The much-awaited wedding ceremony was a lovely affair. Mary looked beautiful as ever in her ivory-coloured wedding dress, complete with a dazzling smile etched on her face. She was absolutely glowing as she stood next to John at the altar, who looked utterly fixated on his new wife.
John looked the happiest you had ever seen him to be; he looked dapper and radiant and had an air of confidence about him that was hard to miss. Mary was good for him and he deserved happiness after everything that this life had thrown at him.
Sherlock on the other hand was the complete opposite. He looked stiff and impassive as he stood next to John. His eyes would occasionally drift to yours and you would give him a reassuring smile.
Just a few hours ago, you had found Sherlock anxiously pacing the living area. It was not an uncommon sight, having seen Sherlock in a state much similar when working on cases. At the sight of you at the door, he began to vent about weddings and love and marriages and how utterly stupid and pointless it all was.
You could deal with a Sherlock Holmes pacing, and ranting, and desperately trying to piece the pieces together to catch an offending criminal. But this version of him was a rare sight, with which you had not previously dealt with.
You, and everyone else for that matter, knew how rattled Sherlock was with the entire wedding situation. He brushed it off whenever someone hinted at it; trying desperately to show how unfazed he was with the whole ordeal. He was not one to welcome change with open arms and he could deny it all he wanted; that marriage was just an elaborate contract between two people followed by a false celebration. Why would that change absolutely anything? But a small part of him could already sense how quickly he was becoming more and more disconnected from his best friend. He would never admit it out loud, but he mourned the good old days of when it was just him and John against the rest of the world.
Which is why you had been rendered speechless at the sight of the ever-composed and poised detective letting his guard down in front of you, inadvertently admitting to the fact that he was indeed, terrified of what was to follow.
Talk about wedding nerves
"Sherlock hey, you're going to be okay," you had tried to reassure him, placing your hand firmly on his arm. "Everything is going to be fine. Before you know it, all of this is going to be over and everything will be back to the way it was."
The wedding, yes. Hopefully there was no double meaning to what you had said.
It was a pathetic attempt at trying to calm him down, you were aware, nevertheless it got him to stop pacing. He finally made note of your appearance, and proceeded to make a rather quick scan down the length of your body. Such an act would usually leave you feeling uncomfortable and fidgety, but seeing the circumstances you smirked at him playfully.
"Like what you see?" you had said in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He frowned in response.
"You look nice. Handsome, even."
He didn't say anything for a while and then, "You've opted for a necklace of a shorter length in an attempt at drawing attention to your face rather than to your rather small..." he paused upon noticing you purse your lips, and then mumbled quietly , "I suppose you don't look too bad either."
A compliment was always a compliment no matter what shape or form it was delivered in, especially when it came from Sherlock. You couldn't help but smile at the thought.
Breaking out of your train of thought, you watched as John and Mary exchanged their wedding vows and placed a hand on Mrs. Hudson's arm on the seat next to you as she wiped away her tears.
YOU ARE READING
The Sign of Three: A Reader's Journey
Fanfiction"They're in love, they look happy," you said, sighing softly as you watched Mary offer John a bite of her canapés. "Cocaine is cheaper and would also induce the same effect." The man was brutally cynical and there was nothing you could say to change...
