Sherlock Story.

Forgotten Memories.

Epilogue.

Sorry that this took a long time in coming. I did have a few issues. I was very busy with work, (how else could I afford my tea?) Special thanks to those who have stuck with me from the outset, and watched me grow. You make every day better than the last. I'll hold you forever in my heart.

Enjoy.

London

Two Years Later

John's face was unnaturally pale. His shod feet tapped in a quick cadence, as he walked back and forth with nervous energy.

"John, calm down," Sherlock said evenly and slightly annoyed.

"You calm down!" He hissed before stopping abruptly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, before slowly walking to the end of the room and stopping beside John. He looked decidedly green. He was also hyperventilating.

Sherlock's second eyebrow joined the first, as it vanished beneath the dark, curly locks. An impatient sigh escaped before he rolled his eyes, took John physically by the wrist, and practically pulled the suddenly easy-going man to the chair.

"Breathe, John. Follow me. In..., One… Two…. Three. Out..., One… Two… Three… Four," Sherlock repeated soothingly to John. John locked eyes with Sherlock as if he was a drowning man and his friend was a lifeline.

Within a few minutes, his breathing evened out. He nodded once, as he looked with embarrassment at Sherlock.

They both turned their heads at the same time toward the sound. A familiar sounding tune floated gently through partially closed doors.

The tall man's hand turn toward the ex-soldier, as he glanced him up and down once quickly. "It's almost time John." His voice gently informed.

"So, we're gonna do this?" John asked as his eyes turned toward his friend.

"You're going to do this," an undisguised smirk graced the corner of the tall, brunette's lips, "my sympathies."

A slight squeak of the door opening, sounded to their left. Mycroft poked his head inside. The normally expressionless man's face held an exasperated look. "As much as I loath to interrupt your tea-time, you do have a room full of people who are waiting for you." His voice was slightly annoyed. "Really, can't the two of you be punctual for anything?"

Both men looked at one another before John said, "We'll be right there. Give us five minutes."

Mycroft sighed dramatically, before he turned to leave.

"Thank you dear," was added, as his back was turned.

Mycroft stiffened for a moment, before he walked away.

Both men spontaneously broke out into unrestrained laughter. John's nervousness was instantly forgotten.

He looked at his best mate with fondness. "So... we're actually going to do this."

Sherlock's face softened, as he said with gentle sincerity, "As I have said… you are going to do this." He glanced at his watch before adding softly, "and if we don't move soon, I think Mycroft and several people in there, will hunt us down."

John looked up into gray-blue eyes, as he asked quietly, "Any advice?"

Sherlock rubbed one finger along his chin, as he thought quickly. "Don't make her angry. She has a gun. Especially today; you know how emotional pregnancy makes women."

John's voice rose with exasperation. "In her defense, anyone would be furious if they woke up to find body parts in their crisper. That door key we gave you was for emergencies. I can't believe you walked two streets away just to put your experiments in our refrigerator."

Sherlock huffed indignantly "It was an emergency John!" He folded his arms defensively. The arms of his gray morning coat, creased in protests, before he added, "My refrigerator was full. Don't you think that you both overreacted a bit? Really, John, I made sure that the fingers were not touching the carrots…" Sherlock stopped talking when he noticed the look of shock on his friend's face. His lips contorted into a frown.

"John?" He asked.

"Did you say pregnant, Sherlock?" John's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, John; of course. Don't tell me you didn't know." The taller man looked at his friend curiously. "Haven't I been teaching you to be observant these past years?"

"Pregnant?" John swayed slightly.

"Yes, John." Sherlock put a steadying hand on one of John's elbows.

"Pregnant?" John repeated in a voice that held wonder, disbelief, joy, and a hint of fear.

"You're perseverating John. Yes, pregnant, and It's going to be a girl," Sherlock's voice held a casual confidence. "Let's hope that she doesn't have her mother's temper." He caught John's eye. "Do you know she held a gun up to me two days ago?"

"Yes, I know Sherlock," John commented distractedly, as he waved one hand. "There were no bullets in it."

"I know John. But, it was still undignified." Sherlock's face held a pout. "She needs to stop waving that thing around. It's an accident waiting to happen, if you ask me."

John chuckles slightly, as he allowed his friend to lead him to the doorway. A sudden and blinding smile lit his face. His prior anxiety long forgotten.

Sherlock noticed. He physically turned John toward the doorway, and gave a gentle shove. "I'm glad my near-death experiences are a source of amusement for you, John."

"You and Mary near drive each other to madness on a regular basis. Minutes later, you forgive each other, while laughing and giggling like school children. And, yes, it is quite amusing to watch. But, that's not why I was smiling, Sherlock." John's eyes suddenly became bright, his voice, rough. "I was just thinking."

Sherlock knew that John had more to say. He waited patiently for him to speak, but did not cease moving. The door creaked open, as Sherlock ushered his friend into the long corridor. Several tall mirrors captured their images. They reflected the image of Sherlock's striped trousers, and yellow waistcoat. John was similarly dressed, but his trouser was a solid gray color. The attire was a bit formal for both John and Mary's tastes, but Mary's father was traditional.

Their dress shoes tapped in unison against the glossy, marbled halls. Their pace quickened, as they turned the final corner. The room was crowded with guests who had traveled far. Most did not notice them hidden in the corner. Mycroft discreetly looked back, his face was expressionless. Both men, however, could decipher the look of relief that flashed quickly across it. Anthea touched his hand and he turned back around with a brief smile.

John's voice floated toward his best mate. Sherlock's head turned toward him. "Our children will grow up together, Sherlock." His voice sounded suspiciously like he sniffed.

Sherlock was quiet for a few minutes. "I find that thought … most agreeable."

Both men simply looked at each other for a few minutes. "Well, John, first things first," Sherlock said, as his head nodded toward the opening of the sanctuary.

Both men started to walk.

He looked around, taking everything in silence. The earlier anxiety and confusion had dissipated like smoke in the wind. It had given way to a deep, abiding peace. He shifted his eyes to his right. He noticed how Sherlock was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off of Irene, and William. He then remembered the way that he had stared at a particular wedding ring, and had casually commented on how much Irene would like it. John smiled knowingly. The poor sod was doomed. He just hadn't figured that fact out yet. He looked around the room and blinked tears away. Years ago, Sherlock had come into the life of a broken, traumatized soldier; who had nothing but a limp, a cane, no family that he got on with, and no hope. But that soldier did possess one thing, a gun that he considered using on himself, on almost a daily basis. Now, he had a family. His eyes traveled to Mrs. Hudson. She sat in the corner quietly, smiling. Her cane rested against her left leg. Thomas and Donovan sat next to each other. Their romance had shocked him, but Sherlock had known.

His eyes shifted to the other side of the room. Greg and Molly, he corrected himself with a grin. Mrs. Lestrade, that was to say, did not surprise him. Everyone had noticed the way that they had looked at each other. Judging by a very pregnant Molly Hooper, all was going well. Lestrade glanced at her, as he took her hand into his, and smiled. The corner of John's lips turned up into a grin, before his eyes shifted.

Finally, he looked at Irene and William. She flashed him a knowing smile, which he returned. His smile widened broadly when he looked into his Godson's eyes. Little William was all teeth and smiles. He chose that moment to wiggle his small fingers in a wave at his Uncle John-John. The former soldier returned the wave and smiled, as the procession music began. He sighed contentedly. Sherlock eyes shifted to his briefly, before looking straight ahead again.

Each bridesmaid marched in with a groomsman beside her. He noticed, as the first set passed his sister. Even Harry had managed to arrive without being intoxicated. The room was filled with all the people he loved deeply. He caught Mycroft's eye. The most surprising addition to the list of his makeshift family was Mycroft. He had found more than an ally, but a friend in Mycroft.

The music changed. It was time.

When he glanced toward the rear of the room, everyone and thing but Mary, slowly melted away. Mary who was walking down the aisle with his child inside her. Her face glowed against the crisp white of her wedding gown, and the darkness of her curled hair. She was so beautiful, but it was her beautiful heart that he fell in love with.

He could feel Sherlock's smile beside him, along with what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle. He smiled a little more.

She would reach them soon.

He clasped his strong fingers together, as he cleared his throat. He was heavy with emotions. Yet the heaviness of those emotions did not weigh him down, instead, they anchored his soul securely.

The room was filled with associates, coworkers, casual acquaintances, and old army mates. But, he was blessed. The two people he loved the most in the world were there. One was standing beside him, and the other was almost within his reach. Life was good. He was… happy.

Moments in time, linked together by the decisions that were made. A series of choices. That was all that life really was. Pockets of moments, in the vast universe of time.

Doctor John Watson decided then that one of the best decisions that he had made was standing beside him; the other was an arms length away. He smiled. When he looked at Mary, his Mary, a peace came over him. He took the hand of his bride, with Sherlock beside him. This was his choice, a pause in time, his memory. One which would be recalled with joy, and would never be… forgotten.

(The Beginning.)

Thank you for taking the journey with me.

Peace and Love to all! Zacha