"I don't want to."
"You've only been trying for three minutes."
"It's too difficult. It's ridiculous and trite. You already know what I'd say and I don't see why you're subjecting me to this."
"Most fiancés just do this without complaining, you know. Especially ones who put up with body parts in the fridge."
Sherlock groaned and hit his head on the coffee table in front of him repeatedly. "I can't write an ounce of romance, John. I beg you, don't ask this of me."
"I'm not asking, I'm demanding. And it's not meant to be romantic—it's a promise of love and trust that's meant to last a lifetime. It's my insurance policy," John half-joked, hiding a worried smile.
Sherlock couldn't help but notice. "You're nervous. You think I'm not going to go through with it."
"Go through with what, dear?" John faked ignorance.
"You think I won't marry you."
The accusation hung there in the parlor of 221B. Sherlock didn't look away from John's surprised gaze. He continued, "You're afraid I won't acclimate to the marriage and I'll leave you. It's ridiculous, of course. You have nothing to worry about."
"I think you'll find it's not an uncommon thing for a fiancé to worry about," John sighed, dropping next to Sherlock on the couch and raking a hand through Sherlock's hair. "You're bound to get bored. I'm bloody well terrified. And you've been acting more distant than usual lately."
"Oh, that? That's not because of the wedding."
"What is it, then? Tell me how I can help."
Sherlock considered letting John know what was on his mind but decided against it. It seemed too crazy when uttered aloud, and he needed to work out a few things first. All data had to be considered. "You can help by just being happy, John. I want to marry you. I don't want a wedding, but I want a marriage, and I will sit through all the overly floral state occasions I have to in order to claim that I'm your husband. Problem with that?" he asked with a steely glare that John saw straight through.
The ex-Army Doctor just chuckled and kissed Sherlock's forehead. "Take-away tonight, love?"
"My visitors are bringing something. Set the table for three extra, if you will."
John rolled his eyes and did as he was told, leaving Sherlock to wrap himself up in his blue dressing gown and think. There was something he was missing, something that had been missing since Pete's World and traveling with the Doctor. As soon as he'd stepped onto the TARDIS after the Doctor had saved John from Moriarty.
Part of his brain was tugging at him, nagging him to remember that there was a part he wasn't remembering, that part of him was somewhere else.
Before he could overanalyze it, a yearned-for wheeze sounded in the room and a familiar blue box landed in the middle of the room.
"Hullo!" a voice called from within. "We brought Kaldeesian—it's sort of like Mexican and Chinese food had a baby that a squid gave birth to, but you know, if you like spice, it's quite good, and we're in the mood for a bit of zap!"
"Doctor!" John yelled, throwing open the TARDIS doors and hugging the man around his odd, brightly colored boxes. "It's been years! How have you been?!"
"It's been years? Really? It's only been months for me—whoops!" the Doctor ushered River out with more food and they set everything at the table. "Clara, darling, come on out! Meet Sherlock Holmes and his dearly beloved blogger, John Watson!"
Clara, being a good companion, didn't reveal how exciting it was to meet the famous literary duo and simply shook Sherlock's hand politely. On seeing John, however, she remembered more about her past and her face fell.
John did a double-take when he saw her. "Clara? Clara Oswald?"
"H-Hi, John," she mumbled weakly. "It's been awhile."
The Doctor inspected the moment. "You two know each other? Watson, I swear, if you dated my own daughter, I will—"
"Daughter?" John asked. "She's your daughter? This is Lyra? But she was just a baby! She—oh, bloody time travel."
"We'll explain when you do," River said, joining the Doctor in a disapproving glare. "Did you go out with Clara?"
"Mum!" Clara shook her head. "I miscounted how many past lives I've had. This is my fourth—my last one was a few years ago. I…was married to John's sister, Harry."
The Doctor spluttered on his own spit and prompted fainted. River took him by the shoulders and dragged him to the couch before digging in. "Try not to shock your father, sweetie—he's getting ever so old."
Sherlock looked positively fascinated by the time they'd gotten through their explanation. "Brilliant. A Time family with a computer file daughter who regenerates in different human forms. Oh, it's Christmas."
John had given up on the weirdness of Harry's marriage to Clara long ago, but the Doctor hadn't. "You were married to his sister?" he mumbled to her, earning a slap from River.
"Does it really matter who she fancies? You had a thing for Jack Harkness, as I remember."
"So did you, honey."
"And for Madame Vastra, too—what a lady," River sighed. "I was ever so disappointed when she married Jenny, even though we could never be together."
"Stop teasing."
"Make me."
"I think I will, later."
"I'll make room in my schedule."
"You'll make room in other places, too."
"Oh, is that so…?"
Clara shrieked at her parents. "You two—your daughter is sitting right here. Please. I am begging you, just stop. And Doctor, my last regeneration copy was married to Harry, but they got a divorce after two years and then I got in a nasty car crash." She cringed. "Then I woke up and I was a baby again, and I grew up to be me, this time around. Nothing to worry about. Thought we should avoid seeing Harry around here, since that wouldn't be fair to her."
John nodded. "I can deal with that. She's off on some soul vacation, anyway. Besides, Doctor, we sort of have news of our own."
The Doctor looked away from his suggestive whispers with River and beamed. "Congratulations on the upcoming wedding, boys—I hope I'm invited! I love dancing at weddings! Wait—I'll need to get you a wedding present. I'll be back!"
He sprang out of his chair and went to the TARDIS, which he fired up and took away to some unknown time or place.
River chuckled after him. "He is such an idiot. I'm very excited for you two. So, what are you up to, then? Wedding plans?"
"Horrid proceedings. Mycroft's taken over," Sherlock complained to John's chagrin. But he couldn't help himself. "The only manageable business was picking out rings. I had such fun with the mineral composition of the ring selections."
"I know this is hard to believe," John said, "but he actually proposed to me, not the other way around."
"I've been there, sweetie," River agreed. "How did Sherlock propose?"
John smiled at the memory. "Oh, it was romantic, in his own way. But he acted so odd for the weeks leading up to it. Almost too normal. He had people cover my shift at surgery and invited me to the morgue for a quick lunch date."
Clara wrinkled her nose. "Morgue?"
"He's a—well, he needs bodies," John explained. "I found my own case to solve down there, and I had to run all over London to find him through these infuriating notes he left."
"They weren't infuriating. They were clever. Lestrade approved the idea, you know."
"Well, in any case, it led me right back to St. Bart's, on the roof, which was an almost sick joke," he said with an edge of weariness. "Taking me to the place of your faked suicide? Maybe the worst idea ever. But he made up for it with all the candles he had—it was night by then, since the notes took forever to solve—"
"It was meant to happen at sunset, but you took too long!"
"He actually sent texts to find out what was taking me. Honestly. But anyway, there were all these candles and he stood there in the middle of them all, and he played a song for me on his violin and delivered an impassioned speech about how he was sorry for all the times he'd caused me pain because of what he did on the roof all those years ago, but he promised never to hurt me like that again and to protect me." He got a little teary and everyone at the table could see that he only had eyes for Sherlock, who had turned pink at the repetition of the story. "He told me he had something to jump for that day, but for the same reason, he would never jump or put himself in danger again, because he had someone to look after. And he asked me to marry him."
There was silence after that, with John gazing lovingly at Sherlock and Sherlock giving him an equal measure of the same look, in his own way.
The beautiful moment was interrupted by the TARDIS rematerializing, and the Doctor stepped out of the machine, looking shell-shocked and unbearably sad. He spied River's concerned face first, as if he'd been looking for it, and walked right past everyone to kiss her squarely on the lips.
She smiled into the kiss. "Not that I'm complaining, sweetie, but exactly what happened?"
He shook his head. "Spoilers. But I needed that." With a flourish of his hand, he got everyone around the table to get up and into the TARDIS. "Come on, everyone—we're going on a pre-wedding trip! We'll have you lads back in time for your ceremony, or later, if Sherlock prefers. I vote we go to the Beach Planet, so everyone go to your rooms and get your best bathing suit and snorkels!"
Everyone shrugged—the Doctor switched from moods of unspeakable bitterness to flamboyant effervescence in an instant. John and Sherlock greeted the TARDIS with bright smiles, happy to see the chirping box again, and they all went to their rooms to grab something to wear.
John lingered in the console room for a bit, letting everyone leave him so he could marvel at the beauty of the machine, when he heard the smallest of whispers from somewhere in the room.
Hello, John.
He spun around, looking for the source of the noise but finding it only in his own head. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get it out, but it remained, quietly persistent.
No, John, you're not going mad. This voice will go away soon. You won't even remember it when it's gone—you need to type something into the coordinate box and take us there.
Images flashed quickly through his mind, blinding him with the knowledge of how to pilot the TARDIS, and he gripped the TARDIS console for support. Come on, John. Just a few buttons. We taught you how—hit them and the pain goes away.
John couldn't think coherently anymore, but he was a soldier. He was prepared for this sort of thing and steeled himself against the pain of the images even as they forced him to his knees.
Hit the buttons and you get the answer, John. You know you've been wondering.
NO, he screamed in his head, but more images flooded his brain, images of Sherlock jumping and Sherlock leaving him at the altar and Sherlock refusing him in a million different ways. The rejection packed a suffocating punch.
You want to know if he's going to run. We can give you that answer. Everyone will have their answer. Do what you've been told.
His eyes rolled back into his head and the images of typing in the coordinates morphed in the actual action of typing it in, and without meaning to, he took the TARDIS where he was told and promptly collapsed on the deck, forgetting that he'd been controlled.
The TARDIS landed with a hollow thunk on a foreign ground, shaking the foundations of the box to its core. The Doctor, thoroughly confused, climbed out of the equipment closet and went to survey the TARDIS' actions.
"Daft old box," he grumbled. "Sometimes she just drives herself where she wants to go. All right, then, John? Hit your head?"
John sat up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't remember. I guess I must have. Did we crash somewhere?"
"Nah, Sexy sometimes takes me places she thinks I need to be. Come on, everyone!" he called out to his companions, and they all walked out of the TARDIS together.
The air was cold, the sky was a dead sort of grey, and the only thing that stretched for miles around was tall, brittle grass that matched the sky. A horrid echo sounded around the field that undulated across the waves of grass.
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of the Doctor's stomach. "Back in the TARDIS. Now."
River turned to open the TARDIS doors, but she found them locked. "Come on, darling," she said, "open up for us."
The TARDIS only started to materialize away with an angry, uncaring whine while the group began to panic.
"Doctor, fix it! Make it come back!" John insisted, trying to grab at the air where the TARDIS was rapidly fading away.
"Sexy, what are you doing?" the Doctor said. "Get back here! We need to get out of here! TARDIS!"
She ignored them all and left them with a final groan, and the five time travelers were all stranded in the middle of the barren landscape.
River watched as the Doctor's eyes filled with horror and understanding, and she slowly slid her hand into his. "Doctor. Where are we?"
He gulped and grasped her hand, and reached for Clara's. "I didn't think it would happen so soon. I thought we had time."
"Doctor."
He turned to face the four dear faces in front of him. "We're in the Fields of Trenzalore…and we have no way of escaping."