A/n: Very long chapter, it goes along with the episode Sign of Three. I don't own the storyline for any chapter that goes along with a Sherlock episode. And any chapter that does go along will be significantly longer. Enjoy!
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"Lestrade wants to kill you, you know that right?" (Y/n) asked as Sherlock spun her slowly.
"I gave no necessary details, he just assumed the worst," Sherlock shrugged.
"Well some details would have been nice," (Y/n) shrugged, "You'll do great Sherlock, you got an extra two months to get more ideas. The speech will be lovely."
"Shut up Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said as soon as Mrs. Hudson entered the room.
"I haven't said anything," Mrs. Hudson set down a try of tea.
"You were formulating a question," Sherlock stepped away from (Y/n), pausing the music.
"I thought you were the one playing."
"I was composing," Sherlock placed a few notes down on the paper holding the music.
"And you were dancing," Mrs. Hudson grinned.
"What brings you here Mrs. Hudson?" (Y/n) asked.
"I'm bringing you your morning tea."
"You bring the morning tea?"
"Well of course," Mrs. Hudson chuckled, "How did you think it got here?"
"I don't know, I just thought it sort of happened."
"You're mother has a lot to explain for," Mrs. Hudson handed Sherlock and (Y/n) cups of tea.
"Mmm, I have a list. Mycroft has a file."
(Y/n) chuckled, taking a sip of her tea.
"So, it's the big day then," Mrs. Hudson said excitedly.
"What day?"
"The wedding Sherlock," (Y/n) rolled her eyes.
"Two people already living together are going to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday, then return home."
"It changes people, marriage," Mrs. Hudson argued.
"No it doesn't," Sherlock mumbled.
"When you and (Y/n) are married you'll think differently."
(Y/n) choked on her tea, coughing and setting down her cup. Sherlock was more stoic about what Mrs. Hudson said, but his eyes widened a fraction.
"There are usually biscuits," Sherlock finally said.
"I've run out. But marriage does change people."
"As does lethal injection. Your husband was prosecuted for double murder."
"My best friend Margaret was my chief bridesmaid. We always said we would be best friends forever but I hardly saw her after that. She left the wedding early too."
"Don't you have something to do?" Sherlock stood up.
"Oh no, I've got plenty of time-"
"Biscuits!"
Mrs. Hudson jumped up, "I really must have a word with your mother."
"Well, I best be off," (Y/n) said as she checked the time, "I'm a bridesmaid so there's more work to be done."
"Ah yes, the torture of the salons."
"Precisely," (Y/n) grabbed her purse, "Be nice to Dean and Sam when they come over will you? And remember their names."
Sherlock stayed silent, and (Y/n) knew he wouldn't do anything of the sort. (Y/n) kissed Sherlock's cheek before walking through the door.
"Off to battle Sherlock."
~*~
"Mary-"
"No."
"But Mary-"
"No!"
"Come on Mary!"
"(Y/n)," Mary sighed loudly, "You are wearing heels with your dress now suck it up."
"How unlady like," (Y/n) said mockingly, reaching down to adjust her shoe, "This is torture, complete torture."
"Give me a reason as to why you shouldn't wear heels."
"My leg."
"The doctor cleared you completely last week," Mary rolled her eyes.
"Sam she must be possessed, she's wearing heels."
"Oh shut it you two," (Y/n) turned to her brothers.
"Do you know how this flower thing works?" Dean asked.
Sam grabbed the flower, helping Dean put it on the suit, "And for God's sake Dean smile, it's a wedding not a funeral."
"Sammy, the next wedding we might go to could be between our little sister and a man I want to shoot," Dean hissed not so quietly.
"Way to bring happiness to this day boys," Mary said sarcastically.
~*~
"Alright okay, can the newlyweds smile for a picture." John and Mary stood next to each other, smiling for the photographer. "Alright, a few more then."
The photographer took some more pictures of the different groups, the last one being (Y/n) and Sherlock.
"The famous Sherlock Holmes," another bridesmaid, Janine, approached the two, "Lovely to meet you two. If I may, no sex until you leave the reception hall."
(Y/n)'s face turned scarlet, her eyes widening at the statement.
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock said in confusion.
"Well it's a tradition, the best man and a bridesmaid, you two are already together so I thought I'd advise you to wait until you get home...You two, will be very useful."
Janine, and (Y/n) cleared her throat.
"I um, best make sure Sam and Dean aren't thinking everyone's a demon."
~*~
Later, John and Mary, with Sherlock and (Y/n) at John's side, were standing outside the venue for the reception, greeting the guests.
Mary shook a man's hand, "Hello. Lovely to meet you. David!"
"Mary. Congratulations. You look, um, very nice." David quickly moved away from her. Mary looked puzzled at his nervousness. David shook John's hand. "John, congratulations. You're a lucky man."
"Thank you."
"Um, er, David, this is Sherlock and (Y/n)," Mary introduced.
"Um, yeah. We've, um, we've met."
(Y/n) looked at Sherlock curiously, what had he done exactly when she was away shopping with dresses with Mary? She already knew about the Lestrade incident.
David made a couple of nervous noises, waved briefly to Mary and went inside. John looked at Sherlock with a curious expression but Sherlock raised his chin and turned stoic.
"You scared the daylight out of him didn't you?" (Y/n) asked as John and Mary greeted a few more people.
"Possibly/"
The young pageboy ran over to Sherlock and hugged him excitedly. Sherlock looked awkwardly down at him.
"Yes, um, well done in the service, Archie."
A woman in a black and white dress smiled at them, Archie's mom.
"He's really come out of his shell. I don't know how you did it." She told Sherlock. Archie continued hugging Sherlock, "He said you had some pictures for him, as a treat."
"Er, yes..." Sherlock patted Archie's head. "If he's good."
Archie turned to his mom, "Beheadings."
"Lovely little village," Sherlock said quickly, Sherlock gently pushed Archie towards the entrance.
"You are not showing that child pictures of beheading," (Y/n) hissed, "This is why I need to be there when you talk to people. We have a terrified ex and a child who wanted to see pictures of headless bodies."
The four entered the venue, (Y/n) searching for Sam and Dean, easily finding them by a table of food.
"He's nice," Janine said, looking over a waitor.
Sherlock sniffed deeply, "Traces of two leading brands of deodorant, both advertised for their strength, suggestive of a chronic body odour problem manifesting under stress."
"Okay, done there. What about his friend?"
(Y/n) took the lead on that deduction, "Long-term relationship, compulsive cheat."
"Seriously?" Janine asked tiredly.
"Waterproof cover on his smartphone. Yet he's too pale for outside work. He takes the phone into the shower with him. Texts and calls he doesn't want seen."
"Thank you for the assistance in finding someone," Janine muttered absently.
(Y/n) and Sherlock walked towards Mary and John hugged a man in an army uniform, a former comrade.
"So that's him. Major Sholto," Sherlock stated, "If they're such good friends, why does he barely even mention him?"
"He mentions him all the time to me. He never shuts up about him," Mary said. Mary took a sip from her glass then grimaced, "I chose this wine. It's bloody awful."
"Yes, but it's definitely him that he talks about?" Sherlock asked.
"Mm-hmm," Mary confirmed.
(Y/n) looked at Mary curiously, her taste had been everywhere. When they went out for lunch after dress shopping she ordered the fish, Mary hated fish.
"I've never even heard him say his name," Sherlock continued.
"Well, he's almost a recluse – you know, since..." Mary trailed off, " I didn't think he'd show up at all. John says he's the most unsociable man he's ever met."
"He is? He's the most unsociable?" Sherlock asked, his tone jealous.
"Oh Sherlock," (Y/n) hit his arm, "It is possible."
"Stop smiling," Sherlock ignored (Y/n)'s statement.
"It's my wedding day!" Mary defended.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and left the conversation. (Y/n) watched him for a moment before turning to Mary.
"Mrs. Hudson's hat is interesting isn't it?"
"Very large," Mary agreed.
~*~
The meal was absolutely delicious, three courses full of food no where near the level of the fast food the Winchesters were used to.
"Pray silence for the best man," the master of ceremonies said, tapping his glass.
The guests applauded as Sherlock rose to his feet. (Y/n) gave him a reassuring smile as he seemed nervous.
"Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, and, erm, others." Sherlock began to stumble over his words. Everyone at the top table went through their own nervous habits. (Y/n) knew of the controversy of asking Sherlock to be the best man, she had heard from Molly the issue of giving a speech in front of people.
"Telegrams," John said quietly.
"Right, um," Sherlock pulled the telegrams from his pocket, "First things first. Telegrams. Well, they're not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don't know why. Wedding tradition because we don't have enough of that already, apparently." (Y/n) ran a hand over her face in slight frustration, "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. To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big...big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted."
A few people chuckled.
"Mary, lots of love, poppet, oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from CAM." Mary's smile faded, "Wish your family could have seen this." Sherlock read the next card, "Special day." He moved to the next one, "Very special day...love...love...love...love...lo-"
"Sherlock," (Y/n) whispered, putting him back on track.
"Bit of a theme, you get the gist. John Watson, my friend. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. At first I didn't realise he was asking. When I understood, I expressed to him that I was flattered and surprised. I explained that I'd never expected this and I was daunted in the face of it. I promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he'd placed in me
"It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud," John laughed, and some of the guests joined in. Sherlock reached into his jacket pocket, and took out a handful of cards. "Done that...Done that...Done that bit...Done that bit...Done that bit...Hmm...I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you."
"Sherlock," (Y/n) hissed in shock.
"A wedding is, in my opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honour the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time, one feels certain, our entire species. But anyway... let's talk about John."
"Please," John said quietly.
"If I burden myself with a little mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that he has many qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me. Any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides. It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids. There is a certain analogy there, I feel. Except, of course, (Y/n) is nowhere near ordinary."
(Y/n) shifted in her seat, clearing her throat. Greg looked over at her in confusion. Mycroft still had to clear the hole 'FBI agent' thing up.
"And contrast is, God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation...or it would be if God were not a fantasy designed to provide an opportunity for the family idiot." The Winchesters shared a knowing look, (Y/n) looked up at Sherlock, would he have to meet God to believe in him too? "The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous," Sherlock smiled at (Y/n), "Unaware of the beautiful, and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend.
"Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the fortune of knowing. John, I am a ridiculous man," John nodded in agreement, "Redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I'm apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can.
"Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss, sorry again about that last one, today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. The two people who love you most in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that."
Several of the guests, including Mrs. Hudson and Molly, wiped their eyes. (Y/n) smiled, sniffling slightly. She looked to Dean and Sam, they were clearing their throats. Dean mouthed 'Chick flick'.
"Ah, yes. Now on to some funny stories about John..." Sherlock stopped as he saw some of the guests crying. What's wrong? Why are you all doing that?"
"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson said tearfully.
"Did I do it wrong?" Sherlock asked John.
"No, you didn't. Come here." John pulled Sherlock in for a hug, everyone began to clap.
"I haven't finished yet." Sherlock held up his next card, "So, on to some funny stories about John. If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would," the guests laughed, "For funny stories, one has to look no further than John's blog. Of course, he does tend to romanticise things a bit, but then, you know, he's a romantic. We've tackled some strange cases, the hollow client, the poison giant, we've had some frustrating cases, 'touching' cases, and of course I have to mention the elephant in the room. But we want something very particular for this special day, don't we? The bloody guardsman.
"Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this, a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish. Would anyone like to make a guess? Scotland Yard. Have you got a theory?" Greg stared at him blankly. "Yeah, you. You're a detective, broadly speaking. Got a theory?"
"Er, um, if the if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um..." Greg paused, "Grating in the air vent maybe a ballista or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there. So, yeah, we're loo- we're looking for a dwarf."
"Brilliant."
"Really?"
"No."
"He stabbed himself," someone whispered.
"Hello? Who was that? Tom, got a theory?"
"Um, attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone, broke after piercing his abdomen like a meat dagger."
"A meat dagger?" (Y/n) whispered in disbelief, where did Molly find these men honestly? She knew of the woman's crush on Sherlock, anyone could see it, but the mind was something you couldn't replicate. Molly seemed to be learning that now.
"No. There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson, who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know, and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff. Except wedding planning and serviettes, he's rubbish at those."
Some of the guests laughed, (Y/n) rolled her eyes.
"The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I've ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I'm not just here to praise John , I'm also here to embarrass him, so let's move on to some-"
"No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?"
"I'm afraid I don't know. I didn't solve that one. That's," Sherlock paused, "It can happen sometimes. It's very disappointing." Sherlock paused, retreating into his mind. (Y/n) watched in amusement, "Married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights in, watching the telly, or going to barbecues with boring people he couldn't stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field. He was-"
"Sherlock," (Y/n) sang, "You're losing us."
"On second thoughts I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the Room. However, it does help to prove the point, John is invaluable. A word to the wise, should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. He's saved mine so many times, and in so many ways. This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures of murder, mystery and mayhem. But from now on, there's a new story, a bigger adventure. Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding. Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is..."
Sherlock froze, staring blankly at the guests before dropping his glass. (Y/n) stood up in worry, putting a hand on his shoulder. He was retreating.
"Here today," Sherlock said as his glass hit the ground.
"Another glass sir?"
"Yes, thank you," Sherlock took the other glass, "Ah, yes. Raising glasses and standing up. Very good. Thank you. And down again."
The guests murmured in confusion as they sat down back in their seats.
"Sherlock now is not the time to solve a case," (Y/n) recognized the look in his eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech – get off early, leave 'em laughing. Wise advice I'll certainly try to bear in mind. But for now..." Sherlock jumped over the table, "Part two. Part two is more action-based. I'm gonna walk around, shake things up a bit. Who'd go to a wedding? That's the question. Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding? Well, everyone. Weddings are great! Love a wedding."
"What's he doing?" Mary asked.
"He's solving the case," (Y/n) groaned.
"And John's great, too! I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his...jumpers. He's got a great singing voice...or somebody does. Too many, too many, too many, too many! Sorry. Too many jokes about John! Now, er...Where was I? Ah, yes speech! Let's talk about...murder."
"God, and I thought our gatherings were weird," Dean muttered, Sam nodding in agreement.
"Sorry, did I say 'murder'? I meant to say 'marriage', but, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and it's over when one of them's dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though. Janine! This one is exceptionally hot. His girlfriend's wearing brand-new uncomfortable underwear and hasn't bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket, or point out the grease smudge on the back of his neck. Currently, he's going home alone."
Sherlock began to type into his phone behind his back, "Also, he's a comics and sci-fi geek. They're always tremendously grateful, really put the hours in. Geoff, the gents. The loos, now, please."
"It's Greg."
"The loos, please."
Lestrade's phone buzzed, "Why?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's your turn."
"Yeah, actually, now you mention it," Lestrade left the room.
"Sherlock, any chance of an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake."
Sherlock began to dance between the tables, "Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can't stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos."
"Oh god," (Y/n) sighed.
"What's that mean?" Mary asked.
"Battle stations. Someone's gonna die." John said quietly.
"What!"
Sherlock roared loudly with frustration slapped himself hard on the right cheek.
"No!" He slapped his left cheek, "No! Not you! Not you! You." Sherlock pointed at John.
"It's always you. John Watson, you keep me right."
"What do I do?"
"Well, you've already done it. Don't solve the murder. Save the life." Sherlock turned to the crowd, a large grin on his face. If he didn't have an anti-possession tattoo (Y/n) would be worried he was possessed, "Sorry. Let's play a game. Let's play murder."
"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson said disapprovingly.
"Imagine someone's going to get murdered at a wedding. Who would you pick?"
"You're nearing the top Sherlock," (Y/n) told him.
"More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding? As a mental exercise, I've often planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now John I'd poison. I've given him chemicals and compounds, that way, he's never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn't have a clue. Lestrade's so easy to kill, it's a miracle no-one's succumbed to the temptation. I've got keys to my brother's house, I could easily break in and asphyxiate him...if the whim arose. The Winchesters are so tightly knit it's be easy to lure them into a trap if you can get one, shoot all of them. But they don't stay dead do they?"
The Winchesters shared a knowing look. (Y/n) was holding back a laugh at the confused looks of the guests who didn't truly know the Winchesters.
"So, once again, who could you only kill here? Clearly it's a rare opportunity, so it's someone who doesn't get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. And since killing someone in public is difficult killing them in private isn't an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security. Possibly someone under threat."
"Sholto," (Y/n) realized.
Sherlock walked over to a nearby table and picked up one of the name cards on it while pulling a pen on a chain from his waistcoat.
"A recluse, small household staff." Sherlock began to write on the card. High turnover for additional security." He dropped the card in front of Sholto, "Probably all signed confidentiality agreements. There is another question that remains, however a big one, a huge one, how would you do it? How would you kill someone in public? There has to be a way. This has been planned.
"Mr Holmes! Mr Holmes!" Archie jumped up from his chair.
"Oh, hello again, Archie. What's your theory? Get this right and there's a headless nun in it for you."
"The invisible man could do it."
"The who, the what, the why, the when, the where?"
"The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the Guardsman."
"Planned and rehearsed. Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude." Sherlock held up his glass, "The bride and groom!"
"The bride and groom." The guests said hesitantly, standing up.
"Major Sholto's going to be be murdered. I don't know how or by whom, but it's going to happen." Sherlock said quickly to John, "'Scuse me, coming through! Consulting!"
John followed after Sherlock. Mary and (Y/n) shared the same look, standing up
"You two," (Y/n) pointed at Dean and Sam, "Keep watch here."
"How can you not remember which room? You remember everything."
"I have to delete something!"
"Two-oh-seven," Mary said as she ran up the stairs.
Sherlock and John ran after her. Sherlock quickly passed Mary, grabbing (Y/n)'s hand to keep her from stumbling in her heels. They reached 207 and tried the door, locked.
"Major Sholto!" Sherlock pounded his hand on the door.
"If someone's about to make an attempt on my life, I'm ready," Major Sholto said from the other side of the door.
"Major, let us in." John ordered.
"Kick the door down," Mary advised.
"I really wouldn't. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes."
"You're not safe in there. Whoever's after you, we know that a locked room doesn't stop him."
"The invisible man with the invisible knife?"
"I don't know how he does it, so I can't stop him, and that means he'll do it again."
"Solve it, then."
"I'm sorry?"
"You're the famous Mr. Holmes. Solve the case. Tell me how he did it and I'll open the door."
"Please, this is no time for games. You're in danger!" John yelled.
"So are you, as long as you're here. Despite my reputation I don't like collateral damage."
"Solve it." Mary said, "Solve it and he'll open the door, like he said."
"If I couldn't solve it before how can I solve it now?
"Because it matter now," Mary explained.
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked, "Get your wife under control."
"She's right."
"Oh, you've changed!" Sherlock said sarcastically.
"Shut up. You are not a puzzle-solver, you never have been. You're a drama queen." Sherlock's mouth opened in shock, "Now, there is a man about to die. Solve it!"
"Major Sholto, no one's coming to kill you. I'm afraid you've already been killed several hours ago."
"What did you say?"
"Don't take off your belt." Sherlock ordered. "Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, it was through his belt. Tight belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn't even feel it.
"The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight," (Y/n) realized. "And when you took it off it would be a delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi."
"So, I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate." Sholto said.
"He solved the case, Major. You're supposed to open the door now. A deal is a deal." Mary said.
"When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue."
"Whatever you're doing in there, James, stop it, right now." John yelled.
"Mr Holmes, you and I are similar."
"Yes, I think we are."
"There's a proper time to die? And one should embrace it when it comes."
"Of course one should, but not at John's wedding. We wouldn't do that. We would never do that to John Watson."
"I believe I am in need of medical attention." Sholto opened the door.
"I believe I am your doctor."
~*~
"You were lovely today," (Y/n) mumbled, as Sherlock and her swayed to the waltz in a separate room.
"I've always loved dancing," Sherlock admitted.
"Well, glad to see you've pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot at my wedding." John entered the room.
"One murder."
"One nearly murderer." (Y/n) corrected.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade entered, "Got him for you."
"Ah, the photographer. Excellent! Thank you."
"Er, may I have a look at your camera?" Sherlock asked.
What's this about? I was halfway home!" The man asked, giving Sherlock the camera.
"You should have driven faster. Ah yes,there, you see? Perfect."
"What is? You gonna tell us?"
"Try looking yourself," Sherlock gave Greg the camera.
"Is the murderer in these photographs?" John asked.
"It's not what's in the photographs, it's what's not in them, not in any of them."
"Sherlock? The showing-off thing: we've discussed it before."
"There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph but can go anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around with him, you never even see his face. You only ever see..." Sherlock put a pair of handcuffs on the photographers hands, "The camera."
"What are you doing? What is this?"
"Jonathan Small, known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion. Jonny sought revenge , worked his way through Sholto's staff, found what he needed. An invitation, the one time Sholto would have to be out in public. So, he made his plan, and rehearsed the murder. Making sure of every last detail.
"Brilliant, ruthless, though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good. Everything you need's on that." Sherlock tossed his phone to Greg, "You probably ought to arrest him or something."
"You're lucky, if he always carries handcuffs," Janine whispered to Sherlock.
"Come on, quick!" Mary ran over and grabbed John's hand.
"Sholto he's the killer, not me. I should have killed him quicker. I shouldn't have tried to be clever."
"You should have driven faster," (Y/n) smirked, Sherlock held out his arm to her and she looped hers through his.
~*~
(Y/n) stood with Sam and Dean as Sherlock played John and Mary's waltz. Everything had seemed to calm down and was going well again. (Y/n) grinned at Sherlock as he finished the piece. Sherlock picked up his buttonhole flower and tossed it to her. She chuckled, Dean rolled his eyes, sam smiled.
"Ladies and gentlemen, just one last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier. A crisis arose and was dealt with. More importantly. today we saw two people make vows. I've never made a vow in my life, and after tonight I can only think of one occasion in which I will. So, here in front of you all, my first vow. Mary and John, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there, always, for all three of you." Sherlock froze, (Y/n) fist pumped, she called it, "I'm sorry, I mean two of you. All two of you. Both of you. I've just miscounted. Anyway, it's time for dancing. Play the music again, thank you. Okay, everybody, just dance. Don't be shy!"
"I called it," (Y/n) told Mary.
"Called what?" Mary asked as Sherlock approached them.
"Increased appetite, change of taste perception, and you were sick this morning. You assumed it was just wedding nerves. You got angry with me when I mentioned it to you. All the signs are there."
"The signs?"
"The signs of three."
"Mary, you should do a pregnancy test," (Y/n) advised.
"The statistics for the first trimester are-"
"Shut up." John said, looking purely shocked, "Just ... shut up."
"How did they notice before me? I'm a bloody doctor." John asked Mary.
"It's your day off."
"It's your day off!" John smiled happily.
"Stop panicking."
"I'm not panicking."
"I'm pregnant I'm panicking."
"You're already amazing parents," (Y/n) assured, "You deal with Sherlock, no there's a real baby on the way. Now go, dance."
"Dance?" Sherlock asked (Y/n).
"You didn't even have to ask."