"How's my hair?"
"Your hair is fine."
"Are you sure? You didn't even look at it."
"Yes, I'm sure. You make a ravishing bride."
"Piss off."
"You asked."
"I'm serious Sherlock, do I look, er suitable?" John said, turning to face the morose detective with desperation plainly on his features.
Sherlock sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. He stood and made his way over to John, walking around him slowly with a keen eye. He traced over every line of the rented tux and how it shaped to John's form, he checked the accessories, and was even happy to see that John had taken Sherlock up on his gift as the best man, and gotten himself a proper straight razor shave.
Sherlock paused in front of John who was gnawing on his thumbnail for the moment until Sherlock slapped his hand away, "Oi!" John growled.
Sherlock just huffed out some air and stared at John intently, "You meet and exceed all expectations Dr. Watson. Dr. Hooper will be ecstatic."
John, grumbling a bit, but trying to hide his smirk nodded his thanks, "I'm sure they're busy this morning, don't you think?"
"Yes," Sherlock replied with a certain weight to his words, "Yes, I do believe they will have their hands full," he sighed and then straightened, "though Kairi was making every single effort to ensure Molly's perfect day would not unravel."
John smiled warmly, "You know she really is something. She's done so much for us — even when you were away and she was hurting, she still did so much for me and Molly."
Sherlock nodded, a tightness to his throat his logical brain found distasteful, "Yes, she happens to be…well, something." He finished with affection.
John smiled fully this time, "Do you think you'll get up here next?"
Sherlock shot him a narrow eyed look, tilting his head in contemplation, "What do you mean?"
John waved his hands about the dressing room to the old church, "All this," he smiled, "a wedding, a family at some point — domesticity." He teased.
Sherlock's lip curled in revulsion for a moment, but thoughts of Kairi bathed in a flowing white gown, sharing a home with her, and the eventuality of giggling, floppy hair children running about his feet registered as something warm deep in his gut. He didn't allow himself to display this emotion and instead just shrugged, "We are taking things slowly."
John chuckled and clapped Sherlock on the arm, "You've taken that from a magazine or something."
Sherlock glared this time, "Well someone important must have said it at one point or another, doesn't matter if it's from a magazine." He turned towards the mirror as a dismissal and began to fiddle with his tie, "Besides, today is not about me," he began with an exaggerated sense of annoyance, "it's about the lovely couple." He looked up in the mirror, back over his shoulder to where John reflection was, his lips pressed together to stifle his laughter. Sherlock allowed himself a small smile.
"Well, you're right, I'll give you that. Today is all about me and Molly, so don't get any funny ideas about murder or beheadings or terrorist cells, you understand? They can wait a day — until we are on holiday and you go back to doing whatever it is you do." John chuckled, waving a warning finger.
Sherlock just sighed, allowing his body to aid his dramatic resignation, "Very well."
John grinned as Sherlock turned, they stood only a foot or so apart, both facing the one thing that brought them out of the initial darkness. For John, Sherlock had reminded him of purpose, of duty, of acknowledging your gifts and doing all you can with them. To Sherlock, John was the very essence of bravery, loyalty, and friendship. He did not know where he would be today without John Watson.
