Hey everyone, this is a new story from Blair about the wedding of Sherlock Holmes, uploaded by me Heather2910! Enjoy

It was an odd affair, to say the least.

John almost didn't believe it. He pinched himself for the fortieth time that week. It couldn't truly be happening. Any minute now Sherlock would come to his senses and call the whole thing off.

The detective was currently reading a book while sipping a cup of tea. John stared at him, not even bothering to hide it.

Sherlock looked up. "Not that I'm not used to stares, John, but this is going a bit over the top, isn't it? People get married all the time."

"People who aren't you!" John protested. "You told me you were married to your work! How did THIS happen?"

The detective sighed. "You were there for the whole thing, John. The, what would you call it, proposal. You saw how it happened. What is the actual question?"

John shook his head. "Nevermind. I guess there's no talking you out of this."

"You've already tried. Several times." Sherlock said, eyes on his book.

"You're really planning on carrying through."

"Yes."

"You're getting hitched. Tying the knot. Married."

"Yes."

"To... to..."

"YES, John, YES! I AM doing this!" Sherlock yelled, a bit exasperated. John held up his hands.

"Okay, okay. Alright, you are. I'll just have to deal with it. The strange turn of events where you get married before me. The even stranger event where you actually get married. Okay." He babbled. Sherlock glanced at him.

"I think you should stop talking and go buy milk now."

"Right." John didn't argue. He grabbed his shoes and wallet and headed for the nearest Tesco's.

As he walked, he tried to collect his thoughts and come to terms with the fact that his sociopathic flatmate was deeming it wise to get married.

It was a dark and stormy night...

Actually, scratch that. It was a pretty cheerful day, to be honest. Sherlock and John were both working on their laptops at 221B, John updating his blog and Sherlock researching breeds of poisonous sea urchins.

There was a knock at the door. "John, go let Lestrade in." Sherlock said. John got up and went downstairs, where he wasn't even surprised to see the Detective Inspector at their door.

"Got one for Sherlock. Think he'll like it." Lestrade told John. John showed him in.

"He's in a bit of a mood today, though." John cautioned the man. Lestrade nodded.

"Oi, Holmes. Got a case. Interested?" He called. Sherlock made a gesture indicating Lestrade should continue.

Lestrade obliged. "The Crown Jewels were taken again. The thing is, they don't know how. The videotapes literally show that they were there one second, gone the next. Nobody knows how it happened. The case is all sealed up, no alarms were sounded, no guards were injured. They've just vanished into thin air."

Sherlock listened intently. Staring at Lestrade silently, he closed his laptop.

"Any ideas?" Pressured Lestrade when minutes had gone by without a word.

"Oh yes, twelve. Seven highly improbable, two probably impossible. I'll need to see the tapes." He got up and snatched his coat and scarf. "Come along, John, Lestrade."

When they had reached the site, Sherlock immediately went to examine the room for prints. Finding none, he then searched for any sort of clue.

On top of the glass case he felt something under the metal. A very fine layer was pushed upwards.

"I need a crowbar." He told Lestrade.

"Why?" The man asked. John looked at him.

"Just get him the damn crowbar."

Once Sherlock had pried the metal off the top he came up with a scrap of paper. On it was a yellow smiley face and a small rubbing of some blocked letters.

"John. It's him again. We have to get to the graveyard." Sherlock tossed the crowbar aside, striding out into the sunlight.

"Wait, what about the bloody jewels?" Lestrade cried after him. "Sherlock, this is important!"

"The jewels are safe and you'll have them tomorrow by noon at the latest, you have my guarantee. Now, I have to go and it's no cops allowed, so farewell." Sherlock took off running.

Lestrade looked helplessly at John, who rubbed his forehead. "Well, we know we can trust him, at least. Just... I don't know. Give him time. I have to catch up with him." And he started running after Sherlock.

He caught up to his friend just as Sherlock was hailing a taxi. "Forrester Cemetery and hurry." He told the cabbie. On the way there, John asked, "So what was on that paper and why are we going to the cemetery?"

"Moriarty left me a message." Sherlock said. "There was a charcoal rubbing of a headstone from the cemetery. Moriarty took the jewels and is waiting for me up there."

"How did he get them?" John asked, shocked.

"My bet is that he threatened some guard into playing an earlier tape over the actual one, so that Jim could go in and do whatever he liked as long as the picture looked the same, minus the jewels." Sherlock explained. John nodded.

"Ah." They arrived at the cemetery. Sherlock paid the cabbie and then scrambled out of the cab leaving John to follow.

"Moriarty! I'm here! Return the jewels!" Sherlock called to the cemetery.

Chuckling could be heard. Neither John nor Sherlock could tell in what direction. Sherlock ran up and down the grass, restless.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" He yelled. "Show yourself!"

John stood by nervously, awaiting the inevitable shock.

A figure stepped out from behind a tomb. Jim smiled brightly, wearing a crown and robe and carrying a jewel-encrusted cane.

"Sherlock! How glad you could make it!" He walked, unafraid, up to the detective. "I've got something to show you."

"I just want the Crown Jewels, Jim." Sherlock growled. Jim laughed.

"That's what I want to show you. Come on now, you can bring your dog if you want. It'll be just be the three of us, I swear. The snipers have the day off." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him in the direction of the tomb. Sherlock hesitantly went, but gestured for John to come as well. The army doctor followed warily, hand on his gun.

Jim pointed with the cane to behind the tomb, where the jewels were lying on a tarp. They were arranged to spell out two words. John stopped dead when he read the message.

"Sherlock, are you seeing this?"

"Obviously, I have eyes." Sherlock looked at the message, then at Jim, who was still wearing his brilliant smile. The criminal let go of Sherlock and stood with his hands behind his back, bouncing on his heels.

On the ground were the words "Marry Me?" in sparkling gems.

"So? Whatcha say, Sherly?" Jim prodded.

"No, of course!" John burst! "You- you're insane! Sherlock, just let's get the jewels and go."

Sherlock stared at Jim, pondering. "He was talking to me, John."

John paused. "Sherlock? You can't seriously be considering..."

The two geniuses were locked eye to eye. Sherlock thought, not making a sound, and Jim grinned that mad smile that made John want to throttle him. He settled for anxiously tapping his hand on his leg, waiting for Sherlock to come to his senses and decline.

Eventually, Sherlock inclined his head slightly. Jim took that as a cue and got down on one knee, taking Sherlock's hand.

"Sherlock Holmes, will you do me the honor and become my husband?" He asked.

Sherlock nodded. "When you put it so eloquently, how could I refuse?"

Jim got up and embraced Sherlock, who awkwardly hugged back after a moment's pause.

John screamed, tugging his hair! "What the bloody hell! Sherlock, you didn't! You didn't! WHY, damnit, WHY would you say that?!"

Sherlock and Jim pulled apart. "I'll see you later, love." Jim winked. "I'll be sure and keep in touch. Jewels are yours. But this one is specially made." As he backed up, he tossed Sherlock a ring. Sherlock threw his hands up to catch it and when Jim saw it was safely in his grip, he blew a kiss and escaped through the graves, shedding crown and robe.

Sherlock slipped the ring on. It was silver, with some engravings that John thought looked Latin. A large diamond rested on top. "John, grab the jewels. Lestrade will want them." He strode off towards the road, intent on catching a cab.

John stood helplessly frozen, staring disbelievingly at his friend's retreating back.

"...huh?" He managed.