Johnlock

John's wedding.

Sherlock was two fingers into the bottle of scotch he planned to give the couple when he was interrupted by a loud serious of knocks on the door. At first he chose to ignore it, but then a voice began to demand he open up. He recognized it and his stomach flittered with hope. He had to polish off his glass before he could open the door, that hope was ill advised.

He opened the door on the third knock to a frazzled John, his blond hair was a mess, he was missing half his suit, and his tie was lazily drawn across his shoulders. But unlike him, he hadn't been drinking. "John? You look terrible, you can't be married tomorrow looking like that."

"Good."He snaps, inviting himself in, he strides over to Sherlock's empty glass and refills it, taking a long swig of it before Sherlock manages to stop him. "Give that here, I need it!"

"What's happened? Why aren't you with your bride?"He demands, a little bit of curiosity seeking in beside the concern. John snatches the glass from him and finishes it, topping it off with another two fingers. This time Sherlock grabs the bottle before he can finish that off, too. "John, you don't want to be hungover for your wedding day, now -"

"Stop with the 'wedding', Sherlock!"He practically shouts, the alcohol hadn't even affected him, he felt just as miserable and regretful as before. But now he has Sherlock to stare at him with that same pity. "There won't be a wedding, now give me the scotch."

"No wedding? What are you talking about?"He can't hide the underlying relief, though John seemed to notice it before he could explain. Now he felt transparent. "You two are to be married in less than sixteen hours and you've already flown out all of your guests, of course you'll be married."

"Oh get off it, we both know you're happy I'm not getting married."He snaps again, this time he felt insulted. He wished he were half as transparent as Sherlock, that way he wouldn't have to admit why he broke it off. "I don't love Mary like I should and she understood so we called it off."

"What could have possibly changed in two days? You were all over each other today!"

"She was all over me, I couldn't take it and it had nothing to do with her, she knew that."John couldn't look at him when he said that because he hadn't changed yet, it left him all bothered like it did today while he watched him at the rehearsal. He normally wore suits, but now he seemed more handsome, a year had changed him and left him a little more fit, longer hair, and tanner skin. It normally didn't bother him, but now it felt like all of the feelings he once had were crashing into him again. Only this time it helped him realize who he really wanted to marry and it wasn't Mary.

"This is just nerves, you're just -"

"My nerves have nothing to do with the wedding and that's why I need that scotch so give it to me!"He shouted, but just before he grabbed for it Sherlock tucked it behind his back. They fought for a minute until John gave up, his arms around him and fighting for a bottle he couldn't reach, it only made them press tightly against a wall, which made him an easy target to John. Being this close to him made it hard to concentrate and he wasn't ready to admit his feelings for him, let alone show them.

"This scotch it mine and I was already drinking it before you came in so either you get your own or you stop hogging it all!"Sherlock snapped, John regretfully relinquished the glass. It took a second for Sherlock to take it then he stared down at the empty cup. "This is almost a hundred years old, you're supposed to drink it slow."

"Alright, we'll share, you drink first."He says finding a good spot on his bed to wait. Sherlock poured a few shots into it and took a long, slow drink of it. He didn't mean to make eye contact but even so his enjoyment made John shiver. He couldn't stand to watch him, so he took the glass from him and pulled it all in fast, but heeded his warning and let it rest in his mouth before swallowing. It burned like good scotch should, strong and rich flavor, leaving his stomach on edge. It didn't help to drown the butterflies in alcohol, it only made them more impatient. But they shared two more drinks before Sherlock deemed it time to talk about it.