10:34.

Sherlock had never been so nervous. His eyes dart back to the little red clock every few seconds as he stood in front of the mirror. His large hands messed with his hair, fussing with it and trying to make it look better despite the fact Molly had been kind enough to help him with it for a whole hour earlier today. The detective straightens his clothes for a moment before returning to fussing with his curls.

None if it helped. He couldn't calm the nerves

In under half an hour he was to be married, in front of all his friends and family, to the man he loved. He was an excited, happy, bundle of nerves.

"Brother mine, you're being absolutely ridiculous. Everything is going just fine.. And for God's sake will you stop! Your hair looks fine" Mycroft spoke from his position on the small black loveseat on the other side of the room.

Why Sherlock had wanted his brother to be the one present, while he had a mini panic attack in this little church room, was a mystery to both of the Holmes brothers.

"Piss off, Mycroft. I have every right to be nervous" Sherlock snaps, running his shakey hands through his hair once more.

He then drops them to his side and faces his brother. The Government official was sat straight, his umbrella resting against his knee and his suit immaculate. Mycroft gives his brother a smile, one that Sherlock hadn't seen for a long time. He looked genuinely happy for Sherlock, if still a little peeved about Sherlock's 'unnecessary' nerves.

"It'll be fine Sherlock. The man loves you as dearly as you do him" Mycroft says, leaning back into seat and getting comfortable.

"Why do you seem so.. happy and sincere? What happened to 'caring is not an advantage' and 'love being a chemical defect'?" Sherlock asks, his tone surprisingly non-hostile.

Mycroft pauses and Sherlock can see his brother carefully debating with himself over his reply to those questions. The younger Holmes waits patiently, honestly curious as to why Mycroft was acting different.

Perhaps it was simply an act to please Mummy on her youngest sons wedding day. Most likely to be the only wedding she gets from her children. Unless Mycroft found himself a 'goldfish'.

"I.." Mycroft seems to reconsider at the last moment "Am I not allowed to be proud of my little brother for achieving something we both doubted we'd ever find?"

"Doubted? I've given you hope that you may one day find love?" Sherlock frowns. Of all the things Mycroft could say, he went with something that shocked Sherlock.

Mycroft hums "Maybe not love. But companionship.. In a way you've helped me see a brighter side to being in a world of goldfish. If Sherlock Holmes can find love then maybe his brother can find a friend.."

It was odd. Sherlock felt as though they were.. bounding. Was that possible? Had Sherlock honestly changed Mycroft's perspective on those of average intelligence and now they were closer because of it?

"That's nice.. I suppose. Anyone in mind to be your.. companion?" Sherlock smirks, unable to tame the teasing, condescending side of him.

"Oh, please do change the subject. Isn't it enough that I admitted you changed my view on something as seemingly significant as love?" Mycroft rolls his eyes at his little brother.

While Sherlock vaguely liked the idea of having a closer bound to his brother, he preferred this. Banter and avoidance of sentiment. Mycroft was a cold person, a logical person. And as selfish as it was, Sherlock needed Mycroft that way when around him to be sane. He'd choose Smart brother over Nice brother any day.

Sherlock runs a hand through his hair then, looking down at the floor. With a small sigh Sherlock turns back to the mirror, glancing at the clock again (10:47) before he studies his reflection. The usual dark circles from lack of sleep were gone, thanks to the eight hours he got last night. His own suit was the highest quality and midnight black. It fit snuggly, as did the waist coat and white shirt underneath. He also had on a black bowtie, both to humour John and his fandom and because it was traditional.

A smile graces the detectives features as he thinks of John. His husband-to-be. His adorable little army doctor with all the bravery and loyalty a friend could ask for, with all the love and passion a lover could wish for, with all the understanding and morals that anyone could ever hope for.

Sherlock's heart sped up a little at the thought of his blogger. He'd never felt this for anyone before, this kind of true love seemed so unreal and so fake before John had entered his life. It had changed him as a person, Sherlock was more human now. All thanks to John Watson.

Well, soon to be Holmes-Watson.

Sherlock was brought out of his thoughts up the door opening. His nerves pick up again as he glances at the clock again.

10:56. Showtime.

Molly and his mother enter the room, grinning at him. Both had unshed tears in their eyes already. Molly gently takes Sherlock by the arm, tugging to get him to unfreeze.

He sends her a thankful smile before he starts for the door, mentally preparing to take his place at the alter. A hand pulls him back and he's met with the grinning face of his mother.

"Sherlock.. You look wonderful" She gashes, wrapping her arms around her sons neck. He has to stand a little awkwardly, due to the height difference, but he hugs back anyway, the presence of his mother calming him.

One hug from her and he felt he could do anything. Obviously, it was nothing compared to John's warm embraces. But this was different. This was his mother accepting him, praising him, happy for him. She wanted to see Sherlock happy and in love more then anyone.

Eventually she pulls away, more tears collecting but not falling. Happy tears, Sherlock notes with a smile.

She then turns him and gives him a small push towards the door. "Go marry the love of your life"

Sherlock nods, quickly kissing both women on the cheek and thanking them before he steps out of the room.

He stands by the alter, the grooms by his side. All three of them, including Mycroft, gave him a smile. All happy for him. Lestrade was stood where the best man would but John and Sherlock had decided against Maid of Honour and Best Man. They didn't want to have such a traditional wedding. It was a small reception, close friends and family only. The other groom, also the ring bearer, was Mike Stamford, the man who had brought the couple together.

Sherlock stands in front of the crowd, smiling at the familiar people. Ms Hudson, Janine, his parents, Molly, Mary. Then there were some he didn't know as well. His future in law (John's mother), Clara (Harry was with John, in another room) then a couple he assumed were relatives or close friends of John's.

It was a lovely little set up.

The music starts then, erupting from the five small speakers that were placed around the room and tearing Sherlock from his thoughts as he waits for the large door to open and for John to walk down the isle on his sisters arm.

Half way through the music the door still didn't open. Sherlock felt a lump form in his throat, his heart clenching and unclenching rapidly. Then the door opened just a crack and a females hand was shaking, saying 'Stop!' in a way. The music cuts off and the crowd murmur, confused.

Ms Hudson and Clara stand, rushing to the door to speak to the hand which belongs to Harry Watson.  The two women slide past the door, disappearing from view.

Sherlock could feel his pulse thumping in his ears and he fidgets. What's happening? Is John ill? Nervous? Has he changed his mind?

Sherlock's heart drops at the thought, a frown on his face now. Did John suddenly decided he didn't want to marry the detective, didn't love him or want to be with him?

A hand was placed on Sherlock's shoulder and he turns to see Lestrade smiling encouragingly. Sherlock nods, Lestrade is right. John wouldn't do that. John loved him too. The man had said so often, even to others. He said it more often then Sherlock and the detective says those words to his John almost every day, if not everyday.

Two minutes drag by and some of the crowd had began to give Sherlock worried looks. He felt the urge to snap at them, but he didn't. He waits, patiently, for whatever problem has arisen to be solved.

Five minutes pass and Sherlock is having a mental breakdown. A voice had appeared in the back of his mind, whispering to Sherlock with venom dripping from it's tone.

John doesn't love you. He's run off. He doesn't love you, Sherlock. He never has.

John Watson doesn't love you.

Sherlock refuses to believe the voice and steps into his mind palace, going through various memories of John to prove to his inner voice that John did love him and did want to be here. He was here, he had to be, if must just be stage fright.

He doesn't love you Sherlock.

The detective let's out a small growl before pulling up the memory of John agreeing to marry him as he sneers at the voice inside his head. Does this look like a man who doesn't love me?

--

We were at Angelo's the night I proposed, though I barely noticed the other people.

All I could focus on was my bloggers face.

I watched as his expression changed from confusion to shock and then to happiness, pure raw happiness, as I lowered to one knee and removed the small black box from my coat.

A single tear slid down his cheek as he sat, waiting for me to speak because he knew me well enough to know I would have prepared a small speech of some kind.

I loved the fact he knew me that well. Just as I did him, genius or not. No, it had nothing to do with intelligence. I knew him because I love him and he knew me because he loves me.  

"John.." My voice is heavy with emotion to even my own ears "I love you, so so much. We've been through all sorts and I know that I never want anyone else by my side. So, my love, will you spend the rest of our forever by my side as my husband?"

With a shakey hand I remove the ring and hold it, ready to put on his finger. I lift my other hand, asking for his, should he wish to accept.

John sucks in a deep breath, wiping away the single tear on his cheek as he gets out of his seat and kneels in front of me. His eyes meet my own as his hand is placed in mine.

I just stare at him, taken by surprise at his beauty as I always was when he looked so happy because of me. I was the one making John this happy. Me. I made him happy, as happy as he made me.

"Sherlock.." He whispers, chuckling softly as he wiggles his fingers. "Put the ring on me"

I snap myself out of it, blushing a little as I slide the band onto his engagement finger. It fit perfectly. I tried to not be smug about the fact I knew the exact measurements for the ring just from holding his small hand in mine.

My hand, which previously held the ring, goes to his jaw and I bring him close, my lips softly meeting his in a slow yet meaningful kiss. I'm only vaguely aware of the people and the noise around us. 

"Is that a yes?" I whisper with a cheeky smile.

"God, yes" John laughs back, kissing me once more.

--

"Sherlock!!" Harry's voice snapped him out of his mind palace. 

The detective blinks and looks at his future sister-in-law. Her face showed only panic as she shook Sherlock back into reality with those two word's he'd dreaded. The small voice in the back of his head was having a field day, dancing around and screaming  I TOLD YOU! 

"Wha.. What?" Sherlock chokes out, his heart lightening fast. 

Harry looks pained as she repeats herself. 

"John's gone"