A/N: Gosh, I'm a terrible person. Cliff hangers and all.
I hope you all enjoy this update, even if it's terribly late and I'm very sorry for that.
Life got in the way of writing again. Sorry!
If it makes anyone feel any better I'm co-writing a Johnlock story which I'll be posting the first chapter to soon.
Hugs!

Finally, it was here: the big day, the wedding of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Sherlock had already dressed in his lovely new black tuxedo, complete with fresh-pressed white shirt, shiny leather shoes, and a blue iris tucked into his lapel. Fussing with the small flower, the detective tried to keep his mind away from his nervous thoughts of getting married in front of a whole bunch of people that he didn't care for. The press had already been outside when he had arrived at the Sandringham House (unfortunately) and that had only added to his anxiety. He wanted to just marry John and get it over with.

'Blue flowers symbolize intimacy, calm feelings, and long-term trust in England's popular culture. Germany's culture believes that blue flowers symbolize inspiration and the desire for the unattainable. All fitting, I suppose, and of course it was Mycroft's idea -'

The detective's thoughts were interrupted as Anthea, Mycroft's long-time assistant, opened the door without preamble and shut it behind her.

"The rings, Mister Holmes," She spoke with her usual bored tone, holding out her hand.

Sherlock pulled a small box out of his pocket and laid it in her palm, looking sour at the reminder that he wasn't allowed to wear his wedding band until the silly ceremony was over with. The small woman left the room, texting as usual, and Sherlock was only able to wait thirty two seconds before he opened the door and quietly made his way down the hall. Peeking around the corner, he froze at what he saw. There were far too many guests in attendance, and quite frankly, the decorations were over the top. The Sandringham House was already beautiful, and Mycroft had absolutely forced someone to throw blue, cream, and yellow on nearly everything in sight.

The detective shook his head, turning back and beginning the retreat into his dressing room at the end of the hall. Opening the door quietly, Sherlock was not altogether surprised to see Mycroft raising his eyebrows at the detective from the seat in front of the mirror as he closed the door behind him, sighing dramatically.

"Ah, little brother. Just like a child, you cannot seem to suppress the urge to look."

Meanwhile, John had just tied his bow tie and slipped his own blue iris into the buttonhole on his lapel, studying himself in the mirror. The black tuxedo looked good, as it was tailored to perfectly match John's body to show off the good parts and hide the bad, also known as his bubble butt. (Much to Sherlock's disappointment when John had mentioned it to him after the last fitting.) The two men had not gotten to see one another in their wedding tuxedos as of yet, and John smiled at the thought of seeing Sherlock at the altar shortly.

A soft knock at the door made him jump, reeling out of his thoughts of Sherlock and the honeymoon they were to leave for in a few hours.

"Come in."

Anthea poked her head in with her normal expressionless face and raised her eyebrows.

"It's time to go get married, Dr. Watson."

The woman smiled ever so slightly as John frantically glanced back into the mirror before nodding, crossing the room to the door.

"Alright then."

The pair walked in silence down a long, beautiful stone hallway before making a right hand turn and pausing before the large arched entrance to the wedding hall, just out of sight.

"You know what to do: wait for the music to change and then join Sherlock."

Without further ado, the small woman left him there as she walked down the foyer a bit and slid into a side door. John looked down at his hands, trying to keep his breathing calm and even as he listened to the music begin to slow. Wiping his damp palms onto his trousers, he let out a deep breath before standing up straight, assuring himself that nothing would go wrong as a new song began.

After all, he was just marrying the most brilliant sociopath in London.

With a smile, he walked forward and turned into the wedding hall.