Happiness Found


.

"It was worth a wound; it was worth many wounds; to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation." –Arthur Conan Doyle

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Although it seemed like it would never come, the wedding between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes finally came. For Felicity, it had been a long time coming. Even though both men had practically raced each other to propose first, both men had dragged their heels when it came to the planning and execution of the wedding. They argued that they were busy, that they had cases, and even that Mycroft could handle everything, which if the situation wasn't so serious, would have made Felicity laugh. Of all the times Sherlock and John were willing to trust Mycroft implicitly, it was at their wedding?

Despite their reluctance, Felicity took charge of the situation. Of course, Mummy was a great help to her, especially because Sherlock and John agreed that she was safer at the Holmes Estate than she was at Baker Street when they were solving cases (which was all the time), and the two would spend hours debating ideas for the wedding. Both agreed that the idea of it taking place in a church wouldn't work. For one thing, neither John nor Sherlock were very religious. Also, same-sex marriages may have been legal, but there were very few churches that would allow a marriage between two men to occur on their property. With churches out of the question, Mummy and Felicity's attention briefly turned to public buildings, but ruled them all out because they didn't provide adequate protection or security. Finally, out of convenience and necessity, the two of them settled on holding the wedding at the Holmes Estate and arranged for another Holmes property out in Aldeburgh. It was private, on the coast, and, most importantly, safe. The property included about an acre of rolling grassland before it hit the coast, where a small but luxurious cottage was settled.

Once they had their two locations narrowed down, Felicity and Mummy set to figuring out the style of the wedding. Luckily, at that point, Felicity could finally remove her sling. Physical therapy time cut into her 'plan the wedding' time, but Felicity was more than grateful to get her arm back- she'd been going insane not being able to play the piano, comfortably read a book, type, etc. Planning the wedding was very fun. Because Sherlock and John weren't rushing to actually tie the knot, Felicity and Mummy could 'rush' at their own pace. Without a set deadline, they could smoothly work out all of the kinks. They decided to keep things very simple (after all, it was just Sherlock and Johnwere getting married). The grand entrance hall and foyer were going to be used for the ceremony- the foyer would hold all of the guests and the ceremony would take place at the mouth of the hallway. Once the ceremony was over, all the guests would have to do would be to walk down the hallway to the formal dining hall and, from there, to the ballroom.

There wouldn't be any decorations- just a plain white pedestal for the justice of the peace who would be conducting the ceremony. The chairs for the guests would be mahogany antiques from the marriage of Mr. Holmes to Mummy. Despite their age, Felicity found that they were quite comfortable and fit with the grandeur of the foyer and the entrance hall. Dinner would be a four course meal consisting of chicken and gnocchi soup with spinach gemolada, an apple and walnut endive salad, roasted quail with red grapes and pearl onions served with garlic mashed potatoes for the entrée, and cheesecake with lemon blueberry topping for dessert. Palate cleansing raspberry sorbet was to be served in between each course. Mummy was a bit of a food enthusiast, and since she had nothing but recourses and time, she constructed a menu for the wedding in less than a day.

With the meal taken care of, the responsibility of getting both men dressed appropriately fell to Felicity. For one thing, Mummy was still quite enamored with the meal she'd prepared. Also, even though she was Sherlock's mother, she couldn't convince him to do anything he'd set his mind against. Felicity, however, was the little girl who had him enamored within twenty minutes of their meeting. She'd convinced Sherlock to do all sorts of things, from eating vegetables to apologizing to John (John had gotten angry, convinced that Sherlock was playing a joke on him, that's how often Sherlock apologized to him), so getting him to dress appropriately shouldn't have been a challenge. Right? "Sherlock, you're wearing a suit now," Felicity said, exasperated, as she poked the detective in the stomach. She was back at Baker Street, trying to convince Sherlock of being fitted for a nicer suit.

"Irrelevant. My suits are an entirely different style than a formal suit." Sherlock claimed ridiculously, not moving the arm that was laying over his eyes to acknowledge Felicity.

"Sherlock. It. Is. Your. Wedding. You must wear a suit." Felicity told him, and when he said nothing, she drew herself up, prepared to do whatever was necessary to get him to agree. "I don't have to get your measurements from you, you know." Felicity said quietly, and Sherlock snorted.

"You already know my measurements- you could figure them out just by looking at me. Just because you have a suit made for me doesn't mean I'll wear it." Sherlock declared, managing to look smug even with his eyes hidden.

"What if I stole all your clothes and made your suit too small? You'd look like a fool at your own wedding." Felicity challenged.

"You wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't I?"

Sherlock removed his arm to glare at Felicity.

"I'll just wear the sheet off my bed. John likes it- that's enough for me." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, a smug look in place, clearly thinking he'd won. Felicity smiled back dangerously, and his smugness faltered. John, who was sitting across the room, smiled into his book and kept reading. He'd agreed to the suit gladly- it was better than his military uniform. While he and Sherlock were both proud of his military service, John didn't want to wear it. His time in the military came before Sherlock, and the last thing John wanted to do was to look to the past. Therefore, he'd been more than happy to get fitted for a classic grey suit by Brioni. John waved Felicity off repeatedly as she tried to describe it. He trusted her and he also trusted the fact that Mummy had probably given Felicity a wardrobe budget of about a hundred thousand pounds. He didn't want to think about the price. At. All. Instead, he pictured Sherlock in that nice of a suit and got distracted from his book.

"You forget, Sherlock, that I have friends. Power. I can delay your wedding forever if that's what it takes. If you try to elope, you'll be unable to legally wed. I've already got it all fixed, you see. I know that you and John were willing to wait, but not forever. And I can wait a lot longer than you can, trust me." Felicity leaned close, eyes as cold as ice. Sherlock glared back, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Fine," he muttered, and in an instant Felicity had given him a big hug.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed happily, and John chuckled. Sherlock sent him a look.

"Don't encourage that type of behavior, John. She's clearly spending too much time with Mycroft." Sherlock sniffed.

Once Sherlock had been blackmailed into dressing in a suit for his wedding, Felicity and Mummy picked a date and sent out the invitations. It would be a small wedding, nothing fancy, with only close friends and family attending. That meant a few members of the Holmes family would be attending (Great Uncle Rutherford sounded like an interesting fellow) but that also meant that Harry, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Donovan, hell, even Anderson were coming. Sherlock had made a lot of friends over the years as well on cases, and so people like the great chef Angelo were coming too. All in all, about one hundred guests were expected.

After Sherlock got particularly grumpy when Felicity reminded (ordered) Sherlock to write wedding vows, Felicity gave John a cheerful goodbye before going back to the Holmes Estate to help with the preparations and set up. The Holmes Estate didn't need much, but Felicity found herself swept up by the excitement of the wedding. She helped clean chairs that had been brought out of storage, she tasted the preliminary dinner that the cooks had made (with Mummy, of course), and chatted with the servants as she helped them clean. In no time all of the Holmes Estate was looking more beautiful than ever. Every available surface shone, and things were so neat and orderly the house looked like it belonged in a museum instead of being a place that people actually lived in.

The day before the wedding, Sherlock and John arrived in the mid-afternoon. They were supposed to come mid-morning, but they got a bit…distracted. The distraction may have involved John's old uniform (it wasn't being used in the wedding anyway) and a riding crop. Maybe. Possibly.

They spent most of the evening lying around the one room in the house reserved for 'being messy', as Mummy put it. It was the only room besides the kitchen and their own bedroom that anyone could exist in without, according to Mummy, making a mess. Sherlock wondered briefly if it would be worth the fight of setting up an experiment in the kitchen, but one look from John ended the idea. He brought up viewing Mummy's machine gun collection, but most of the guns had been sent into London for cleaning and storage during the wedding anyway. With nothing to make a fuss with, Sherlock ended up flopped on a loveseat, his head in John's lap, his long legs dangling off the edge. Felicity had her nose in a book (photosynthesis of monocots) and was quietly reading, her mind half on the wedding and half on the biological processes of certain plants. It was then, all of a sudden, that Sherlock realized he was missing a pop culture event. "John!" he cried, sitting up and nearly whacking his forehead, on John's chin. "John! Aren't you supposed to be somewhere? Aren't I supposed to be somewhere?"

"Where else would you be, you great git?" John asked mildly, and Sherlock scoffed at him.

"Aren't men supposed to have a party before their wedding? I believe it functions as an excuse to get drunk." Sherlock deadpanned, and John chuckled, rubbing his head.

"Oh, you mean a bachelor party- your last night as a 'free man'. Eh," John shrugged to voice his opinion on it, dropping his hand.

"Eh?" Sherlock repeated in a demanding tone, lifting an eyebrow. "What am I supposed to make of that?"

"You don't have to make anything," Felicity said from behind her book. "At seven o' clock Mycroft and Lestrade will arrive and sneak you out of the house. John, you're going with Mycroft- Lestrade will take you, Sherlock, and you won't come back until about four in the morning. It was supposed to be a surprise, but, eh," Felicity shrugged around her book.

"Again with the 'eh'?" Sherlock demanded, sitting up straighter in a rush of failing limbs.

"Wow, really? That's so nice of them." John noted, sounding thrilled. "Where are we going?"

"Surprise," Felicity reminded him, turning a page in her book, her tone absentminded.

"Oh, got it. Thanks, Felicity," John added, and Felicity gave him a brief thumbs-up. Sherlock leapt to his feet to pace, muttering 'eh' several times under his breath, and was ignored by both John and Felicity. When seven o' clock rolled around, he crouched in front of Felicity's chair, eyes alight with excitement.

"This was a ruse to distract me! What is really going on here?" Sherlock asked, and Felicity lowered her book and looked Sherlock dead in the eye, a perfect poker face on. They stared at each other for a minute straight, neither saying anything nor breaking eye contact, until Felicity spoke.

"Eh," She said in a nonchalant voice, and a muscle in Sherlock's jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing. Before he could utter another word, there was a knock on the door before Lestrade stuck his head in.

"Oh, hello, Lestrade!" John said cheerfully. Lestrade grinned at him, giving him a friendly nod.

"Ready to go, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, coming to stand next to Sherlock, who was watching Felicity intently.

"Where are you taking him, Lestrade?" John asked, giving Mycroft a friendly nod as the elder Holmes slipped in as well with a suspiciously blissful smile.

"Can't tell you, John. It's a surprise." Lestrade said, waggling his eyebrows. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You win this time, Felicity," Sherlock sounded like he'd rather be getting his teeth pulled than admit that, and Felicity lowered her book, flashing him a lovely smile, the one that never failed to melt him out of the worst of his wounds.

"Have fun!" She wished, smiling at every man in the room. Her heartfelt expression made Sherlock waver again. He knew that Felicity was up to something…but what? However, as he usually was when it came to Felicity, Sherlock found that he was happier not knowing. She had nothing but good intentions and had no reservations about trusting her- even if the nosy side of him wanted to know everything.

"We'll bring them back tomorrow, unhurt, as promised," Mycroft said in almost a dainty fashion, treating John to another rare but genuine smile as the doctor raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, I'm not the one to make promises to. If Mummy knew, you'd have to grovel to her, not me. Anyway, enjoy yourselves!" Felicity said brightly, and John swooped down and gave her a kiss on the forehead before leaving with Mycroft without complaint.

"Come on, Sherlock. You don't want to be late to your own party, do you?" Lestrade asked, and Sherlock gave him another withering eye-roll before planting a kiss on Felicity's cheek.

"You learned from the best, Felicity." He told her, and they both grinned at each other before Sherlock left, Lestrade bringing up the rear. Felicity waited exactly five minutes before shutting her book and heading down to the second floor. She reached the fifth door on the left and went in without knocking.

"They're gone. Finally." Felicity told Mummy Holmes, who was standing at the front of a firing range astride a very large machine gun, staring down her target. She turned to grin at her granddaughter.

"Is that so? Without fuss?" She questioned as Felicity climbed up the machine gun set aside for her.

"Sherlock suspected, of course, but as he said, I learned from the best. You." She giggled, and Mummy chuckled herself, passing Felicity a pair of ear-protectors. Felicity took them, checking her machine gun perfectly to make sure it was in working order before lining up a long clip of bullets into the slide.

"Don't stop until you're out," Mummy told her and they grinned at each other before putting on their earmuffs.

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When Sherlock woke up the next morning, he was mildly impressed with the size of his headache. It took quite a lot of alcohol to give him a hangover, but, then again, he had been drinking copious amounts of it with Lestrade. Head fuzzy and his tongue thicker than his latest experiment involving gelatin and a human liver, Sherlock dragged himself out of bed and to the ensuite bathroom. He was disappointed that John was nowhere to be found before he remembered another pop culture idea regarding weddings. It was bad luck to see the bride or groom before the ceremony. Pity, Sherlock thought. He had some interesting stories to tell John about his night…

Three floors down, John was engaging in similar activities. After a night of what he was pretty sure consisted of doing shots with Mycroft Holmes, John wanted nothing more than to show Sherlock the picture he'd found on his mobile of Mycroft in a sweatshirt and jeans, managing to look normal, downing a shot. How the British government himself had managed to pull of the night John had had, the doctor would never know. All he did know was that a) he was pleasantly surprised at how normal Mycroft could be, b) he had a hangover from hell, and c) Shit, I'm getting married. Today.

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Two hours later, guests were arriving, the waiting staff was servicing the open bar, and Sherlock and John were in separate rooms, enforced by Mycroft's goons and, of course, Felicity. She had gotten ready much more quickly than the two grooms (she didn't have a massive hangover to hold her back) and had taken it upon herself to keep the two apart and presentable for the ceremony. In a dress and heels it was a bit difficult, but once Felicity found out that she could use her shoe as a weapon to force Sherlock into taking ibuprofen for his headache, she got used to it. Once Sherlock was medicated, dressed, and entertained on the deal that if he spilled his experiment on himself Felicity would personally make him eat it, Felicity went to check on John.

"This is ridiculous," John huffed as he tried once again to tie his tie. He'd tied many ties before, but, for some reason, his fingers didn't want to cooperate that particular day. "Ah, hello," He greeted Felicity in the mirror as she came over, grinning.

"Hi yourself. Come here- let me tie that," Felicity requested, and John crouched, admiring how his suit moved easily with his body. He'd been worried that the expensive suit would stifle him and that it would be stiff and uncomfortable, but he found it to be the exact opposite. Felicity tied his silver tie with ease, smiling at the fabric. She had gone with matching suits for the two men- that way they couldn't nitpick each other's appearance. Both men were in light grey suits with black dress shirts underneath, which let the silvery tie stand out beautifully. On John, the suit showed off the power of his body, the military muscle. On Sherlock, he looked longer, leaner, and his throat looked almost unbearably elegant. For Felicity, she credited herself with a bit of evil plotting because she knew for a fact that the suits she'd chosen outlined the most favorite parts of the two men's lovers. John loved Sherlock's throat (she'd seen plenty of hickeys) and she knew that Sherlock couldn't keep his eyes off of John when he was wearing something that showed his muscular frame. "There you are," Felicity said, smoothing John's lapels and straightening the single white rose in his button-hole. Sherlock had one to match.

"Thanks, Felicity," John said gratefully, smoothing his hands on his legs nervously. She smiled knowingly in return, and gave him a hug, which John returned with enough force to nearly crush her.

"It's all going to be fine, trust me. Besides- you don't have any longer to worry; the wedding is starting soon," Felicity told him, and John leapt a foot and a half.

"Wait, everyone is here already?" John very nearly squeaked.

"Of course they are. Deep breaths, John. You invaded Afghanistan." Felicity reminded, pulling out her phone when it buzzed.

Come here at once.

-SH

"Oh god," John moaned to himself and Felicity hastily stuffed her phone out of sight.

"I've got to go, John. Just stay calm. Think about, I dunno, think about Sherlock! And cases! And, well, you'll think of something!" Felicity managed over her shoulder. She shot out of John's room and made it up two flights of stairs to find Sherlock. He was pacing the room he was in with aggressive strides, glowering at the wall.

"There you are. Is this wedding going to happen today or not?" He snapped as soon as Felicity slipped inside. Felicity checked her phone for the time just as Mummy texted her.

Are Sherlock and John ready? We have ten minutes before the nuptials start.

-Mummy

"Yes, actually. I'll walk you to your spot myself," Felicity said, and Sherlock huffed, clearly ready to sulk that he'd been pushed around all morning. "Quit sulking- this is the happiest day of your life," she lectured, and Sherlock shot her a glare.

"Setting the bar a bit low, aren't you?" He snarked, and Felicity stared at him for a moment, grinning. Sherlock was nervous. He had to be! She had never seen him in such an anxious and foul mood. He looked like a caged animal and he kept adjusting his tie as if he had half of a mind to rip it off. "What are you smirking at?" He very nearly barked, glowering at her happy complexion.

"Nothing," Felicity said innocently, taking Sherlock's hand and dragging him from the room, assuring Mummy with a lighting fast text that they were ready and being moved into position. "Got your vows?" Felicity prompted as she practically towed Sherlock through the house (him complaining all the while) and to the left door off of the entrance hall where he would enter for the ceremony.

"Yes, of course I do," Sherlock snapped, fidgeting with his cufflink. Felicity watched him glare at it for a moment, trying her hardest to hide her smile, but was unsuccessful.

"Sherlock?" She asked quietly.

"What?" Sherlock demanded, almost talking over her. His next barrage of insults and vocabulary was cut off in a slight oof noise that escaped from his throat when Felicity hugged him hard. He looked down at her in consternation for a moment before gladly hugging her back. She was centering him, banishing the stupid thoughts in his head about backing out, about John not loving him, about messing up his vows. She calmed him down, reminded him of what was important.

"I'm really glad you're getting married," She mumbled into his suit, and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

"I am too," he said quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest. After a moment, Felicity stepped back, wiped her eyes, and frowned at him, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm trying to run a wedding here, and you're distracting me," She mock chastised, and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now, stay." She demanded, pointing a stern finger at him before running off. She dragged John from the upstairs as well, getting him to the door on the right side of the entrance hall. She brushed off his suit, gave him a big hug, and calmed him down by telling John that Sherlock was just as nervous (which seemed to cheer John considerably). Once both men were in place, she texted Mummy furiously:

They are in position. I'll get the rings and wait outside.

-Felicity

Her mission complete, Felicity took the two rings, which were sitting on a silver pillow, and retired to the front door, smiling at the stark white limo that would take Sherlock and John away once the wedding was over. She heard Mummy call everyone to their seats and turn the floor over to the justice of the peace. She heard the two doors open and had to stop herself from peeking in a window to see how John and Sherlock looked at each other. Luckily, she'd gotten a photographer to be present, so there would be photos from the wedding for her to look at, which was better than nothing. She settled down on the steps and listened to all of the meaningless babble about why they were gathered and how the marriage would be lawful and everything that was already painfully obvious. Finally, the justice asked for the rings. One of the footmen pulled the door open for her, and off Felicity went. There was no rug in the aisle, so her shoes clicked neatly on the marble entryway as she entered. Guests on both sides practically beamed at her as she traveled down the aisle, pillow in hand. The justice of the peace looked amused, and John and Sherlock looked equal parts nervous and excited as she approached.

Felicity handed the rings to the justice and accepted a hug from each of her dads before sitting next to Mummy in the first row, ready to hear the vows. She noted that John's eyes were starting to well up already and Sherlock's usually elegant fingers were shaking and clumsy, despite all of his acting. With each other's ring in hand, both men stared at each other, suddenly lost for words. The intensity of their gazes reminded Felicity of how they used to stare at each other on cases, but this was much stronger. Then, John cleared his throat, shifted his feet, and raised his chin, his stance edging towards militaristic again. He looked at the ring for Sherlock in his palm, smiling at it.

"You are the greatest git I've ever known. From the first time I met you up until now, I have never known a better man. You are the most complex, caring and intelligent person I will ever meet. Your moods, your methods…just you. I love you." John told him, an odd, crooked smile pulling at his mouth as Sherlock blinked furiously, looking away, determined not to cry at his wedding. "Everything about you is fascinating, everything you do is amazing, and you have taught me so many things. You saved me from a depressed life, living on an army pension with that damn limp. You are literally the best thing to have ever happened to me. I have followed you through hell, believed in you when no one else did, and I will never regret any moment I spend with you for the rest of my life." John told Sherlock, his smile getting a bit watery, and Felicity spotted a few tears rolling down Sherlock's proud cheekbones. When it became clear that John was finished, he coughed a bit, shifting as well and clearing his throat. He refused to acknowledge the tears on his face, so the rolled down to his collar and vanished.

"John, I pride myself on being well-spoken, and yet it is very difficult for me to muster the words that could possibly describe the emotion I feel for you," Sherlock started, looking determinedly over John's head. "Before I met you, I was the type of person that I loathe, and yet I could do nothing to better myself. I was selfish, pushy, and unbearably cruel. Before I had a teacher, someone who could educate as well as love, I did not know how to make my life more bearable. When I first met you, I knew that you were different. Others might peg you as ordinary, but I thought I saw completely below the surface. I thought that I knew you completely that first day, but I was horribly mistaken. You are the first person in my entire life to continuously surprise me. I will never know every facet of your existence, but I hope to try- for you are the most perfect thing I have ever encountered, and I love you, my dear Watson." Sherlock finished, and if John wasn't crying (which he was), Felicity had shed enough tears with the readings of both of their vows to compensate. She had just been given a glimpse at true love, and that was something she would never forget.

"Exchange rings," the justice guided, and John and Sherlock slid their rings upon each other's fingers and didn't let go. "Your marriage is now legal. Please, kiss," She gestured, and in seconds the two men were kissing fervently and the small audience had broken into applause. The two men kissed a few more times, beaming at each other as the justice slipped away and the applause died down. Exchanging vows is an odd yet such a powerful experience that both men would think back to that moment for a long time. Both of them had been shocked by what the other had said, as if they still couldn't believe that they'd really found someone who loved them that much. They also felt a love so strong that it almost burned as it cascaded over them with enough force to leave them breathless.

"Cocktail hour will be held in the ballroom, ladies and gentlemen. It is straight back through this hall. Take your time upon arriving and may I bestow my happiest wishes upon Sherlock, John, and their marriage." Mummy Holmes spoke clearly, delight clear in her voice although she kept her tone elegant and calm. She gestured down the hallway, kissed each man on the cheek, and then strode away. The small audience followed her up until where Sherlock and John were standing, where they bombarded the happy couple with congratulations and love.

Felicity hung back, smoothing her dress and letting out a shuddery breath. The wedding ceremony had made her so happy that she was practically winded, and needed a moment to shake the emotionally draining feeling. "It's all such a rush, isn't it, dear?" Mrs. Hudson was suddenly beside her, making Felicity nearly jump out of her skin. She had seen Mrs. Hudson being one of the first to congratulate Sherlock and John, and Felicity had assumed that the older woman would then proceed to the ballroom to have another hearty talk with Mummy, but she'd been mistaken. "Oh, I didn't mean to scare you, dear," Mrs. Hudson tutted, rubbing Felicity's arm comfortingly.

"No, it's alright. You're completely right- the whole thing just hit me all at once and I wasn't even the one getting married!' Felicity exclaimed, and Mrs. Hudson smiled knowingly.

"You have every right to be a little tired, dear. You put a lot of work into the wedding and you have every reason to be a bit emotional about the whole thing as well. You take as much time as you need and I'll keep the vultures away," Mrs. Hudson told her conspiratorially, and Felicity smiled after her as she distracted one of Sherlock's relatives from approaching her. More grateful than ever for Mrs. Hudson, Felicity took a deep breath, stood, straightened her skirt, and then dove into the fray.

She talked and laughed with a lot of guests and Sherlock's relatives before she ran into the couple themselves. Sherlock had his long arm around John's trim waist and they were talking to Angelo (who was catering their honeymoon, although neither groom knew that). Felicity had been talking to Sherlock's Aunt Emilie who only spoke French, and the elderly lady had a habit of leaning forward when she spoke, so much that Felicity, in backing up to avoid colliding heads with her, had ran into Sherlock's back. He spoke quick and fluid French to his Aunt, wrapped his other arm around Felicity's shoulders, and pulled her next to his side.

"Ah! There is the forever lovely Felicity." Angelo crowed, swooping down to press a kiss to each of her cheeks. "You did a wonderful job, my dear," he told her warmly, and Felicity smiled up at him.

"Thanks, Angelo, but the true thanks go to Mrs. Holmes. She's in the ballroom if you want to tell her your congratulations," Felicity said, and Angelo kissed her forehead and set off for the ballroom.

"Well, for all your meddling and blackmailing, I thought the wedding was rather nice," Sherlock told her with mock stiffness, and she elbowed his side lightly.

"It's not over yet, genius. There's still dinner and dancing and then, well, the rest of your lives. But yes, I thought the ceremony was beautiful." Felicity agreed, and John chuckled as Sherlock rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on his family.

"I'm not dancing," Sherlock announced, and John chuckled again, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Yes you are," he murmured into his lips, and then pulled the detective down towards the ballroom. Dancing and cocktails were served for about an hour and a half, and Sherlock did dance and he did, although he wouldn't admit it, had fun. Felicity danced with practically everyone, so blissfully happy she couldn't believe any of it was real.

Dinner was a loud and happy affair. Although the venue and the food were gourmet, the company shook off the need for fancy, oppressive silence and had a good time. Jokes were told, laughter was had, and the dinner quickly disappeared. Felicity sat between Lestrade and John so that she could talk with her family and the DI as well as watch Mummy and Angelo get into an increasingly intense conversation about food. As the night wore on, the bar was opened and the guests danced most of the night away until at about eleven at night Sherlock and John went to take their leave. It was getting late and they were eager to start their lives together (again) via their honeymoon. The guests yelled a loud goodbye to them, but Felicity walked the two men down the now empty entrance hall and to the front steps, where the white limo was still waiting. As they arrived at the limo, John leaned down and pressed a kiss to Felicity's head, giving her a hug. "We'll be back soon, alright?" He told her, and Felicity grinned at him.

"Don't come back too soon." Felicity told him, and John chuckled, kissing her head again before stepping back so that Sherlock could take his turn. He knelt down and enveloped her, noting that he couldn't completely hide her with his frame quite as well as he used to. Felicity had grown- her head now rested in the joint between his neck and shoulder where before she could barely hide in his chest. An odd lump formed in his throat and he hugged her tight. He dismissed the emotional reaction to think about later- now was not the time.

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do while we're gone," he told her, and she started laughing. Sherlock pulled away, confused at why she was laughing.

"That is a completely conflicting statement, I hope you know. You and John would do completely opposite things in some situations. What am I to do?" Felicity challenged, shooting a grin at John when he chuckled. Sherlock looked at her for a moment, his heart swelling with love before he got a hold of himself, rising to his feet.

"Bother Mycroft for me, as much as possible." Sherlock instructed, and Felicity burst out into giggles.

"I will," She promised, and Sherlock bent down to kiss her cheek. She watched her two fathers get into the limo and drive away and the same feeling of utter relief and bliss that she'd felt when the two got engaged washed over her. Now she was truly sure that, despite the sacrifices and the suffering she'd gone through, she would be forever protected by Sherlock and John.

"Felicity! There you are!" Mycroft's voice suddenly jerked her out of her thoughts. She hadn't realized how long she'd been standing out there, and Mycroft, of all people, would have been the one to notice. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, coming to a stop beside her. Felicity flashed him a small smile.

"Nothing." She told him, noticing that he seemed strangely worried- a bit more overprotective than usual, but she wrote it off as emotion from the wedding. If she knew the Holmes brothers as well as she thought she did, she knew that they bottled up so much emotion that sometimes they weren't aware that some had escaped. Mycroft, in his usual 'protect my brother' way, would now focus his attentions on all of Sherlock's family- and that included her.

"Then come inside- you'll catch a chill out here. Besides, Aunt Emilie is looking for anyone who can speak French besides Mummy and I." Mycroft told her, the emotion vanishing and a wry smile taking its place. Letting him wrap an arm around her shoulders, Felicity allowed Mycroft to take her back to the party to talk with her great-Aunt.

As Mycroft left, looking for a drawing room that he could nurse a gin and think in private, Mummy appeared at his elbow. Her expression said everything. With a sigh, he hooked arms with her and led her to the room he'd been looking for. As soon as the door was closed, she started talking.

"You've been lucky this far, Mycroft, that Sherlock hasn't figured things out yet. You've been careful to keep him in the dark, but sooner or later he will find out. If by some miracle you continue to keep him in the dark, things will only get worse." Mummy told him coolly as he poured a gin by the drinking cabinet.

"To anyone but you, my actions tonight would have been nothing but what they were- sincere." Mycroft told her without turning around.

"Mycroft, it is not as if I do not believe that you care for Felicity- because you know I do. This is about being honest and putting this case to rest." Mummy said in a softer tone, but her voice was still firm. Mycroft sighed and settled down at the hearth in one of the large armchairs placed there just for the sole purpose of thinking. Mummy sat in the one opposite, her hard stare not leaving him for an instant.

"I wanted to give Sherlock time. When I first was debriefed on the Muller situation, I knew that by letting Felicity become close to Sherlock would help her as well as hurt her. It was convenient in the way that security was already watching Sherlock and, therefore, adding a bit to ensure that Felicity was well protected wouldn't come to pass as suspicious. However, Sherlock is a direct link to crime and the…persons looking for the information they are seeking. My program worked perfectly until Sebastian Moran's abduction forced us to broadcast her name and face all over the city. I feared that he would work directly with them, but the fact that he wasn't changes nothing. They have seen her, know who she associates with, and know where she lives." Mycroft paused, running a hand over his face.

"Who will you tell first? Felicity, or Sherlock and John?" Mummy asked. Mycroft sighed heavily, taking a sip of gin.

"I have no idea."


A/N: Hello again! I know that I said that Innocence Lost was finished as in, finished, but I received a lot of reviews from people asking me to write a sequel. Considering I felt like a dick not including a blurb about the wedding in the first place, I thought I'd offer up something and segway into what could very possibly be a sequel. Tell me what you think, and thank you all again!

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