Skinny Love (Johnlock)

A Closet for John

Enjoy

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Skinny Love

A Closet for John

John glanced up from his computer to look at his fiancé. (It still gave him the chills just to say that) He was sprawled across the couch, with his hands steepled under his chin. John assumed he was solving the case they had just picked up. The truth was that Sherlock had already solved it, and was in his mind palace making a new room for what he wanted their wedding to be like. John and Molly had done most of the planning, but Sherlock wanted a say in it, after all, it was his wedding too. He got up and while he was texting Lastrade with the murder case information he casually said, "So have you decided on a location yet?"

"Hm?" John looked up, his fingers hovering over the keys.

"For our wedding." Sherlock grinned and wiggled his left hand.

"Oh, right, I was thinking outdoors, would you like that?"

"Sounds wonderful, just as long as its you at the end of the aisle." Sherlock walked over and kissed John on the nose.

*

John paused from the list he'd made;

Mum

Harry

Greg

Mrs. Hudson

Molly

Mycroft

Anyone else? Not that he could think of. They were planning a small wedding. He got up and went into the kitchen. "Sherlock? Is there anyone else you'd like to invite?" Sherlock was hunched over his microscope but he snapped up when he heard John's voice and took the paper from his hand. He scanned it for a minute and gave it back to John with a curt nod.

"My mother." he said.

"Um." John didn't know how to respond. He had never met Sherlock's mother and didn't know what kind of relationship they had. John opened his mouth to ask about her but before he could, Sherlock interrupted him.

"I'll tell you eventually, John, just not now." He bent back over his microscope. John jotted down a few more names that came to his mind.

*

The next morning, they woke up on the floor of the living room. Sherlock was on his stomach with his body and limbs splayed haphazardly half over John and half not. A thin quilt barely covered his arse, with his long legs sticking out the bottom. His head was on John's chest, and his hair tickled his chin. John smiled and started twisting it around his fingers lethargically. Sherlock sighed and looked up at John, bringing his hand over his chest.

"We're trying on our tuxes today." John told him in a hushed whisper.

"This is really happening isn't it?" Sherlock gave a small smile which John returned. "I love you so much, John."

They sat up and John kissed Sherlock slowly. "I love you too."

*

John had been the one to pick out the tuxedoes and today they were having them tailored. A small bell chimed when John held open the door to the shop. There were fancy dresses and suits on faceless mannequins around the room which kinda creeped Sherlock out seeing as the couple had just started watching Doctor Who. A man with dark styled hair emerged from the back room and greeted the two. He was wearing a light green collared shirt with a suede vest and a purple pokadotted bow-tie. Sherlock quickly deduced him. "Had a fight recently with his sister. Over her boyfriend? Ooh, plot twist. They're in a happy relationship now but him and the sister have grown distant."

"We have a pair of suits to get tailored. It should be under the name Watson-Holmes." John told him. Sherlock smiled at the name. So did the owner of the shop.

"You two are absolutely adorable with each other. And the suit is going to look great on you," he clasped his hands together and walked up to Sherlock, "You have the perfect physique."

John's eyes narrowed. "Can we just see the tuxes?" The man lead them into a lobby-like area with couches and mirrors along the sides. There where curtains separating the changing rooms.

"One moment please," He disappeared into a back room for a moment, and came out with the tuxes.

*

They were both white, it being the norm, even though neither of them was still a virgin. The tuxes where an 'eggshell white' according the the owner, which Sherlock found preposterous; any white is just white. Under the jacket was a dark purple vest with a white shirt and a matching bow-tie. Sherlock smiled at the color choice, he knew that was the color John loved him in. "What is it with gay men and bow-ties?" he thought to himself, eying the rather extravagant pattern on the shop owner's. John took them from the man and shoved the larger one into Sherlock's arms as he guided him toward a changing room.

*

Everything was ready. All they had to do was wait. And it was driving Sherlock crazy. He wanted to do something special for John on their wedding day. John was at work, so he had plenty of time in his mind palace. He laid on the couch with his hands under his chin. He made a new room. Well, more of a closet really, and he filled it with things he wanted to give John. He decided to write him a poem, and wandered into the John wing of the palace. (Yes, now it's a wing) He sat on the floor with his legs crossed and gazed at the pictures of various memories he had with him, the good and bad. He started to form stanzas in his head, and a pen and paper quickly evaporated into the air beside him, awaiting his touch. He snatched them and quickly began scratching away on the pad of paper.