"So I'm thinking we could just go with the... Sherlock are you even listening?" Sherlock picked his head up from off the table and stared at John with his eyes narrowed.

"Of course I've been listening."

"Alright then, what did I just say about the-"

"Irrelevant."

"Irrelev- Sherlock! This is our wedding we're talking about. Well, I'm talking about." Sherlock sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes I know. I just don't see why we have to spend so much time on this tedious planning. I mean seriously, all this work for one day? It doesn't make sense."

"Well we wouldn't have to be doing all of this if you hadn't dismissed every wedding planner we went to. I mean, that one lady was willing to do everything for free if she could just come to the wedding."

"She was also willing to jump your bones at a moment's notice."

"Sherlock-"

"I mean she might as well have worn a sign on her forehead reading 'I think John Watson is incredibly attractive and I don't care that his fiancé is sitting right beside him. I'm going to chat him up anyway and hope that he flirts back. Thank you for not flirting back by the way." John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sherlock we've got to get your jealously issues under control." The man sitting across from him huffed indignantly and crossed his arms.

"I do not have jealousy issues." John sighed again, then stood up and walked around to stand behind Sherlock. He placed his hands on his shoulders and leaned down to bury his chin in Sherlock's curls.

"How about you and I take a break? The package we got at the hotel took care of all the big stuff, and we've almost got everything else covered. I'll just make the necessary calls tomorrow and then we'll be done."

"That sounds lovely." John took a step back and allowed Sherlock to stand up. "Is that really all we have left to do?"

"Yeah. Since we ended up going with this package there's not a lot for us to plan. We already know who we each want for our best man, figured out the seating chart for dinner, got several photographers and we've finished with all the fittings for our tuxedos, and everything else is being taken care of by the people over at the Ritz." John chuckled quietly and shook his head. "I still can't believe were getting married there... But anyway, I suppose all we have to do is write our vows..." Sherlock made a face, causing John to stop talking and look up at him with worried eyes. "What?"

"I've never liked the idea of pre-written vows. They're not as bad as the standard ones that everyone does, but they still lack authenticity." John stared blankly at him for a moment, struggling to comprehend.

"So what, do you not want any vows?" Sherlock's face scrunched up as he shook his head, and John fought the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. As much as he hated talking about his feelings, he' been looking forward to standing with Sherlock before all their family and friends, their hands joining them together as they looked into each other's eyes and declared their love. Well, John was looking forward to hearing what Sherlock would say, actually. He smiled up at his fiancé, who placed a warm hand on his shoulder and smiled back.

"I think we should just, say whatever comes to mind while we're up there. That way it's completely genuine and heartfelt." As unconventional as his request was, this was the first time Sherlock had shown any sort of interest in the actual planning of their wedding so John welcomed it with open arms and a smile on his face.

"If that's what you want to do, then we'll do it." Sherlock smiled back, a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle and brightened his entire face, then leaned in and gave John a quick kiss. Even though the kiss was short, John could feel all the excitement behind it. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and could feel practically him vibrating with anticipation. He smiled and reached up, burying his hand in Sherlock's hair and pulling him down for another, longer, more passionate kiss, to which Sherlock responded quite enthusiastically. When they parted both men were breathless, and John kept his eyes closed for a moment after they separated, wondering how it was possible for his life to get any better, other than actually being married to Sherlock. He opened his eyes the same time Sherlock was opening his, and they both smiled at each other.

"Come on. You haven't had a proper meal in days. We're going to Angelo's." Sherlock sighed, but went to retrieve his coat and scarf.

Their dinner was lovely, as was the walk through a nearby park. John and Sherlock returned to Baker Street hours later, intoxicated with each other and more ready than they ever had been to be married.

John called the hotel about dinner the next day, and when that was finished all he and Sherlock could do was wait with bated breath for the day of their wedding. Days seemed to drag on endlessly and many times the idea of eloping seemed preferable in John's mind, but then all he had to do was mention the upcoming ceremony to Sherlock and see the spark of joy in his eyes and he knew it was worth it. No matter how much Sherlock had complained about the planning and tried to keep it hidden, John knew he was looking forward to the wedding more than he was.

Luckily, Lestrade was able to catch on to their increasing restlessness due to the anticipation of their upcoming wedding and continued to throw cases their way in hopes of distracting them. Sherlock, fully aware of what Lestrade was trying to do, jumped at each and every case, and the days began to fly by and then the next thing John knew it was the night before their wedding, and John found himself at a strip club with a handful of friends. Well, at least he'd arrived with a handful of friends. He wasn't exactly where they were at the moment as he leaned against the bar, nursing some drink whose name he couldn't remember.

The thumping base of the music reverberated inside John's chest, making it hard to tell if what he felt was his own accelerated heart rate or the baseline. All around him scantily clad women were dancing provocatively, but John barley paid them any attention. He was too preoccupied with wondering what Sherlock was up to. Though he had laughed and immediately turned down Sherlock's idea of a joint stag night, he found himself wishing he'd agreed, and that Sherlock was standing beside him instead of at some gay bar on the other side of town with his own circle of friends, or 'acquaintances', as Sherlock had referred to them.

A slightly inebriated Ollie came up to him with a drink in his hand and a smile on his face, tearing John away from his thoughts with a loud whoop.

"Man, this place is awesome!" John smiled and nodded his head, though he found that he couldn't really agree with him. He raised his glass to his lips and took a slow sip, eyes darting around he room but not really looking at anything. He watched Ollie stumble after a girl who was obviously not a natural blonde and sighed, wondering how he managed to lose track of all his friends and end up alone on his stag night. He supposed he wasn't so upset, anyway, as long as his friends were having fun.

Just as John was about to order another drink, Lestrade showed up beside him and nudged him with his elbow.

"You know the whole point of a stag night is to go out and do something wild as a last hurrah before succumbing to the old ball and chain, not hang out alone at the bar and only order one drink. It seems your companions are having more fun than you are, John." He chuckled quietly, his eyes signifying that his mind was somewhere far away. "I remember the night before my wedding I ... " he trailed off, his smile faltering slightly before returning in full force as he changed the subject. "I know you miss him, but it's only one night. Tomorrow's the big day and then you've got two weeks of honeymoon together before coming back and spending the rest of your life with him. Where are you two going anyway?"

"Oh, everywhere," John said before taking a sip of his drink. "We'll be flying out to New York the morning after the wedding to see Phantom of the opera, and from then on we'll be traveling all over the world basically." Lestrade made a strange sort of noise in the back of his throat, and John stopped talking, taking a sip of his drink to give himself something to do.

"Broadway, huh,"Lestrade said crossing his arms and leaning against the bar. "Never pegged you as the broadway type."

"Well I'm not, but Sherlock is and it's as much his honeymoon as mine."

"Fair point."

"After that we're going to Los Angeles, Sydney, and Paris before coming back to London to spend the last night of our honeymoon at the Four Seasons." Lestrade let out a low whistle and placed his drink on the bar.

"Sounds like quite the honeymoon." John simply nodded his head, and after a brief moment his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Erm, not that I don't want you here but, don't you think you should be with Sherlock? It doesn't seem fitting for a guy to be at his stag night without his best man there."

"I was just about to head over, actually. I was waiting for him to have hopefully downed a few drinks first. I need some new footage for my personal blackmail collection." John laughed and was about to say goodbye, when a crazy idea popped into his head. He took a long sip of his drink and forced himself to meet Lestrade's eyes as he spoke.

"Hey do you... Do you think you could maybe, when you get there..."

"Would you like me to send you some updates?"

"Is that too...?" John bit his lip and looked down. He was just about to retract his request when a wide smile broke out on Lestrade's face.

"Not at all. I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures." He have John a friendly pat on the shoulder before paying his tab and turning to leave. "See you tomorrow!"

John watched him leave, then downed his drink and pushed himself off of the wall. He left his empty glass on the bar and went in search of either Ollie, Mike, or Bill. He found Bill reclining in an overstuffed love seat in a darkened corner, drink in hand, simply surveying the room. John made a beeline for him and when he sat down beside the man he felt himself instantly relax. There was just something about Bill's presence that calmed every one of John's nerves and made him feel comforted. He supposed it was just an aftereffect of having his life saved by the man in Afghanistan.

Bill smiled up at him when he approached, his posture relaxing a bit when John settled beside him. He smelled like alcohol and expensive cologne, and thankfully nothing like the women who worked here. The smell of so many different perfumes mixed was starting to give John a headache.

"There you are!" Bill said, raising his hands in greeting. "I was about to go looking for you."

"Yeah," John said, eyeing his friend's casual position. "I'm sure you were." Bill laughed lightheartedly and took a sip of his drink. His eyes swept the room for several moments before they landed on someone, and a wide smile broke out on his face.

"Ah, there we are."

John turned his head and saw a woman with bleached blonde hair and very red lipstick sauntering towards him. Her 'outfit' consisted of a leather bra and pair of shorts. John could smell her perfume several seconds before she came to stand before him, smiling some sort of cheshire cat smile at him. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his face even.

"Well hello there, mister," she said in an overly sultry voice that obviously wasn't her normal speaking tone. "What's your name?"

"Uh, John."

"My name's Candice. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Erm, you too." He tried to offer Candice a sincere smile, and shot Bill a dirty look. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ollie and Mike approaching, both with stupid smiles on their faces. He looked back up at Candice just in time to see her take another step closer and start to lower herself into his lap. "Oh, no, thank you. I'm- I'm... I probably shouldn't. I'm getting married tomorrow." Candice remained in John's lap and reached for his left hand, holding it with both of hers.

"I don't see a ring..." John sighed and nodded his head. He and Sherlock had both sent their rings to be engraved before the wedding, and wouldn't be getting them back until the next day, when they put them on each other's fingers. Still, John shook his head and tried to pull his hand away.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Oh come on John," Bill said, "this is supposed to be your one last night of 'freedom' before you settle down with that bloke." Candice sat up a bit straighter, eyeing John strangely.

"You mean you're gay?"

"I'm not gay."

"But you're marrying a guy."

"I am." Rather than be repulsed or confused by this information, Candice seemed intrigued and almost enticed by it. Her smile grew and she shifted in John's lap, draping one glitter-covered arm over his shoulders and bringing her face mere centimetres away from his.

"Oh come on John," she drawled, reaching up to run a fingertip along his jawline, "Live a little. God knows you'll probably never have a woman in this position again."

Just as John was opening his mouth to say something, he felt a buzzing in his pocket. He somehow managed to reach into his pocket without disturbing Candice and pulled out his mobile. He looked at the screen and saw that Greg Lestrade had sent him a picture message. With a smile of eager anticipation he opened the message, and started laughing when the picture finally loaded.

It was a blurry picture, and the dim light of the bar made it difficult to see anything, but John could see Sherlock in the center of the screen, a look of disgust on his face with several men pressed against his front and back. The caption for the photo was 'This was the first thing I saw when I got here'.

John was about to put his phone away when it buzzed again with another message. John opened that one faster than the first, and felt his jaw drop when it loaded.

Sherlock was casually leaning against a bar with a drink in his hand and a neutral expression on his face, as if he hadn't had several men grinding on him several moments ago. Even in the dim lighting he looked gorgeous, perhaps even more so with the way the shadows were dancing on his angular face.

"Is that your fiance?" Candice asked, leaning over to see the phone screen. "Boy, you're a lucky fella." John just smiled and tucked his phone away after saving the pictures.

It would be another ten minutes or so before the next picture was received, and fortunately by then Candice was long gone. John was still a bit flustered from her "performance" when he pulled his phone from his pocket, and kept his head down so the guys sitting with him at the table wouldn't see.

The picture was of Sherlock, back on the dance floor, still with a drink in his hand. Though, this time he actually seemed to be enjoying himself, and was possibly even dancing from the looks of it. John noticed another familiar face in the picture, and after a brief moment he realized it was the Victor fellow from the engagement party. He was standing in front of Sherlock, facing him, smiling with his hands in the air. He was obviously drunk, but John couldn't be sure if Sherlock was. Though his face did seem a bit pinker than it had been in the picture before it.

About five minutes later John received two more photos. The first was of Sherlock and Victor, back at the bar, mid-conversation. Victor was holding a glass of something, but thankfully Sherlock's hands were empty. John was glad he was being somewhat responsible and not getting completely wasted. He knew neither of them would be happy if Sherlock had a hangover at their wedding.

John opened the next picture and nearly chocked on the saliva he sucked in when he gasped. Sherlock was sitting in a chair with his legs spread open, and some bloke in a bright orange top was sitting in his lap. He was bent over, seemingly whispering something in Sherlock's ear, and John felt his blood begin to boil. That was, until he saw that Sherlock was being held in place by a pair of hands on his shoulders and his facial expression looked completely horrified. Then, John laughed, and though he knew he would probably receive no response he typed out a text to Sherlock anyway.

Having fun? Not even a minute later John's phone was buzzing.

Can you talk? SH

John excused himself from the table on the pretense that he was headed to the restroom, though he was sure everyone knew why he was leaving. Still, he did go inside the bathroom before he answered Sherlock's text.

I can now.

Twenty seconds hadn't passed before John's phone began ringing. John took a quick look around to make sure he was alone before he answered.

"Hi."

"John, this is absolutely horrendous." John could hear a slight echo in the background, meaning Sherlock had absconded himself to the restroom as well.

"So i take it you're not enjoying yourself?" He could hear Sherlock sigh, but in a way that implied amusement rather than irritation.

"If I find out whose idea it was to bring me here I swear I'll-"

"It was my idea."

"...really?"

"Maybe." It wasn't, but John was curious to see what Sherlock's reaction would be. "It doesn't matter whose idea it was. You're supposed to be having fun."

"Are you having fun?"

"Oh, tons. You're lucky I decided to tear myself away from the busty blonde who'd been sitting in my lap. I may still be covered in glitter tomorrow.."

"Johnn..."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." John laughed, then sighed. "I really miss you actually. A joint stag night's not looking so bad now." Sherlock remained silent for almost a full minute, and John began wondering if the call had been disconnected, or if Sherlock had hung up, and was about to end the call when Sherlock spoke up.

"I love you." John tried not to laugh, but his voice shook slightly when he spoke.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"The amount of alcohol I've consumed has nothing to do with my love for you. Why is it that I can't just say 'I love you' to the man I'm going to marry tomorrow? Am I really that cold?"

"You're hammered, aren't you?"

"I'll admit I'm certainly not sober." John laughed, and he could hear Sherlock laughing as well. "I still love you though, no matter my blood alcohol content."

"And I love you." He could hear Sherlock sigh heavily on the other end of the line.

"I suppose I'll let you get back to your lap dance or whatever it is you're getting up to over there."

"I guess I could say the same to you." There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line, and John was sure he burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh.

"How did you-"

"See you tomorrow!" John cut in, still fighting a laugh. Several seconds of silence passed before he heard anything on the other end of the line, and even then it was only a sigh. Still, it sounded more like a teenager thinking about their crush than a man annoyed with his fiancé, and John found himself smiling as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Yes," Sherlock finally said. "Tomorrow."

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