Five years Earlier.
It was only a small affair. Nothing too upscale. That wasn't how Sherlock or John wanted things to be. They wanted to have a relaxing time. Just a few friends; well John wanted that, if it had been up to Sherlock the two would have gone back to 221b and gone straight into their next case. John had insisted though, and despite the fact that Sherlock had originally protested to the idea of some sort of reception, he was enjoying himself.
He had also only ever seen John laugh like that a few times in the years he had known John.
He watched his new husband from across the table. Lestrade, and Molly were on either side of Sherlock; Mycroft, and Mrs. Hudson were sitting beside John. They had of course invited Harriet and Clara, but Harry was running late, despite the fact that she had been present at the service; and Clara was going back home to be with the children. Sherlock knew that Harry had been keeping her drinking from her partner, and from John, but he now knew when to say things regarding Harry's addiction, and when not to. He also sympathized with her. He had been tempted to fall off his own wagon a few times in the last few years, but he had the thought of John's disappointment to keep him in check. Harry was a weaker soul, and she also didn't realize that she had a good thing while it was still with her.
Sherlock took a sip of the expensive champagne, only the best for his wedding reception. He would only have it that way. He thought about the last few years, how lucky he had been regarding John Watson.
He had disappeared for three years. Three whole years, of trying desperately to stay in line and keep his head focused. That had been the most difficult part about his adventure after his fall. The tracking down Moriarty's players had been the easy part. The leaving John out of it, had been the difficult part. He had struggled with it for three years. Then finally, on May 12th 2014, Sherlock Holmes returned to 221b Baker Street.
Things hadn't changed much, John was of course seeing a woman. Mary Morstan, a beautiful young woman, and John had packed everything of Sherlock's away and put it in Sherlock's old bedroom.
The reunion had been a bit... tumultuous. That of course was to be expected. Sherlock had rang the bell of his old flat, and Mrs. Hudson had opened the door. He had prepared himself for her to have a heart attack, but she (being the incredibly strong woman Sherlock had always known her to be), had pulled him into a hug telling him that she had just about given up hope on him. John, had come home to hear a familiar voice coming from Mrs. Hudson's flat and had knocked on the door. Mrs. Hudson had let him in and shown him to the Kitchen, where Sherlock had been sitting at the table. Looking tired, dishevelled, and blonde. He had gotten up to greet John and John had hit him square in the jaw. He had never doubted that during a fit of emotion, John Watson would miss his aim, but he had been hoping. He had nodded, allowing John a bit of space, but John had quickly grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. Telling him over and over again never to do that to him again.
Sherlock, had of course, promised.
He was lucky. Lucky that John hadn't kicked him out of his life for disappearing for three years. Lucky that John, when faced with the confession that Sherlock was in love with him, had broken it off with Mary. Lucky that John had kept his things. Lucky that John hadn't moved out of 221b. He was lucky.
He smiled as John looked at him, nodding a little. The ring on his finger was something he was going to have to get used to, but he could. He would, for John. This was the happiest day of his life. He excused himself from the table, and walked out to the lobby of the Hotel.
He looked out of the window, hearing footsteps behind him.
"Mother would have hated today. She would have complained about everything." Sherlock said as his brother joined him by his side.
"Mother, never knew when to shut up." Mycroft replied, the two brothers silent for a moment, then Mycroft continued. "She would have been happy for you."
Sherlock chuckled a little at that, shaking his head. "She would have been disappointed that I didn't prove her right."
Mycroft looked at his brother. "She would have never said it, but she would have been glad you proved her wrong."
Sherlock didn't chuckle.
"I was right you know."
Sherlock frowned a little.
"I told you that the person who would end up loving you, would be the strongest person you would ever know." Mycroft said softly.
Sherlock continued to look out the window at the rainy London below. A smile crossing his face.
"He is just that, Sherlock. You have picked the bravest, kindest, strongest person I have ever known. I wish you both the greatest of luck, and happiness." Mycroft looked out onto the city.
The two brothers stood there for several minutes in silence, before Sherlock spoke. "You're right." He said, his thank you to his brother.
Mycroft nodded. "You should head back to the party."
Sherlock did, a soft but small smile on his face. He was happy.