Work Text:
Two weeks before the wedding
Sherlock sat in his chair with his head thrown back and his legs sprawled before him. He took another long drag on his cigarette. John would not approve of this behaviour. But then again, he would never find out about this little transgression; or the one before that. Or any other one, really. Sherlock was free to do as he pleased without the prospect of having to hear John’s complaints. It should be a relief, shouldn’t it? Only the cigarettes didn’t have what he wanted.
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The big day
After the waltz, Sherlock felt properly tired. He was emotionally exhausted and craving a cigarette. Then, he had deduced Mary’s pregnancy, and that absolutely called for a cigarette; maybe two. But there was no time for that now. Now he had to be a good and understanding friend. He had to cast his emotions aside and be there for John.
“Don’t panic! None of you panic. Absolutely no reason to panic.”
“Oh, you’d know, of course!”
“Yes, I would! You’re already the best parents in the world with all the practice you’ve had.”
“What practice?”
“Well, you’re hardly gonna need me around now that you’ve got a real baby on the way.”
John looked at him and smiled. Sherlock couldn’t take it anymore. He let go. He let go of the mask he’d been wearing the whole ceremony and just looked at John with the most open and honest look he could without breaking completely in front of the man. They were both smiling. Then John looked at Mary. Of course, this was going to be their baby, their life. John was her husband now, and they were going to build a life together, a life in which Sherlock played a secondary role. Mary and the baby would be John’s priorities, as they should be. This realisation wiped the smile off of Sherlock’s face. Then John looked back at him, still buzzing with excitement and happiness. But Sherlock’s face didn’t mirror John’s. Instead of a big smile, he now showed his deepest feelings. The ones he’d sworn to keep away from everyone, especially from John. And John did not only see, he observed. He understood. John swallowed and looked away and Sherlock decided it was enough; he had to put some distance between them for a bit (perhaps for more than a bit).
“Dance.”
“Hm?”
“Both of you, now, go dance. We can’t just stand here; people will wonder what we’re talking about.”
“Right.”
“What about you?”
“We can’t all three dance, there are limits.” Oh, John, you need some space too, don’t you?
“Yes, there are.” Yes, limits. And Sherlock had crossed every one of those. It was time to rebuild them.
“Come on husband, let’s go!”
“This isn’t waltz, is it?"
“No.”
“Don’t worry Mary, I have been tutoring him.”
Sherlock had loved their week of dancing together and those were memories he held very dear. He had hoped they might have the opportunity to do it again, but now that felt like a rather unlikely possibility. Sherlock didn’t hear what John said after that, he was too lost inside himself, remembering those sweet moments between them. He found himself smiling once more. John was going to be ok; more than ok. After all, he was married to the woman he loved and was going to live the life he’d always wanted. Everything was perfect for him, really. So Sherlock smiled for him.
After John and Mary got out of his sight, he looked around. Well, what now? Sherlock had already done all he had to do. He’d given the speech, caught a murderer (though that was not part of the plan), played the waltz he had composed, and even deduced that Mary was pregnant (also not part of the schedule). All he wanted was to go to Baker Street and smoke a delicious cigarette; maybe three. But he had to try and stay there, at least a while longer. For John. Then Sherlock saw Janine in the middle of the crowd. Well, she’s not bad company. He’d begun walking towards her when she pointed to the man she was dancing with. Of course.
Not knowing what to do with himself and realising John wouldn’t care all that much if he left, Sherlock went back to Baker Street. Once he got there, exhaustion got the better of him and he fell asleep on the couch after smoking two cigarettes.