A/N: Well this is the last chapter. Sad, I know, but keep an eye out for more fics. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.

This chapter is just unrestrained fluff.

/

John was nervously flitting around the flat making sure everything looked clean and straightened up. Sherlock had walked into the flat the day before and announced that "Mummy" was coming the next day. She wanted to meet John, the man who stole her son's heart. Now here it was nearing zero hour and the doctor was so horribly nervous. He had no idea what to expect with Mummy Holmes and the detective was not forthcoming with any details about what his mother was like.

Sherlock watched John buzzing around nervously, and wisely decided not to mention that his father was coming too. He knew his doctor would be angry with him for not telling him. He stayed out of John's way and let him fuss around the flat. They would here soon.

Then they heard the knock at the street door, and heard Mrs. Hudson answer the door. There was chattering, and then footsteps coming up the stairs. John was flitting around even faster. When the knock came at their flat door, John froze like a deer in headlights, and swallowed down his fear.

Sherlock crossed the room and opened the door. John was horrified to see not just "Mummy" coming in but the detective's father as well. The man was obviously Sherlock's father, they looked so much alike. They even had the same high cheekbones. He was going to have a word with Sherlock later. He should have told him his father was coming. Hell, he should have told him his father was alive.

Mummy Holmes (call me Victoria, dear) was straight backed with pale, sharp eyes that missed nothing. She had the same penchant as the detective for flipping up her coat collar. The fluffy white hair was not what John had expected, but it took only a few moments of talking with Sherlock's parents to realize they were normal, nice people. Mummy….. err Victoria …. was certainly very sharp and alert and intelligent, just like Sherlock was, but she was also a warm, loving mother. Mr. Holmes (call me Theodore, my boy) was tall and slim like the detective. He let his wife do most of the talking, and only threw in the occasional agreement when he felt it was needed.

John thought they were wonderful. He had to nudge Sherlock a couple times when he rolled his eyes. Finally they left and John couldn't help saying, "Your parents are normal, really lovely in fact."

"I know. Tedious aren't they?"

"Sherlock, you can't say that about your parents."

"Why not?", said the pouting detective.

John knew the younger man was pouting because the doctor liked his parents.

"They are lovely people, and they love you."

The detective flopped down on the couch, turned on his side facing the back, and curled up into a ball. The doctor sighed and left him to his pouting. John made some tea, took a mug out to Sherlock even though he was sure to ignore it, and sat at the table and looked over the list of things for the wedding. They had it all figured out now. It was nice to have it all sorted.

/

John was standing in the middle of the sitting room, mouth open, and staring at a letter in his hands. Sherlock was quiet, trying to stay out of the way. He was cursing John's sister, Harriet, for telling their parents that John was to be married to Sherlock. Now John was standing in their sitting room staring at a letter from his parents telling of their intention of coming to London to meet with them both. John was livid with Harriet for saying anything to their parents. He had intended on telling them at a later date when he could break it to them gently. Now he would have to deal with them right away. Harriet wasn't answering her phone, of course.

"What the fuck was she thinking telling Mom and Dad. I didn't want them to find out this way."

Sherlock kept his bottom lip firmly between his teeth. He wasn't going to say anything to redirect John's anger his way. They were to be married in one day and he didn't want anything to mar their wedding day, although fate seemed to trying pretty hard to do just that. Harriet wouldn't be found until John and Sherlock were standing in the bandstand getting married. John knew this, but cursed heartily anyways.

He turned quickly and saw Sherlock over by the desk, hand caressing his violin, trying to keep quiet and stay out of his way. He was looking down, and not at John, and the doctor realized that his love was afraid to say anything or even look at him for fear of making the older man angry with him. John's anger fled quickly, and he walked slowly over to his detective. Sherlock looked up when he saw the doctor's shoes come into his line of sight where he was looking at the floor. John wasn't looking angry, he looked ashamed. Sherlock's eyes quickly flitted over John and knew his anger was gone. His love stepped close to him and cupped one high cheekbone, and said, "I'm sorry, love. It was just unexpected. Mom and Dad have always accepted that Harry is gay. I just didn't want to tell them that I was getting married to a man, and completely dash their hopes of having grandchildren." He smiled at Sherlock and leaned up and kissed him. Sherlock smiled at John feeling relieved that he wasn't angry anymore. John noticed the detective's long fingers gently caressing the violin, and looked up at him, smiled, and asked, "Would you mind playing a little music for me. I need to just relax and not think for awhile."

Sherlock excitedly grabbed his violin, turned to the window, raised his bow, and proceeded to serenade John. He let his mind slow and his fingers move of their own accord. The doctor smiled, sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and listened to the beautiful music.

It was hours later when Sherlock finally noticed it was dark outside, and quiet in the flat. He finished the piece he was playing, and turned to see John fast asleep in his chair. The detective laid violin and bow in its case, walked over to John. He didn't want to wake him, but knew if he left him in his chair his back would be sore the next day. Tomorrow was their last day together before the wedding, and John's parents would be showing up to visit as well. John should sleep in their bed so that he was well rested and no sore back.

The detective debated what he should do. He decided to carry John to their bed, and that way the doctor might wake a little bit, but fall asleep quickly once in bed. Sherlock slid one arm around John's shoulders and the other arm under his arms and slowly lifted. He stood and shifted John's head to his shoulder and John mumbled softly and slept. He quickly carried the doctor to their room, pulled back a corner of the sheet and blankets, and sat him on the edge of the bed. He removed the doctor's jumper and t-shirt, and gently laid him back, then removed his shoes, socks, trousers, and belt, leaving him in just his pants, and swung his legs up on the bed. He pulled the sheet and blankets up over John and watched as turned on his side, sighed, and continued to sleep. After locking the flat door, turning out the lights, and returning to their bedroom, Sherlock undressed, and in just his pants crawled into his side of the bed. He curled around John sliding his arm around his middle and slept.

/

When John awoke the next morning, it was to find Sherlock still in bed. He was laying still facing the doctor, watching him sleep. The older man knew something wasn't right.

"Everything ok, love?"

"Fine", he smiled, and John knew immediately, there was definitely something wrong. That was Sherlock's fake smile. He leaned up on one elbow, and said, "No it isn't, Sherlock, I can tell when you're faking 'fine'."

The detective huffed and rolled over trying to burrow under the covers. John was having none of it. He pulled the covers back to see the younger man curled up in a ball.

"Come on. Out with it." John wasn't angry. He was just worried about what was bothering his soon-to-be-husband.

Sherlock wasn't going to answer. The wedding was tomorrow and his fiancee was pouting. Well, he supposed it was better than on the day of.

The detective stayed on the couch and pouted for the rest of the morning. Then in the afternoon, he got a text from Lestrade about a cold case he needed help on, and Sherlock showered and dressed, and was out the door so fast that John barely had time to blink. Was that whirlwind just Sherlock blowing out the door of the flat, with a "See you later, John"?

The army doctor sighed, shook his head, and continued with his household chores. At least his love wasn't pouting anymore.

/

Sherlock stayed away from the flat as long as possible, bugging the DI until he kicked out, and told him to go home to his fiancee. The detective walked home as slowly as he could, almost stopping once or twice for tea in a shop. He eventually arrived a Baker Street, and let himself in, pausing at the bottom of the staircase, and briefly considering having a visit with Mrs. Hudson. He decided, though, that he was just prolonging the inevitable. He ascended the stairs, and only when he reached the door with his hand on the handle, did he realize that John's parents were there. He quickly looked around for an avenue of escape. Nothing. Why couldn't he think? He was panicking. Then the door opened and John was standing there, his parents had their coats on, and were clearly just leaving. John saw Sherlock standing there frozen in place, and smiled, and said, "Mom, Dad this is Sherlock Holmes, my fiancee."

They both turned in unison, and Mrs. Watson stepped toward Sherlock, hand held out, smiling, and said, "Aw, Sherlock, nice to finally meet the man who has made our son so happy."

The detective relaxed immediately, and shook hands, and greeted the Watson's.

A few minutes later, he and John were alone, and he was dreading the doctor bringing up what was bothering him. He was worried that if he mentioned it, that John would change his mind and not want to marry him after all.

John chattered away as he cleared the tea things from his parents visit, and started making dinner. He asked the younger man about his cold case, and Sherlock gladly shared all the details. Maybe the doctor would be too busy writing it up on his blog to think about their discussion that morning.

John could see that Sherlock was tense, and knew that something was still bothering him. He decided to keep the detective talking about other stuff, and eventually he would just come out with it on his own. The older man knew he always did. So they chatted as John made dinner, and Sherlock helped. They sat and ate in front of the telly. The doctor cleared away their plates, and stayed in the kitchen washing dishes. Sherlock turned off the telly, and played his violin. He knew John loved listening to him play.

The doctor listened to Sherlock playing, and smiled to himself, knowing that the younger man was relaxing. Once he was relaxed, he would tell John what it was that was bothering him so badly.

/

With the dishes done, and put away, John sat in his chair and listened to the music. After awhile, he grabbed his laptop off the desk, and wrote up the cold case for the blog. It was a quick story, and while not splashy and full of adrenaline, it was still interesting. When he was done, he stretched, yawned, set the laptop on the coffee table, and stood. He briefly considered whether he should disturb the younger man or not, but just then Sherlock finished the song he was playing. He turned, laid violin and bow in the case, and stretched and yawned himself.

"Come on, love, let's go to bed", John said, tiredly.

Tomorrow would be a big day. Sherlock and John walked down the hall holding hands until they got to the bedroom. Once there, they let go, and quickly stripped, and crawled into bed in just their pants. Sherlock was curled up with his head on John's chest with the doctor's arms around him. The detective lay there eyes open, not feeling like sleeping, but wanting to cuddle. John sensed that his detective was ready to talk. He lay quietly with the younger man in his arms willing to wait until Sherlock started talking.

It was only a few minutes before he did.

"John?"

"Mmmm."

Sherlock fidgeted for a moment, then it came out in a rush, "didyouwantchildren."

The younger man held his breath. He felt John shift a little and knew he was trying to look down at him. He tried to burrow his face into the other man's chest, but the doctor moved so that he could get his hand on the detective's chin and tilted his face up to him. He looked up at John with wide, sad blue eyes. The doctor leaned down and kissed the soft lips gently.

"I thought that I wanted children at one time, but then I met you and I knew that I would be happy to have you in my life forever. I never really seriously thought about it again because we love each other, and that's everything I need to have. And tomorrow we will be married to the most amazing, brilliant man I've ever known."

"So you won't regret marrying me and not having any children?"

"Oh Sherlock, our love is all I need, all I ever wanted. I could never regret that."

Sherlock smiled a brilliant smile, and kissed John. The doctor responded, the kiss getting heated. They finally broke apart gasping for breath, and then the doctor leaned down to capture those soft lips again, and proceeded to show Sherlock just how much he loved him. The detective stopped thinking about any worries he had, and showed John how much he loved him too.

/

The alarm woke them both from a peaceful slumber, and Sherlock reached over and turned the alarm off. He was just turning over to fall asleep again when he felt John stir. The detective's eyes popped open and he smiled. Their wedding was today, and John would be his forever. He felt the doctor's arm slide around him, and then felt a light kiss on the back of his neck, "Good morning, love."

"Good morning."

They cuddled for a few moments, and just as Sherlock was about to drift off to sleep again, John sat up and said, "Let's shower, and have some breakfast, love. We have lots to do today."

He got out of bed, padded to the bedroom door, turned back to the detective still lounging in bed, and said suggestively, "Coming?", as he turned to head down the hall to the bathroom, the detective launched himself out of bed, and scurried after his doctor.

The shower took a little longer than usual, but both enjoyed it very much.

John was in the kitchen making breakfast, and Sherlock quickly moved to the bedroom, found the box with their finished wedding rings in it, and quickly put it in his wedding suit jacket. He returned to the kitchen just as John was putting their plates of breakfast on the table. Mycroft was sending a car for them at 10 and they needed to be ready.

Sherlock and John had decided they didn't need to separate until the wedding vows were exchanged. They intended to show up together. Neither felt the need to observe wedding tradition.

Once breakfast was eaten, and dishes washed and put away, they moved to the bedroom and got ready, looking each other over to make sure everything looked right. John was surprised to discover that Sherlock had had the tailor make his suit in light grey, while Sherlock's was in deep blue. Then they proceeded down the stairs, and outside to the waiting car. The few guests they had would already be at the bandstand awaiting their arrival.

/

The car pulled up to a covered walkway filled with flowers. As they stepped from the car, and it slid away from the curb, they heard music start playing. The took each others' hands, and walked down the walkway. John looked at the multi-coloured blooms, and decided that Mycroft (or whomever he got to decorate) had good taste. No need for all white flowers. They emerged from the walkway way to see a riot of coloured flowers all over the sides of the bandstand, and the people they had invited, standing there watching their progress.

Together they stepped into the bandstand and forwards to the "minister?" when John suddenly recognized him as the Chaplin from his army days. He was an old and dear friend who had helped him through the long days in hospital after he was wounded. He smiled, this was perfect. How had Mycroft ever found him?

He stepped forward and shook the chaplin's hand and then he proceeded with the wedding. Sherlock and John had written their own wedding vows. When it came time to say them, they turned toward one another, and Sherlock spoke first, "John, from the first day I met you I knew you were the only one for me. You put up with me no matter what, and still love me at the end of the day. I am truly blessed to have the love of the bravest, kindest, and wisest man I have ever known; and I spend every day of the rest of our lives together showing you how much I love you."

John swallowed the lump in his throat, determined not to even tear up, even though he could he sniffles, and see people dabbing at moist eyes.

He focused on Sherlock, smiled, and said, "Sherlock, the very first day we met, you dazzled me with your deductions, and by the end of the day, I knew I was already falling in love with you. You are brilliant, and maddening, and the most amazing man I have ever known. You are a good man, and I will love you always."

By then there wasn't a dry eye in the bandstand. They exchanged rings, and John secretly delighted with the finished product and amazed at how well the design on the wedding ring fit with the design on the commitment ring. He realized that they were meant to be worn together. He smiled up at Sherlock as the last words were said, and then they kissed. They were now officially married.

Everyone cheered and gathered round, offering congratulations. The photographer arrived, and champagne was uncorked, and the afternoon proceeded. It was giddy and fun, and there was lots of laughter. Eventually everyone was whisked by more black cars to Angelo's where the interior had been decorated with the same riot of coloured flowers, and one long table with candles and bottles of wine. The evening continued on, and presents opened, and adored. At 1 a.m. the guests started to drift off to their homes and hotel rooms, and the happy couple took the final black car filled with their gifts back to Baker Street. The driver helped bring all the packages up to the flat and quietly left.

John sat on their familiar couch with Sherlock, smiling and happy and tired. John turned to Sherlock and pulling out a small box handed it to his detective, "This is my gift for you." The younger man took it and opened the box. Inside was a pin in the shape of a bee. It was very intricate and inlaid with real gems, and must have cost a small fortune. He knew that John couldn't afford this on his own. He would have to thank his brother later for helping his doctor with it. He took the pin out, admiring it, and said, "Thank you, John. It's beautiful." He put it on his lapel, and knew he would wear it everyday.

Sherlock turned to John and said, "John I wanted to give you this gift in private." As he said this he handed the doctor a small box. The doctor took the box and opened it. Inside nestled a single key. He took it out of the box and held it up, turning it over, and looking at it. He looked at the detective a little puzzled. The younger man smiled, and said, "This is the key to the door of our own cottage. It's in the countryside where I can raise and study bees, and you can write. Mrs. Hudson has a little house in the village nearby, and she has agreed to be our housekeeper."

John hugged his detective, and finally let the tears of joy that he had been holding back all day fall, "Oh Sherlock", he choked out, "This is the most amazing wedding gift. I love you so much and I know we will be happy for the rest of our lives."

"I love you too John.", he said, hugging back, "I just hope you don't mind if I take the occasional case."

John laughed and leaned back, looking up at the detective, "Of course, I don't mind. I can't have you getting bored."

They laughed and kissed. Yes they would be happy forever. (And, maybe, if Sherlock could work it, they would have a child, too.)

/

Well that's the end of this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. A big thank you to all my followers and favouriters, your reviews made me squeal with delight.