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Two years after the death of Rudy Vernet, Mycroft Holmes stood in front of a mirror, carefully regarding his reflection. The years had seen the addition of a few new creases in his forehead and a few more centimeters of rescission on the part of his hairline, but these imperfections hardly registered as he smoothed the front of his tuxedo and straightened his tie. He carefully adjusted the chain of his pocket watch, a beautiful silver one which Greg had given him on their first anniversary. There was a knock on the door, which opened to reveal Sherlock, similarly dressed.  


“Since when do you knock?” Mycroft teased lightly, earning him an exasperated eye roll. 


“There’s almost nothing in this world I want to see less than you naked,” the younger man muttered. Mycroft smiled warmly at his little brother, who gave up on pretending to be annoyed, and smiled back. “You look good,” Sherlock said, only sounding a bit like the act of complimenting his big brother was physically painful. Sherlock pinned the corsage to the lapel of his brother’s suit, then shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot in front of him for a moment, before more or less launching himself into Mycroft’s arms, hugging him tightly. Mycroft laughed and hugged his brother back. 


“Thank you for agreeing to this. It means a lot to me to have you up there with me today.” Mycroft smiled warmly at his little brother, who flushed slightly, then flung an arm around Mycroft’s shoulders jovially. 


“Let’s get you downstairs, brother mine. The ceremony won’t wait for you just because you’re one of the grooms.” 


The wedding of Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes was a small affair, with only the families of the two grooms, plus Anthea and Sally Donovan, both of whom had gotten ordained in order to perform the ceremony for their bosses. Delores Lestrade started crying the moment her son entered the room, and Siger Holmes followed soon after. Their respective spouses rolled their eyes and told them to hush, but neither parent did. In Mummy’s lap, Rosie Watson, dressed to the nines in her flower girl dress, giggled at the sight of her daddy in a tuxedo. John Watson stood next to Greg and Sherlock Holmes next to his brother, both having agreed to be best men the moment the question had been posed. 


The two best men hadn’t slept much the night before, a combination of excitement, nerves, and some particularly vigorous lovemaking. John smiled absently at his boyfriend, who returned his grin then turned his attention back to the two officiants. 


Anthea smiled warmly at her boss, as he repeated the vows she read off to him, though she knew for a fact that he had memorized them weeks before. He had spent the better part of the last week pacing his office, muttering the vows to himself so he would deliver them perfectly on the day. She had teased him, but it made her heart swell to see him so hyper focused on something that brought him happiness for once. Greg brought Mycroft the kind of happiness that Anthea had long worried her friend would never experience. He deserved that kind of happiness.


 Sally blinked back tears as Greg repeated after her, his eyes glittering with tears of pure joy. She had never seen her boss as happy as being with Mycroft made him and, as both someone who had to work with him on a daily basis and a friend, she would do just about anything to make sure Greg continued to be that happy.


“You may now kiss the groom.” Both women commanded, both grinning brightly. 


Greg and Mycroft turned towards each other, Greg wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s waist, Mycroft slinging his around Greg’s neck. In the long moment that they stood looking at each other, Mycroft saw every moment of the two and a half years they had spent with each other in Greg’s eyes. Every tear and smile, all the sleepless nights he had spent in Greg’s arms. He had been so broken, and somehow this man had been willing to stay, to hold him up when he couldn’t stand anymore, until he had been pieced back together. 


Greg stared back into Mycroft’s eyes, seeing every moment of the decades they would spend together as husbands. Every joy they would live to see, every moment that he thought he would have to face alone, that now he would get to spend with the love of his life. The two men leaned forward, and kissed, pouring out every bit of hope and joy and love and faith that they had, as the people they loved most in the world cheered around them. 


At long long last, everything was fine.