You watched Lestrade drink what was possibly his third drink of the day.
"How are you still not drunk?" you asked in wonderment.
Lestrade grinned as he drowned the liquid in response.
You heard the scraping of a chair and turned to see Sherlock drop on the seat beside you.
"So that's Major Sholto," he huffed out, tilting his head in the direction of John chatting to a heavily scarred man clad in a military uniform.
"John looks smitten," you sniggered as Sherlock folded his arms in a child-like manner
Lestrade chuckled, "Looks like Sherlock wasn't his first."
You both laugh as Sherlock glared darkly at Lestrade.
"So, no sign of Mycroft?" you asked after the laughter ceased down.
"Mycroft? And weddings? Not really the best of combinations, is it?" Sherlock said with a distant look on his face. "Actually now that you mention it-"
Sherlock got up and left to presumably make a phone call. Soon the tables around you started filling up and dinner was served. You conversed with the pleasant company around you on the table as you made it through three courses of dinner. You often glanced towards Sherlock at the head table and found him playing around with his food, no doubt worried about what was to follow. You could only hope he would not screw it up.
Soon the tapping of a spoon against a champagne glass rang throughout the massive room followed with a "Pray silence for the best man."
The guests broke into applause and cheer as Sherlock warily got on his feet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends... and... erm... others," he stuttered.
He stopped and blinked for a while, followed with more stuttering between awkward pauses.
You look across the table, sharing a worried glance with Molly. She was the first one to point out that Sherlock would most definitely have to make a speech at the wedding and her anxiousness regarding the situation was blatantly obvious.
A whispered "Telegrams" echoed through the now silent room, presumably from John. Sherlock patted his pockets before realising the telegrams were in a pile in front of him. He cleared his throat and noticeably swallowed.
"First things first. Telegrams." He reached for the pile of telegrams in front of him.
"Well, they're not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don't know why. Wedding tradition," he picked up the first card and sarcastically drawled out," because we don't have enough of that already, apparently."
"To Mr and Mrs Watson. So sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford."
He read through a few more of the telegrams, becoming more and more uncomfortable at the wording of them. The tables around you giggled softly at Sherlock reading out words of endearment, his face contorting as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.
He did not bother reading the rest of the cards, instead opting to work through them rapidly, "-bit of a theme, you get the general gist. People are basically fond."
You shook your head in amusement at the detective's not-so-surprising antics, glad that some of the guests too found it amusing.
"John Watson." He gestured towards John. "My friend, John Watson." He paused again looking at John as John smiles up at him. "John."
YOU ARE READING
The Sign of Three: A Reader's Journey
Fanfiction"They're in love, they look happy," you said, sighing softly as you watched Mary offer John a bite of her canapés. "Cocaine is cheaper and would also induce the same effect." The man was brutally cynical and there was nothing you could say to change...
