The Game is On

A Very Sherlock Wedding

The church was full. Every tiny spot on every bench was taken. News crews stood in the corners, ready to film for national television. Nobody wanted to miss this wedding.

In the dressing rooms, John was trying not to hyperventilate.

"Sherlock, there are a lot of people out there."

"I know," Sherlock bent over John from behind and fixed a red rose into John's jacket pocket, "You'll be fine. Eyes on me."

John, who wore a white tuxedo, turned to Sherlock. The detective had decided to wear the purple shirt again, topped with a black tuxedo jacket. An identical rose was fixed in his pocket too.

"Okay."

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Sherlock called.

Lestrade swung open the door, pausing.

"It's time."

"Come on, Johnny-Bee. The longer you wait, the worse it gets."

"What did you just--"

"Not the point," Sherlock pulled John off his seat, "Let's go."

The pair, hand in hand, headed into the room. The lights were blinding, and everyone was talking. They took their places in front of all the people, straightening up. Lestrade, who had followed behind, took his seat next to Donovan on one of the front benches.

Everyone quieted down, and the silence felt like it extended forever.

"We are gathered here today to--"

"Just get to the point."

The priest stopped, then continued.

"Sherlock Holmes, do you take John Watson--"

"Don't be bloody daft, of course I do."

"Okay, John Watson, do you take Sherlock Holmes as your lawfully wedded husband?"

Silence.

As John stood there, not saying anything, murmurs rose from the crowd.

"John," Sherlock's voice brought the silence back, "Do you?"

"Oh, God yes."

"You may now--"

John reached forward and grabbed Sherlock in a tight hug. Sherlock returned it, leaning to whisper:

"I'm not scared of the crowds, you know."

"I know. But this feels more right for this moment."

"Agreed."

"Now Donovan came for nothing."

"Don't say that yet, there's still the reception."

"I'm not letting you near the drinks, Sherlock."

"Mm-hmm, try and stop me."

"I declare you, John and Sherlock Holmes!"

The crowd cheered, and the pair stepped back, still holding hands.

"I just remembered," Sherlock murmured quietly, "We never planned a honeymoon."

"Well," John suppressed a chuckle, "Let's hope someone gets murdered sometime soon."

"Where is Moriarty when you need him, huh?"

Sherlock's phone buzzed.

"I'M RIGHT HERE. x"

Sherlock smiled wide, trying not to double over laughing. How could he not have guessed?

"How do you think Molly will feel? Or Irene?"

"Who cares?"

"Ah. Well, off to the reception then."

"Yes! Away we go."