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The wedding was beautiful. The autumn leaves spice-filled air made for a marvellous backdrop. Typically, the town’s tradition dictated that all marriages must be held in the church, but after the last wedding events, the Holmes family was apart of they were allowed to bend the rules.
It was sunset as they said their vows, under two intertwining willow trees. As opposed to whomever in town, a smaller affair with only close friends and family were in attendance. Sherlock had never been so happy in his life. Throughout the whole experience, John never stopped smiling. Greg and Mycroft shared the duties of Best Man; although Victoria did most of the leg work.
Mr and Mrs Holmes were in attendance decked in specially made attire for the occasion. Mr Holmes had outdone himself. The only ones who looked more stunning than them were the Grooms. They had thoroughly approved of John when they had the chance to meet him upon returning to the country. Mrs Holmes had taken one pattened look at him and saw how much he loved their child. John still had trouble breathing on occasion from how hard she had hugged him.
As they kissed, the assembly stood and clapped with a few Whoops and Catcalls from Sholto and Greg.
The first dance for the happy couple was a sweet if a bit sombre, tune.
“I wrote this for you,” Sherlock spoke softly in John’s ear as they danced.
“You never told me you could write music,” John said surprised, lifting his head from Sherlock’s chest.
“I had a feeling it would be important later. I don’t get much time for it, but I made a point of it for you. For this.” Sherlock looked deeply into John’s eyes, trying to read his response. He didn’t have to wait long as John kissed him. Briefly, fully aware of the onlookers. Ending the kiss, he said,
“Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.” John laid his head back onto Sherlock’s chest, and they finished the dance.
The end of the dance brought a jaunty tune for the rest of the guests to participate in. The two newlyweds walked over to a nearby table to take a seat. Not long after they sat, the couple were greeted by Greg and Mycroft.
“I see you finally bucked up your own courage there Mycroft,” Sherlock remarked, eyeing the new ring on Greg’s finger.
“We were goin’ ta tell ya-” Greg began.
“But we didn’t want to pull away from your own celebration, brother dear,” Mycroft finished, failing to give his brother a sharp look as pride overcame him.
“Well, we are happy for you. I’m glad you are going to remain as happy as you have these past few months, Greg.” John said, grabbing his friend’s arm.
“Me too mate, me too,” Greg responded wistfully. “Hey, sorry your sister couldn’t make it, John, I know she would have been right happy for you. Both of you.” Greg said, giving Sherlock a look.
“Well, yes, uh thank you, Greg,” Sherlock replied flustered looking everywhere but at John.
“I think we should leave the two of you, for now, I suspect others will want to give their own congratulations,” Mycroft interjected trying to keep tensions light. “Sherlock, Jon.” He nodded to each as Greg hugged both before they left to rejoin the festivities.
The rest of their time was spent talking to the rest in assembly. Before the night got too late, the happy couple left to many farewells and renewed congratulations.
They arrived home happy looking forward to the holiday that would begin the following day. A little cottage that had been in Sherlock’s family for generations. It wasn’t much, and in many ways, it was similar to what they already had. But it would be just them. Just Sherlock and John. They’d thought about venturing to the continent to visit more fair-weathered locals, but neither wanted to venture very far so soon after everything. Perhaps in the future, they had a long life ahead of them both that they could live together.