The binding ceremony was a fairly simple affair, which was pretty much what Sherlock had been expecting. It was tasteful though, and Sherlock was impressed with Isabella's planning and decorating skills. He was more interested, however, in observing how Jo interacted with everyone else. He had originally intended to stay in the background and out of everyone's way. He was flattered that Jackson and Isabella had invited him personally, but he didn't know anyone there other than his flatmate and he had no intention of making her stay by his side all evening when there were other people that she would rather be with; he didn't want to hold her back just because he was mildly uncomfortable. But he had (once again) miscalculated when it came to his friend because, apparently, Jo wasn't going to let him slip into the background. She kept him by her side the entire time, introducing him to everyone she spoke to and keeping her hand on his arm more often then not (and Sherlock wasn't quite sure when touching became so easy between them, but for once in his life he decided not to question it).
Watching Jo interact with those around her was fascinating to say the least. She easily slipped into the role of Pack Alpha and showed no hesitation when faced with the traditional lycan greeting, clasping the newcomer's arm while she leaned in and sniffed the bared necks of wolves who somehow ranked lower than the human. Sherlock himself had never been overly comfortable with typical pack dynamics, and he was surprised that Jo managed to seem so natural in a situation in which she should have been anything but. As he watched her he couldn't help but think that she should have been born a Lycan; it was incredibly unfair that someone who looked more at home with wolves than anywhere else should be separated from them by biology.
After the requisite pre-ceremony mingling and introductions were over Jo went to take her place in the procession and Sherlock found his seat in the audience. The ceremony was fairly typical. Jo came in first, entering from the side. She watched as both sets of parents came in and nodded with they bowed in a sign of came in the bridal party, who were there to act as witnesses, and they also bowed before taking their seats in the front row next to the parents. Finally Jack and Izzy came in, walking down the aisle hand in hand. When they reached the front they both knelt, averted their eyes, and tilted their heads to the left, completely exposing their necks. Jo clasped each one by the shoulders, first Jackson and then Isabella, gripping them as she leaned down to nuzzle briefly behind the ear. When she straightened she smiled and the couple and they rose gracefully to their feet. After that the ceremony was much like any human wedding: objections were called for (Sherlock wondered what would happen if anyone ever dared to object), vows were given, and rings were exchanged. Finally Jo picked up the piece of red silk that had been resting on a small table to her left. The fabric was about two inches wide and a foot and a half long. She wrapped it around the couple's wrists several times before tying it off and binding them together. She hooked her fingers into the fabric and used it to raise their arms.
"Now, here in front of your pack, your families, your friends, and everyone else who matters, I pronounce you Bonded Mates; may not even death part you," she said, her voice loud and clear and appropriately solemn. The she broke into a smile. "Congratulations. You may kiss your Mate." The couple kiss and the audience applauded; even Sherlock couldn't help a small smile.
The bride and groom walked swiftly down the aisle, and everyone else swiftly followed, heading over to the reception hall. Jackson and Isabella stood at the entrance of the dinning hall for a reception line, and after hugging them both Jo led Sherlock to a table in the back corner where, at her request, they had both been seated along with a few of her less rowdy army buddies. It was an open bar, so Jo went and fetched a couple of drinks for her and Sherlock while people were still trickling into the room. When she got back, Sherlock was in the middle of a conversation with Brandon Granger where Brandon was being as loud as he could and positively looming over the detective and Sherlock was doing his level best to answer in only monosyllables. She set the drinks on the table and put her hand on Sherlock's shoulder.
"Oi, Granger," she barked, looking up at the six foot seven Sergent. "Leave off him. And what the hell are you doing you're whole I'm-big-and-intimidating routine for? There is no way that Sherlock's been here anywhere near long enough to piss you off enough to warrant that."
Granger cracked a grin. "Oh I was just teasing, Watson. You can't really expect to show up with some new guy and for us to just leave him alone."
"That's exactly what I expect you to do," she answered, her hand tightening on Sherlock's shoulder. "This is a wedding; it's not being ruined just because there are too many alphas in one room. No one is going to turn this into some god-awful dominance thing, because we all know how that ends." Granger was visibly cowed and took a purposeful step back.
"Look, I'm sorry Jo; I was just having a bit of fun," he said sheepishly. "Please don't be mad." Jo relaxed immediately, her grip on Sherlock loosening.
She smiled at him. "No one's mad. I was just laying out some ground rules. Now, stop bugging us and get back to that lovely mate of yours; you'll have to introduce me to her later."
"Of course I will. It was good to see you again Captain," he kissed her cheek and she squeezed his shoulder and then he was gone and Sherlock and Jo were alone.
Jo sat down and took a sip of her beer. "Sorry about that. Brandon means well, and he's really sweet normally - barely even an alpha really - it's just not often that I bring someone new around; some of the guys won't really know how to react."
"Don't worry about it," he answered, reaching for his scotch. "He was more annoying than anything else."
"Yeah, well, don't get him really worked up," she said with a chuckle. "He's one of the best men you can have on your side in a brawl."
Sherlock raised one eye brow. "Do a lot of brawling, Captain?" Jo laughed, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.
"I've done my fair share," she said once she had finished. "Especially after I've had a pint or two too many." He looked at her pint warily and she laughed again. "Don't worry, I don't plan on drinking nearly that much tonight."
He sighed and cracked a half smile. "That's a shame, really. It would make for an interesting sociological experiment."
"We'll have to go out sometime," she answered, grinning. "It'll be great. I'll be picking fights and you'll be trying to keep me from getting killed."
He quirked another eyebrow, smirking. "And that's different from what we normally do how?"
"Oh don't even," she answered, sitting up straighter. "You're the one who regularly taunts serial killers because he's bored."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What about last week with Richard Collins? He was in the middle of a psychotic break, and you decided to purposefully antagonize him. He almost killed you!"
"He had a gun!" She protested loudly.
He broke into a grin. "You're not really helping prove your point." She flapped her hand at him dismissively and reached for her pint again. He sighed happily and began scanning the room.
"Why are you sitting down here?" Sherlock asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. "Shouldn't you be sitting up with the wedding party?"
Jo shrugged. "It's probably traditional or something, but it's not like I could expect you to sit up in front of everyone and I wasn't going to abandon you to a room where you didn't know anyone."
"Oh. Well thanks for that then," he replied, clearing his throat awkwardly.
She shrugged again. "It's nothing really. Certainly nothing worth thanking me for." She didn't say that there was no one she would rather spend the evening with, and Sherlock didn't say that he'd never get used to the fact that she didn't take every opportunity she could to get rid of him. They slipped back into comfortable silence, glad for the companionship they shared.
By the time that Jo finished her beer she had shed her cardigan, leaving her shoulders bare. While she never really felt self conscious about her scars, this was one of the few places where she didn't worry at all about people's reactions. Sherlock could read that ease in her body language, and resolved to behave himself for as long as she wanted to stay if for no other reason than he didn't know if he would ever get the chance to observe her in a similar situation again. They were still the only ones at their table, but there were still plenty of people milling about in groups so Sherlock didn't hold out much hope that it would remain that way. Sure enough, a few minutes later a stocky brunette came up to the table holding two glasses of what Sherlock was pretty sure was gin. He set them down on the table and Jo jumped up so that she could throw her arms around his shoulders; she laughed when he lifted her up off the ground and spun her around. When he finally put her down they kept their arms around each other even as she turned back to Sherlock.
"Sherlock, I'd like you to meet Second Lieutenant Bill Murray," she said, grinning widely. "He was one of my MP's in Afghanistan. There's no man you'd rather have in a firefight."
Sherlock stood up and offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." The name definitely sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it so he thought it safer not to mention anything.
Bill grinned and shook his hand. "Same here. I've been wanting to meet you since Cap moved in."
"Really? Why?" He asked, visibly taken aback.
Murray chuckled. "You got her to sound like her again. We all figure that you must be one hell of a man to have managed that." Sherlock felt his cheeks get a bit warm at that and he was thankful for the dimly lit room - even if he didn't know what to say. Thankfully Jo cut in herself.
"Alright, that's enough of that," she said easily. "You all can swap embarrassing stories about me as soon as I walk away, but save it until then. Now, I'm pretty sure that I saw you bring over something to drink, so let's get to it."
Murray nodded and retrieved the glasses, handing one of them to her. "We never got to have our gin after that last mission, and I figured better late than never, right." Jo smiled but Sherlock could tell that it was forced.
"Thanks," she said, looking down at the liquid thoughtfully. They clinked glasses and then both threw back their drinks in one go with a solemnity that the detective didn't quite understand. Once the glasses were empty Murray took Jo's from her and shuddered as if he was trying to shake off a bad memory.
He forced a smile. "Well, now that that's done, the boys are all together in the back if you wanted to join us."
Jo nodded, her smile a bit more genuine. "Of course, we'll be right there. Let me just find some bread or something so I don't have two drinks on an empty stomach."
"Great." Bill beamed at her. "Everyone's dying to see you." His gaze flicked to her scarred shoulder for just a moment before nodding at Sherlock and turning on his heel and walking away. Jo watched him go before turning back to Sherlock.
"Sorry about that," she said, sounding almost sheepish. "That was just a, um, tradition." At Sherlock's questioning look she continued. "I was usually the field medic for scouting missions and such, and after every mission Bill and I would get together and drink gin - awful stuff really, but it was one of the few things we could get consistently. The last mission I ran with Bill was when I got shot, so we never got to have our drink. This was just setting things right."
"Oh, well, good for you," he said, not really knowing what else he should say.
She shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I got shot in the middle of a battle, and I ended up falling down a hill. Because of where I had fallen, rescue was not only highly ill-advised but also damned near impossible. We still had radio contact and Bill, the loyal moron that he is, told me that he was going to come and get me. He ignored every direct order that I could scream at him to do it, too. If he hadn't done that - if he had waited until it was safe like he was supposed to - then I would have bled out. Hell, I almost did despite everything he did; I flat lined on the operating table. I was dead for forty-five seconds before they were able to resuscitate me. Before I knew it I was back in England and my career was over."
"I'm sorry," Sherlock murmured, surprised by how emotional he sounded.
Jo shook herself out of the past and smiled up at him. "It's fine; everything worked out for the best in the end." The fondness in her eyes as she said that made Sherlock's heart stutter. Before he could ask if getting shot was really worth everything they had she continued speaking. "Anyway, I just wanted you to hear that from me first in case anyone says anything about it. They shouldn't, but you never know. Now, why don't we go over there so I can introduce you. From what I hear they're all dying to meet you."
"Lead they way," he answered quietly, setting down the drink he had barely touched.
Sherlock had never been comfortable with pack dynamics, not even as a child, and it had only gotten worse as he had gotten older. He didn't particularly want to lead a pack, and he certainly didn't want to submit to take a submissive role in one, but more than that, he simply didn't understand them. He didn't see the purpose of all the posturing that was seemingly necessary (although he was more than capable of participating in it when he needed to), he definitely wasn't comfortable with the close physical proximity to any number of other people, and he was disconcerted, to say the least, by the playful, off-handed violence that came hand in hand with being in a pack. Jo, on the other hand, looked as if being part of a pack was the most natural thing in the world. She easily assumed her position at the head of the group and Sherlock was surprised (and more than a little awed) at how everyone in the group seemed to settle when she joined them.
There were five of them (not counting Jo and Sherlock (or Jackson as he and Isabella had yet to make their grand entrance)), six if you counted Bill's mate. Bill was too Jo's left, next to him was his mate, Angela, followed by Brandon, then came Nicholas and William (who were fraternal twins), followed by Eli, and finally Jim. Sherlock closed the circle by standing at Jo's right. For the most part it was a lively group, full of the easy, jostling, organic physicality that Sherlock had never seen outside of a pack. They swapped stories, often talking over one another, usually about something that had happened while they were at home, but occasionally they recalled some prank that had been pulled in Afghanistan or something that had happened while on leave in some exotic place. The twins were by far the quietest members of the group (apart from Sherlock who didn't feel the need to speak at all); Nic's silence stemmed from an obvious shyness, but William's appeared to be much more antagonistic.
Jo was the only one that no one even attempted to interrupt, but she seemed mostly content to just listen to everyone else's stories, occasionally interjecting with the way she remembered something happening or, better yet, with a story of her own of something ridiculous she and Sherlock had done. Even when he was making disparaging comments about her blog, Sherlock couldn't deny that Jo was an excellent story teller, and her skills were undeniably greater when she was speaking rather than writing. She spoke with her hands, punctuating her point with decisive movements and drawing everyone in. Her eyes sparkled and danced and she had a wide smile that didn't seem to fade; she looked so happy that Sherlock couldn't help but hang off her every word.
A little while after Jackson and Isabella made their grand entrance, Jackson joined their group, inserting himself effortlessly between Jim and Sherlock. He joined the conversation seamlessly, picking up the thread of their stories and adding his own without skipping a beat. Jo seemed to relax even more with his arrival, and Sherlock wouldn't deny that it was nice to have someone else he had actually met before in the group. Even so, he was still more than a little uncomfortable.
This was very obviously Jo's world and Sherlock couldn't help but feel as if he didn't belong; he had nothing to add to the conversation and most members of the group ignored him after giving him a wary once over. Only Jack and William paid any real attention to him - Jack giving him a friendly smile every now and then, and William looking at him with open hostility. But every time Sherlock though about pulling away from the group or became too uncomfortable, Jo would smile up at him reassuringly and place her hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. The simple action settled him in a way that he hadn't experienced since leaving home. Even as a child Sherlock had been markedly different from his peers; he saw too much, knew too much, and said too much. His mother, as well as the other adults in the Pack, did their best to try and curb his less desirable personality traits (the list of undesirable traits was constantly growing and seemed to encapsulate the boy's entire personality), but Sherlock was already strong willed and stubborn and he refused to allow himself to be changed to fit the whims of others. This refusal to conform led him to a form of self-imposed isolation, and he spent most of his time buried in one book or another, ignoring everyone else as much as he possibly could. It was still too much, however, and every month or so the world would become too overwhelming and Sherlock would suffer from something akin to a panic attack caused by sensory overload. He would hyper-ventilate, which was often accompanied by tears and huge, racking sobs that shook his entire body; he would also get awful migraines and muscle spasms. If he wasn't calmed down within the first hour of these episodes, he would become to tense to make the transformation to wolf form, which only exacerbated the situation. At times like that, the only one who was able to reach the boy was his father.
Siger Holmes was one of the most submissive Betas Sherlock had ever encountered - his son had never once seen him stand up to an Alpha, even an alpha child - but when his youngest became so overwhelmed that he couldn't calm down, Siger would grab him and pull him into his lap and physically held him still. He would place one hand over the back of Sherlock's neck, gently squeezing in the typical show of dominance. The pair would sit silently for hours until Sherlock had calmed down enough to be able to function. When he got to be too old to be properly manhandled, Siger would pull him onto the nearest couch so that Sherlock could rest his head in his father's lap. The detective hadn't felt that level of peace since he had left home, but he settling presence of Jo's hand on his arm came close.
Jo had just touched Sherlock's arm again, drawing him back into the conversation when William raised his eyebrows and looked between the two of them. "So what's this? You two seem very cozy."
"What do you mean?" Jo asked, her posture straightening into something far less relaxed.
William rolled his eyes with a sneer. "You know exactly what I mean. You bring in some new guy, you track where he is, ad you've placed him in the position of your mate. What? Did you finally get tired of Liam and go out and find a new fuck buddy?" Sherlock tensed, realizing for the first time that he was indeed standing where Jo's mate should have been. Jo grabbed his arm again before he had the chance to remove himself.
"What does it matter to you?" She asked, her voice challenging and dangerous. "Are you jealous? Would you like a chance at it?" He opened his mouth to answer, but she just steamrolled over him, not giving him the chance to speak. "We could go out back for a nice quick fuck. Would that make you feel better?" Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what Jo wanted him to do; William seemed to be equally at a loss and when he didn't immediately respond she continued, her voice even harder than before. "Now if we're quite done with that, I think you should leave until you can behave yourself." William looked like he was about to argue, but after a moment or two he stalked away. An oppressive silence fell over the group despite the fact that everyone had relaxed a bit with Will's exit.
Finally Jack spoke up quietly. "I think that they're about to start serving the appetizers; maybe we should all go find our seats."
"That's a good idea,' Jo answered with a warm smile. "It was great to see you all again, but we are actually here for a wedding, not ridiculous power plays." Everyone agreed and they quickly disbanded. Jo pulled Jackson aside before he could get too far away, and although Sherlock couldn't hear exactly what she was saying, he was fairly certain that she was apologizing for what had happened. Jack shook his head, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh. She kissed his cheek and they parted ways.
She and Sherlock were heading back to their table when Nicholas stopped them. "I'm really sorry about William. He doesn't always think about what he says before he says it."
Jo smiled kindly and reached up to place her hand over the nape of his neck. "Don't worry about it. You don't have to apologize for your brother."
"You deserve more respect than he gives you," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the ground.
She squeezed his neck lightly. "And you have always shown me that respect. It is not your responsibility to make him show proper submission. IF I wanted to make him submit, I would. Don't worry about it. I'll catch up with you later." She leaned up and kissed his cheek before pulling her hand back. Nic mumbled a quick goodbye and went to find his table. Finally, it was just the two of them; although Sherlock refused to admit that he was obviously more relaxed that way.