your problem with him anyway?"

Mary turned to face John fully. "Since you really want to know, I'm getting tired of him keeping you out late constantly and making you do dangerous things just to satisfy his need to be reckless." She patted his hand the way a mother would pat a child. "You should be home with me."

John stood up then and scowled at Mary. "I enjoy our time together Mary, but you knew this is what I did when we started seeing each other." he pointed out.

"Yes. But I assumed it was because he didn't have anything better to do with your free time. Boys being boys, and all that. I naturally assumed that it would all stop when we decided to get married."

"I never said that!" John protested.

"True. I guess that it's my fault then for not being clear in my expectations."

"So you're saying," John asked incredulously, "that you expect me to just STOP everything, just because we're getting married?"

"I didn't want to come out and say that outright, but since you did…" Mary replied, letting the implications speak for themselves.

John felt the heat slowly consume him and felt his face flush in his anger. How dare she? He loved her, yes. But he never agreed to stop seeing Sherlock. And he knew that he never would, for her or anyone else. He was his best friend, after all. At times it felt like it was more than that but he had always brushed that thought aside and blamed it on exhaustion from a case, or whatever else was convenient at the time to blame it on.

Just as he was about to make that point known VERY LOUDLY, the lights in the hall dimmed, signaling that the concert was about to start. Mary, seemingly unaware of the fuse she just lit, tried shushing John and tried pulling him back to his seat. John firmly refused and turned towards the heavy curtains.

"Where do you think you are going?" Mary harshly whispered.

"To find Sherlock." He ground out in reply.

Before she could say anything in protest, another usher quietly pushed his way through the curtains into the box.

"Dr. Watson?" he asked.

John just blinked in surprise. "Yes. Can I help you?" His first thought was that Sherlock was in trouble somewhere and this man was sent to fetch him. He held his breath until the man simply handed him an envelope.

"I was told to bring this to you."

John took the envelope in confusion and simply stared at it for a moment. His manners automatically took over before he could do anything else.

"Erm, thank you." he replied before looking up. When he finally did, the man was gone.

He turned to look at Mary who also had a puzzled look in her face. "John, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm not sure." he murmured. He quickly tore the envelope open and removed a small note care nestled inside. It took his eyes a moment to focus in the now dim lighting. Once they did, he could easily read the short message written there, and a meticulous handwriting that John would recognize anywhere.

Sherlock's handwriting.

Stop worrying about my absence John. As always you are predictable. My attention is being used rather creatively at the moment to further progress this evening. Just sit down and enjoy the show. My presence will be made soon enough. Sherlock

"Everything all right?" Mary asked again.

John barely looked at her as he stuffed the card back in the envelope and then put the envelope in his inner jacket pocket. "Yeah, everything is fine. Just Sherlock. He said he'll be here soon enough."

Mary just smiled, letting John know instantly that she didn't really care where Sherlock was or what he was up to. He absentmindedly sat down and allowed Mary to wrap her arm around his. She seemed totally oblivious to the thought swirling in John's mind. She was only interested in the concert, and now that John was sitting beside her again, all was right again in her tiny little world.

John glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, completely baffled by her selfish behavior. How had he not seen it sooner? They say love is blind. He now realized how true that was.

As the music began, he kept himself occupied with his own thoughts. Could he really spend his life with someone who didn't give a thought to others? He thought back through all her wedding planning and realized that this facet of her personality had always been there, he had just been too blind to see it.

He needed someone who understood his need to run through the streets with his adrenaline pumping. Not only because he enjoyed the thrill of the chase but because it made him feel useful. His time at the clinic helped that feeling also but it was nowhere the same as catching the scum of London and making it safer. Being sent home from the military had almost broken him, until he was introduced to Sherlock and they started working on cases together. Why couldn't she just accept him the way he was and not try to make him what she thought he should be? Why couldn't she be more like Sher-…..?

That thought halted all thoughts in his head. He began to look around to see if he could find Sherlock in the massive crowd. He wanted to speak to him NOW.

Mary, in all her selfish cluelessness, had no idea of the revelation in John's head.