The day had arrived. As the music began to play, he turned around to see the face of his beautiful bride, Mary.
(A/N you are probably all super mad right now but keep reading)
As he stared at the tiny, hairspray-formed curls that sat perfect and unmoving behind her ears, he was reminded of another very different set of curls, wild and messy and black. Then he pictured those curls wet with blood against a backdrop of red-stained pavement, as they had been the very last time he saw them, and suddenly he was fighting back tears.
Oh, he did love Mary Morstan. But as a friend. She'd been so forward with him, so in love, and he needed to prove to everyone he was so over Sherlock that he had no choice, really, but to marry her. The real love of his life had died almost three years ago.
And so, here he was. In a tuxedo he felt was stiff, ugly and annoying but it was the only one they had for a man of his stature. In a chilly, damp church. Marrying a friend. How much sadder could his life be, really? Well, I suppose it could be my worst enemy I'm marrying instead of a dear friend, thought John.
Mary was down at his end of the aisle now. John had to admit she did look quite lovely in her lacy white dress. "If you would please join hands," the minister said. John and Mary took each other's hands. "We are gathered here today to join this man and woman in Holy Matrimony. If anyone has an object to this union, speak now or forever hold your pea-"
At that exact moment, everyone who had brought their phone received a text. Including John. John leaned in to Mary. "Can I check that?" "Oh, go ahead." Mary replied, still so happy about the marriage, pulling her own phone out of the thick sash tied round the waist of her gown.
The text was short, only two words and a signature. John gasped, and judging by the similar reactions of the others in the room, everyone had received the same text.
The two words were these: I object.
The signature was this: SH
Everyone turned to the person that had just run in, wearing a tuxedo and gasping for breath.
"John, I love you, and don't try to pretend you don't love me back because it's written all over your face." Sherlock cried. "Mary is your friend, you can't marry friends, that's weird." Mary, who had had tears forming in her eyes since they all got the text, ran out of the building sobbing. Sherlock fell to one knee, staring up at John. "Don't marry Mary. Marry me."
John had tears forming in his eyes too, but of the happy, excited variety.
"Okay." he said.
