How would Sherlock react to the marriage of John Watson? He won't welcome it for the time being. Sherlock came back to London almost after three years only to find out that John was to marry Mary Morstan in two days. Mycroft and Molly had known and assisted Sherlock's fake suicide. Sherlock appeared on the doorstep of 221A two days ago. BETA-READ - My thanks goes to AreYouReady... :)

The day before John Watson's wedding.

With a tea tray in her hand, Mrs. Hudson ignored her hips and followed Sherlock upstairs. She put the tray on the table between the two chairs near the fireplace, and turned on the kettle to boil water. Sherlock furrowed his brows at her.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it too late for tea? It's almost 9:30."

"Well, you're chilled to the bone, and I'd like to talk with you."

The old lady chattered about the weather, Mrs. Turner's new boyfriend, the outrageous pricing of grocery...and gave a furtive look at the man from time to time. While waiting for the kettle to boil, she asked with a disapproving look at the pale face,

"Did you have dinner? Would you like some biscuits? I can get some from downstairs."

"Yes, at Mycroft's. I'll pass on the biscuits. Get to the point, Mrs. Hudson. You've got something to say."

The tea was ready and she handed one steamy cup to her tenant. Rather sternly, she said.

"John's getting married tomorrow."

"You don't need to remind me."

"You aren't going to..."


"It's been almost three years… He thought you were dead. "

"Mrs. Hudson. I came back two days ago... He can wait for a few more days. He's perfectly safe with… that girl."

The man's voice was tinged with annoyance.

"Don't you have to lay out your dress for tomorrow? By the way, thank you for the tea."

She hesitated for a moment; she just remembered that she had to find the hat that matched her dress. Ignoring his peevish grin, she drank a few sips of her tea before dropping the bomb.

"Sherlock, are you afraid of John's reaction when he sees you? Or are you scared of his bride?"

Mrs. Hudson's words obviously made the detective uncomfortable. He didn't answer, but his shoulders suddenly tensed. He pressed his hands to his temples and closed his eyes.

"Before he moved out, John told me why you jumped. You shouldn't have done that, Sherlock. Over the past three years, my heart ached with the guilt, and your sacrifice. When you showed up two days ago, I was angry, but...also happy because you weren't dead. Don't be worried that John will turn his back on you. Eventually he will forgive you. He might punch you before that happens, though."

Sherlock faintly smiled, remembering the 30-minute fit of temper which ended with hugging, sobbing, and an hour of "inquisition". He had rarely heard of Mrs. Hudson cussing until two days before. He was very happy to see his landlady again, but her presence at this moment was not welcome – he wanted to be alone. The landlady took a sip, and the sleuth didn't lose his chance - he cut in with a right question.

"Mrs. Hudson. I've got to ask something, since I've never been married... A wedding is supposedly the happiest day of their lives for the groom and the bride, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes, Sherlock. Once I was a bride, the best day of my life, or I had thought…"

Mrs. Hudson's eyes became misty. After giving her seconds to reminisce, he continued.

"The couple is like the Sun and the world turns around them, right?"

"Yes. That's why you should call John now. He'll be over the moon… You will be the best wedding present that he can wish for…"

Managing the innocent tone of his voice, he continued.

"Mrs. Hudson. If I show myself to John tonight, my presence will be a significant distraction. Isn't it unfair to the bride?"

This shut up the old lady instantly - he was absolutely right. She hastily changed the subject.

"Well, Mary is a very sweet and kind girl. You'll like her once you get to know her."

Sherlock's next question made her even uncomfortable.

"So who's got the honor of the best man?"

Mrs. Hudson turned red and stuttered,

"The best man is Mike Stamford... Sherlock, you know that John must have chosen you if you hadn't 'died'. Oh, and your brother politely declined John's request."

"Ha, Mycroft as best man? He should've said yes. It would've helped his diet. Good night, Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock yawned a few times and rubbed his eyes; hopefully Mrs. Hudson could read the obvious sign of dismissal.

"You'd better go to your bedroom, Sherlock. Well, good night. I'll ask Molly to take a lot of pictures. You can look at them later."

Mrs. Hudson turned around and shuffled out of the room. She had been trying to talk Sherlock into attending John's wedding over the past 48 hours. To her back, Sherlock added.

"Mrs. Hudson, just don't tell him until he comes back from the honeymoon. That'll give John a heart attack."

He heard the door of 221A shut. There were two more people who had to be hushed at the wedding - Lestrade and Molly. He sent a short message.

Don't tell him until he comes back from his honeymoon. SH

He flung himself on the sofa and closed his eyes without changing.

The Wedding Day

It was a beautiful day: a blue sky, the breeze of early spring, a flowery smell, chirping birds… Elated, John Watson walked down the stairs of the church with his charming bride, Mary. Mrs. Hudson dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief; Molly giggled in her new green dress: she looked wonderful without her lab gown and usual ponytail. Some of the guests looked at her appreciatively. Nicely dressed guests attended the wedding – John's colleagues at the practice; their friends and family; some Yarders like Dimmock and Lestrade. The guests threw rice and rose petals at the couple. Some of the guests were familiar faces. Harry Watson kept taking pictures and, at times, pecked and hugged her new sister-in-law. Mycroft shook hands with the groom and smiled at the bride. The bridal bouquet was caught by a surprised Molly, to everybody's applause. Lestrade approached the overjoyed couple, and pointed at the limousine decorated with flowers. The new Mrs. Watson and Mr. Watson disappeared into the car, and other guests followed. The wedding reception was to be held in the cafeteria of New Scotland Yard.

Mycroft Holmes didn't join the guests. Instead, he got inside his car and sat next to his brother, who had watched the wedding from a small screen –CCTV. Before the older Holmes said anything, the detective provoked his brother.

"So, why not be the best man? It would've helped your diet."

"Nice try, Sherlock, but you won't distract me."

Sherlock pouted and looked away. Inside the car, his cheekbones looked even more prominent. Mycroft sighed, wondering about what to do to make sure Sherlock understood: John had moved on. He decided to talk with Mrs. Hudson soon. His voice turned gentle and low.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course. It's just a boring ceremony. I can't understand why people bother with such trivia."

"Where do you want to go?"


"When are you going to tell him? You can't hide it forever."

"It's none of your business, Mycroft. Piss off."

The detective sounded defiant, as usual, but it didn't bother Mycroft.

"Tell him…"

"Yes, after the honeymoon."

"Sherlock, John suffered a lot. Especially the first year, it pained even me to watch him in and out of the hospital. Depression, alcohol….I had to get a court order to confiscate his gun."

At the glare of his brother, Mycroft whispered.

"I couldn't have been completely honest with you. It was much worse than I let on… It was John's luck that he and Mary Morstan had been taken hostage in a botched bank robbery a year ago."

"221B, please."

The car began to move. Mycroft stared at his brother for several minutes. His brother was agitated, although he had managed to hide it. Abruptly the detective banged the leather seat with his fist.

"I had thought nothing would have changed when I returned."

Mycroft read between the lines – his brother was asking if John had forgotten him.

"Well, almost nothing haschanged. Everybody is alive and well, thanks to you. London's streets are by far safer with Moriarty's web destroyed. I'm seriously thinking of asking the Queen to about a knighthood for you."

Sherlock snapped.

"Don't youdare!"

He looked at the familiar streets passing by – London. He was back home, yet he felt like a stranger. He punched the car door. Without thinking, he muttered in exasperation,

"Everything has changed."

Mycroft flinched –as far as he remembered, Sherlock had never let his emotions out like this, not since Mother's funeral. He might have to upgrade the surveillance just in case - possible relapse and no John to watch over his brother: it wasn't a good combination.

The detective glared at his reddened fist. The snippets about John and London from Mycroft had affected the detective to the level that could threaten his mission to tear down Moriarty's web. After a couple of mistakes that might have alerted Moriarty's men – thankfully the detective was lucky, they hadn't – Sherlock had had to lock away the memories of John and 221B into storage deep in his mind palace. With no distraction, he was able to come back a few months earlier than he had originally expected. John's words rang in his ears again: the words the doctor had said on the last night at 221B before they ran away from the police force.

Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time.

John believed in him– the only friend who never hesitated to stand in front of a bullet to save him. The doctor had never lost faith: Sherlock had been so sure of it until recently. But this Mary girl changed John, he wouldn't be the same. Clearing his throat, the younger Holmes put on a face of indifference and asked for the first time in five days.

"What's she like, John's bride? Her name's Mary? Is she just one of the women that John had dated, who always whined for more attention and presents, and held grudges about distractions like me?"

"Give a little credit to John. He has sometaste in women."

"If he had, then he'd have settled much earlier."

Sherlock scoffed. Mycroft gave him a look and spoke.

"I've been watching Mary for a year. She is a charming and smart kindergarten teacher. Once I "came across" them in a café, and I saw that she was right for John. She was well-informed of John's past and you, Sherlock, and she was very understanding. She's also one of the few people who aren't intimidated by me."

Ignoring his brother's scandalized face, he added.

"I expect I'll hear good news from the Watsons quite soon."

The detective looked almost disgusted - did his brother imply that John would be havingchildren? Would it possible for him to share John's attention with strangers? It had been wise of him to delay the reunion after their honeymoon. He needed time.

"I know the past three years had been painful for you, Sherlock. Just remember what John would feel if he found out the truth… He's a soldier. He would've rather died in battle with you than…"

"Shut up, Mycroft."

Silence fell. Sherlock knew his brother was right. Yet he felt betrayed. John's marriage was unexpected news. His brother had informed him of the wedding three days before he flew back to London. Could he blame John? No… It was the detective who had shut out the doctor to save his friends. Mockingly, the sleuth muttered,

"Do I have to put on a big show, pretending to give John my blessing? It's not going to happen."

Mycroft groaned –had Sherlock not changed at all over the years? He stared at his brother for a moment while the detective glared at the window. No, Sherlock wasn't a sociopathic man anymore. He'd changed. Otherwise, he would've contacted John already. It must've taken a significant amount of self-control not to. His brother was giving John and his bride time before he revealed himself because John would have to balance his life between his wife and his friend once he found out that Sherlock was alive.

The car stopped in front of 221B, and Mycroft spoke when Sherlock opened the car door.

"I'll have to attend the reception to represent the Holmes family. I'll drop by tonight."

The detective got out of the car and walked into his flat without any words. The door shut with a bang and the car slowly headed towards New Scotland Yard.