"Remind me to buy Mycroft a fruit basket," John said incredulously at the grooms' table. The reception hall was truly a gorgeous sight—white flowers and candles were dripping off of each available surface. Everything was tasteful, bright, and not too girly.

"I think just deciding not to kill him is enough of a gift," Sherlock reasoned. The pair hadn't stopped holding hands since they were pronounced husband and consulting detective. When the attention seemed to be off the married couple and on the ice sculptures for a moment, Sherlock nuzzled John's jaw and growled, "I'm bored. Marry me."

"Why not?" John smirked, sneaking a kiss. "Your vows were incredible. I didn't think you'd come up with any."

"In light of recent events, I deemed it necessary. I hope you wrote them down because I'm not saying them again." His eyes flickered around the room. "Shall we greet the well-wishers?"

"Do we have to?"

"I think we do." Sherlock pulled him up and they made their rounds in the huge reception hall.

"Boys, oh, I'm so proud of you!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed when she saw them, still stifling tears back in her throat. She smoothed down their ties and fiddled with their corsages. "You'll be back at 221B after the honeymoon, won't you?"

"Of course, Mrs. Hudson. That is," John whinged, "if Sherlock manages to get us back alive from wherever he's taking me."

"Allow me a few surprises, husband. I can guarantee you'll like where we're going," Sherlock said. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. You'll maintain the flat while we're gone, I presume."

"Boys, I am not your housekeeper."

They gave her a condescending smile and moved on, shaking Anderson and Donovan's hands out of courtesy, and making their way to Molly's table. "Molly, you look gorgeous," Sherlock said, which made the pathologist blush like mad. He knew she would—John had reminded him to say something nice to her at the wedding.

"Congratulations, boys. You were made for each other," she said. "You remember Henry Knight, from the Baskerville case?"

"Of course." John shook Henry's hand. "Thanks for coming. Lovely to see you again, Henry."

"Likewise, John. Congratulations, you two. I did have a feeling you two were a thing, back on the case. Fancy a drink, Moll?" Henry whisked Molly off to the bar and the pathologist giggled uncontrollably, which made John feel loads better about marrying the man she'd fancied for years before.

Mycroft, who'd made it to the reception, was currently talking with a baffled Lestrade. "So you actually fixed the London Olympics?"

"Do keep up, Detective Inspector. I didn't 'fix' it—we all just decided beforehand what country would win what medal."

"But that's…brilliant!" Lestrade laughed.

Mycroft seemed intrigued that Lestrade was so impressed. "Who do you think secured that promotion for you six years ago?"

"You mean…that was you, too? Bloody hell, we hadn't even met yet."

"I was impressed with your work."

Lestrade looked awestruck. "Er, are you doing anything after this, or…?"

"I have a diplomatic issue to attend to."

"Oh."

"Hey, mates," John said, effectively interrupting them. "Thanks for coming, Greg, it's great to see you. Mycroft, thank you so much for everything. The wedding was perfect."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Mycroft replied. He seemed genuinely pleased. "You'll take care of my brother, then, won't you?"

"It's not like I've been doing anything else for the past three years."

Sherlock grudgingly shook his brother's hand. "I owe you a debt of gratitude, Mycroft. This was a…rather nice affair."

"Consider us even after the whole Moriarty fiasco."

Sherlock noticed the people he was looking for sitting at a table in the back and made to leave Lestrade and Mycroft. "It was wonderful seeing you gentlemen. I think now would be an appropriate time for hugging."

The two baffled men got up and hugged Sherlock. While he awkwardly put his arms around Lestrade, he whispered, "Take him cake from the bakery on Northcote and he'll follow you anywhere."

Lestrade gulped and nodded. "Thanks, mate."

Hugging his brother next, he said, "Divorced and single, but you knew that. What you didn't know is that he's practically begging you to join him in a hotel room. Make of that what you will."

If Mycroft seemed excited at the prospect, he didn't show it. "Congratulations, Sherlock and John. I wish you many happy years together."

Grabbing John's hand, he went to the back of the reception hall, where two women were greedily eating cake. "River Song. I should have guessed you'd be in attendance."

She grinned at him with a mouthful of chocolate icing. "As if I'd miss this party, sweetie. By the way, if you two are ever interested in adding a third, I'll certainly be available. And I bring my own handcuffs."

"River, hi," John coughed, pulling her into a hug. "You look incredible in that dress."

"Don't I, thought?" She ran suggestive hands over her frame, clad in an emerald green dress that clung to her curves. "I can't resist a wedding to show off. You remember my amazing daughter, don't you?"

Clara smiled shyly at the couple before giving them a hug. "Hi, boys. Congratulations on your wedding—it was really beautiful."

"Thank you, it was," Sherlock agreed. "As wonderful as it is to see you two, I'm assuming it's not merely a social visit."

River pouted. "Can't anything ever be purely friendly around here?"

"No, never. Explain," Sherlock demanded, sitting down at the table with John.

She sighed and stuffed more cake into her mouth. "We've worked out a plan, Lyra and me. We've been out for months, letting her learn how to control the TARDIS, and now we've got something together. The Library accepted me for the expedition."

"That's brilliant. The Library planet, right?" John asked. "You'll find the information there?"

"Well, that's the idea. The files on Netherspace will be there, and after the Doctor saves me, I'll be able to get them. I just can't let him know that I already know I'm going to die. Lyra has everything figured out," River said with a glance to her daughter, "but she won't tell me how it's all going to work. She takes after her old mum, with the spoilers and everything." She was about to continue until she saw something she recognized in the window across the hall. "Excuse me, gents. I'll be back in a jiff."

She walked away, leaving a confused threesome in her wake.

"We'll never be able to figure her out, will we?" John asked.

"There's only ever been one man who could," Clara sighed, smoothing down her yellow dress.

"What do you know that your mother doesn't, Clara?" Sherlock asked. "Is this plan even going to work?"

"Of course it is. It's got to." She tapped her fingers on the table. "I've been getting used to the TARDIS, assuming my place as the new Doctor. It hasn't been easy, but Sexy's been really helpful. We went to the Library in secret to figure out what was going to happen there, and it isn't pretty. Mum doesn't know yet."

"What's going to happen?"

"Vashta Neruda—these beasty monsters that live in the dark. Mum's going to get tangled with them, and the Doctor will be there to negotiate with them, but he has to sacrifice his own brainspace to do it. Mum will make sure he doesn't have to. That's how she dies—she gives up her mind for a computer download to save everyone."

"Don't you think she should know what she's getting into?" Sherlock asked.

"She'll figure it out when she gets there. I can't tell her…" She cleared her throat. "I have a plan, boys. I inspected Mum's screwdriver—Dad saved a copy of her to it the same way he saved me to the TARDIS desktop. He'll plug her into the Library database network, and she'll be able to survive as a file in the computer. She'll be able to find all the information in the universe on Netherspace in the system, and when she figures out how to get there, I'll download her into the TARDIS system and we can find Netherspace together."

"But she'll only be a computer file!" John said angrily. "How will you be able to bring River back?"

"That's the tricky part. I'm going to need a human body willing to let River's mind take it over via download. Once the TARDIS and I figure out mind-switches, it'll be easy. The hard part is finding someone willing to let go and let River take control, and Mum will NOT like that."

"I can't imagine that anyone would."

"It's the best I have, okay?" Clara said, exasperated. "I'm not going to kill anyone—I'm going to ask all potential candidates. Even if it takes me forever to find someone to make that sacrifice. I'd do it myself, but someone needs to make the switch."

Sherlock's grip tightened on John's hand. "If you're asking John and me, the answer is no."

"Oh, come on, of course not!" she snorted. "I'll find someone. And when River's been brought back, we can travel to Netherspace and find the Doctor. We still have the Doctor's body, and as long as it stays in stasis mode, we can use it to bring his mind back into a body."

"Why can't you use River's own body to bring it back?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It doesn't survive her death, I'm afraid. Rather gruesome business."

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you need from us, Clara? I want to help, but I don't know how we fit into the plan."

"You actually do, in your own way. It's actually the reason I'm here, besides being with Mum before she goes." She reached into a briefcase beside her feet and pulled out a stack of papers. "You're going to want to get started on these tonight. It will take about a year for them to go through, unless you can bribe Mycroft to put them through for you faster."

Sherlock snatched the papers from her and peered over them. He frowned and gave her a bemused expression. "Adoption papers?"

John's eyes bugged out of his head. "Bloody hell, we just got married, Clara."

"Oh, you have a year to adjust. He's two months old, and his parents died a week ago in a car crash. He's being taken care of by a foster mother now, but he'll be on the official adoption registry after his paperwork goes through. And you two are going to be his parents."

Sherlock shook his head. "Where exactly did you get the idea that John and I were ready to be fathers?"

She only smiled enigmatically. "Trust me on this one. I'm the Doctor." Standing up to leave, she pecked them each on the forehead and said in passing, "He needs you two. You're going to love him, boys. We need him. I need him."

John choked, trying to get words out. "You think—Sherlock—a baby—blimey, I don't think I'm ready—"

"Bloody hell." Sherlock stared at the adoption papers in front of him, pulling apart the identification sheets. There was a photo of a little baby reaching for the camera, with messy dark hair and an open smile. "Well, shit. He's…"

"Sherlock, we don't have to listen to her. Even if it is our future, we can wait. She doesn't dictate—"

"He's adorable." He blinked. "Dare we try and defy time itself?"

John swallowed. "We just got married."

"We've been married three times, Watson. Perhaps it's time we settled down and started a family. Besides, he needs us!" Sherlock exclaimed, shoving the picture of the baby in his husband's face. "Look at him."

John rolled his eyes and looked at the baby, and he immediately wished he hadn't. The infant was, indeed, adorable. He felt his heart melting immediately. "I don't think we're ready for this."

"Do you remember taking care of Bo back in Pete's World?"

"Of course."

Sherlock smiled. "You were such a brilliant dad. Even then. And if you can do it, then I know I can follow your example and try and be a good father, too."

John put a firm hand on Sherlock's cheek. "You won't have to try. You'll be perfect. All right, sod it all. We'll finish the papers tonight and fax them to Mycroft."

Sherlock thanked him with a kiss. "Shall we dance?"