Chapter 39: The Sign of Three

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"Ah, Mike." John and Mary said, trying smiling stiffly.

"'To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big...big squishy cuddles from Stella and Ted.'" Sherlock read with disgust.

"'Mary, Lots of love...'"

"Yeah?" John prompted.

"'...poppet,'" Sherlock read.

The newlyweds giggled.

"'Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam. Wish your family could have seen this.'" Sherlock finished.

John took Mary's hand at the mention of her family. She squeezed his hand, happy for the support.

"Um, 'special day,' 'very special day,' 'love,' 'love,' 'love,' 'love.'" Sherlock sped through the other cards. "Bit of a theme, you get the gist. People are basically fond."

The guests laughed.

"John Watson." Sherlock began in earnest. "My friend John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realize he was asking me. When finally I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I explained to him that I'd never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, a demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being moved by it. It later transpired that I'd said none of this outloud."

The crowd laughed. Sherlock cleared his throat and pulled out the enormous pile of notes from his jacket pocket. He began discarding them one by one.

"Done that, done that, done that bit..." He murmured to himself before finding his place. "I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you. All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure cold reason I hold above all things."

Y/N looked down at the table.

"A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honor the deathwatch beetle that is the doom of our society and in time, one feels certain, our entire species."

Y/N bit her lip, trying to stay composed.

"But anyway, let's talk about John." Sherlock continued. "If I burden myself with a little helpmate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Indeed any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes in truth from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides."

Y/N and John exchanged looks of hurt and confusion.

"It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel."

Janine tried to fix her hair.

"And contrast after all is God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot."

The crowd murmured.

"The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet." Sherlock explained. "I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man it is because I never expected to anybody's best friend. And certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest man I've ever had the good fortune of knowing. I never expected to find myself enjoying those emotions so opposed to reason and logic, either."

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