Performance In a Leading Role (18/20) Part 1 of 2
Title: Performance in a Leading Role
Author: MadLori
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 8850 (this chapter)
Genre: AU, romance
Warnings: None
Rating: NC-17
Beta: tzikeh
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?
Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12 -- Chapter 13 -- Chapter 14 -- Interlude -- Chapter 15 -- Chapter 16 -- Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Paul: WKRE Talk Radio, FM 88.5, you’re listening to Smash Cuts, your source for Hollywood news and gossip, and we live for dirt so if you’ve got some, call the Enquirer and we’ll have to hear about it from them, because we’re broke and can’t pay you. I’m Paul, with me as always are Chazz and Gretchen.
Chazz: Yo.
Gretchen: And a pleasant good day to you.
Paul: It’s the end of our Week of Oscar here, so we’re finally going to talk about the most-discussed race on the ballot, the Best Actor race.
Chazz: I don’t think there’s much to talk about. Moriarty has this in the bag. Vegas had him as a two-to-one favorite after the Golden Globes, and after he won the SAG it went up to five-to-one.
Gretchen: It’s not about him, it’s about John and Sherlock.
Chazz: So they hooked up-it doesn’t mean that this award should be all about that.
Paul: I don’t think it is. A lot of people feel that John Watson deserves the Oscar.
Chazz: Then the question we should be asking is why Moriarty has been winning everything if Watson is such a favorite.
Gretchen: Just about every major critic’s award in the country went to John. People can’t help but wonder if his relationship with Sherlock is hurting him with voters.
Chazz: It isn’t as if Moriarty’s stealing these awards. He turned in a strong, courageous performance.
Gretchen: It was an obvious, accessible performance, and the critics tend to appreciate a subtler, more controlled approach. And John has the element of surprise. Nobody had any idea he had that kind of a performance in him.
Paul: I can honestly say that was the best acting I’ve seen in years, period.
Chazz: I agree that To a Stranger was a better movie. But it’s a smaller, less showy movie. We know that isn’t always what gets rewarded by the Academy.
Gretchen: It’s a little puzzling to me that no one’s talking about the other contenders for this award. Even Sherlock’s been all but forgotten in the orgy over Watson.
Paul: Leaving aside their performances, it’s strange that a studio would put two actors from the same film up for Best Actor. Conventional wisdom holds that they’ll split the vote and neither of them will win.
Gretchen: Maybe that’s exactly what’s happening.
Chazz: Why would Focus put them both up, then?
Gretchen: I don’t know, but I know I’d have a hard time picking which one of them to knock down to Supporting. Agents may have been involved. Maybe it was a both-or-neither thing. Either way, it is true that Sherlock’s performance has been all but swallowed up by the buzz over John.
Paul: Well, Sherlock didn’t have that element of surprise. We already knew he was a good actor. Still, I thought he outdid himself this time. His performance was emotional in a way that he typically isn’t.
Chazz: You can’t help but wonder if that’s because he and Watson were basically falling in love while they made this movie.
Gretchen: According to them, they weren’t.
Chazz: That’s not what they said. They said they didn’t get together until last August, not that they hadn’t fallen in love.
Paul: Is that hurting both of them? Are they not getting credit for playing two characters who fall in love because people think they were just recreating their off-screen relationship?
Chazz: Yes.
Gretchen: Maybe, but they shouldn’t be faulted for that. Obviously their characters are different people having different experiences than the actors playing them. They both created original performances.
Paul: Now, it’s no secret that Moriarty and Holmes can’t stand each other.
Chazz: Oh, you think?
Paul: Last week on Leno, Moriarty all but accused them of fabricating this coming-out relationship drama to drum up interest in the movie.
Gretchen: I still can’t believe he said that.
Chazz: That wasn’t the first time he’s implied it, either.
Paul: Does anybody think that could really be true?
Gretchen: I don’t. No actor would fake a same-sex relationship for this long-
Chazz: Or at all.
Gretchen: Right, or at all, if it weren’t true. It’s way too risky and too potentially career-ending. The cost-benefit doesn’t work out. Besides, have you seen them together? I’d kill to have a man look at me the way they look at each other.
Chazz: I may vomit. Just so you know.
Paul: So what’s Moriarty’s game plan here? Is he trying to put off voters? Is it just sour grapes?
Gretchen: He’d have some nerve being sour about having won both of the major awards so far this season. He is the front-runner for the Oscar, even though Watson has stronger buzz.
Paul: And it may backfire. Watson’s lack of award recognition may give him that underdog vibe that makes people want to vote for him.
Chazz: Critical buzz isn’t the arbiter of Oscar, as we all know. The critics loved the performance, but the Academy has other standards and some serious prejudices.
Gretchen: Incomprehensible standards, some of which are the direct result of how much of the Academy is made up of old white guys.
Paul: Let’s not forget that there are two other contenders for the award. Who do you want to talk about first, Jean or George?
John stared at himself in the mirror, adjusting the waistband of his trousers. The ends of his silk bow tie were hanging loose, and the jacket of his brand-new tuxedo was on the valet stand. He’d put in some time choosing this tuxedo, given the enormity of the occasion. It was a classic tux, his usual preference, but with silk peaked lapels which lent it a little whimsy, not to mention some breadth to his shoulders. He’d need the confidence boost of a great tuxedo tonight--not only was he up for an Oscar, but he would be photographed countless times standing next to one of the most striking men in Hollywood.
The sense of unreality that had begun the morning of the nominations had not dissipated. It had deepened at the nominees’ luncheon, when he’d tried to act as if he were totally at ease in a room full of his more-prestigious colleagues, and hadn’t let up since. He sighed, his stomach rolling as the hour of their departure drew nearer. He met Sherlock’s eyes in their dressing-room mirror, and all at once the surreality was too much for him. “Fuck! I’m an Oscar nominee! I’m an Oscar nominee, and I’m going to be sitting the front row between Sherlock Holmes and Meryl-motherfucking-Streep.”
“Let it never be said that John Watson does anything halfway. At least neither of us has to sit next to Moriarty.”
John blew air through his teeth. “Suddenly I’m nervous.”
“Were you not nervous before?”
“Suddenly I’m really nervous.”
“Don’t be. Meryl is lovely.”
“God, how can you be so calm? You might win an Oscar tonight!”
“Unlikely, but if there is justice in the world, you will. Have you considered your speech?”
John shut his eyes. “No. Seemed like a jinx.”
“That is ridiculous. The identity of the winner will not be affected by whether or not you think about your speech.”
“I know that! God, are you being extra-Sherlocky tonight just to irritate me?” John pawed through his top drawer, frustrated. “Shit, where are my cuff links?”
“Which ones?”
“I only have one pair! Where are they? Dammit, I hardly ever wear them; they didn’t leap out of my drawer and scarper.”
“Try these.”
John turned and reflexively caught the small jewelry box that Sherlock had just lobbed at him. He frowned and opened it to reveal a pair of gleaming silver cuff links, engraved with an elegant geometric pattern. “Are these yours?”
“No. They are brand-new, as is patently obvious.”
“Are these…for me?”
Sherlock blinked. “Of course they are. Why would I have given them to you if they were for someone else?”
“They’re gorgeous!”
“Then they suit you.” Sherlock stepped close and plucked one of the cuff links out of the box, then lifted John’s wrist and began fastening his cuff with it. “I admit I was at a loss as to an appropriate gift for the occasion.”
“The Oscars?”
Sherlock glanced quickly up into his eyes, then away again. “Not exactly.”
“What occasion, then? Oh God, I haven’t forgotten an anniversary or something, have I?”
Sherlock smiled. “No. Take a closer look.”
John examined the other cuff link and saw that something else was woven into the engraved pattern. “Oh, there are numbers here. Roman numerals. What’s it say, it’s…seventeen-one-eleven. Is that….” John looked up at Sherlock, his eyes widening. “That’s….”
“The day we met.” Sherlock looked rather embarrassed, probably at having been caught out in an expression of sentiment. “I hope that isn’t too…pedestrian.”
“It’s brilliant,” John said, keeping his eyes lowered; he was afraid he might lose it completely if he looked at Sherlock’s face right then.
“I’m afraid I’ve little experience with such things. I did some research, but it all seemed so ridiculous. Do people really hide jewelry in desserts, or at the bottom of wineglasses?” Sherlock took the cuff link, lifted John’s other wrist, then drew a few careful breaths before speaking again. “John, some time ago you asked me a question, and I said no.”
John nodded. “I remember.” His Oscar butterflies had been replaced by an entirely new species. He didn’t dare make any sudden movements; Sherlock had obviously been working up to this for some time and John didn’t want to distract him. Get to it, you clot, so I can say yes and we can start planning our honeymoon.
Sherlock finished with John’s cuff, but he didn’t release him--he just stood where he was, hanging on to both John’s hands with his eyes lowered. “I know that we’ve had something of an understanding-”
“An understanding? Are we in a Jane Austen novel?”
Sherlock flicked a withering glance at him. “Please, John. This isn’t easy for me.”
“Sorry.”
“What I mean to say is that despite whatever understanding we have, I thought-that is, it seemed it ought to be….” He broke off and gave a frustrated little head-shake. “How do people do this?” he muttered.
“Do what, exactly?” John strove to keep the smirk from his voice, not entirely successfully.
“You are not helping.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet.” John held on to Sherlock’s hands, fighting the smile that wanted to take over his face.
“I’m making a proper mess of this. I wanted it to be perfect.” Sherlock took another deep breath, then lifted his head and looked John right in the eyes. “John, I love you. Will you marry me?”
A great bubble of joy rose in John’s chest. He couldn’t do much but grin helplessly. Sherlock could be in no doubt as to his answer-he’d posed the question himself first, after all-but John still saw a trace of expectation and anxiety lurking behind his eyes. “Yes, of course I will.”
Sherlock grinned back, dropped John’s hands and pulled him into a hug. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s back and held him tightly. “Thank God,” Sherlock said into his ear.
“I love you, too, you know.”
John felt the tension leaving Sherlock’s body. “Ought I to have got down on one knee?” Sherlock said.
John laughed, drawing back. “In your tuxedo trousers? I think not.”
Sherlock was as close to giddy as he was capable of being, smiling and loose-limbed. “Here, help me with this,” he said, holding out his waistcoat. John turned him around to buckle it at the small of Sherlock’s back; it would just peek out from underneath his jacket in a touch of deep red against the black tuxedo.
Sherlock moved behind him and reached around John’s shoulders to tie his bow tie. “I’m capable of tying my own,” John said, still a little starry-eyed as he looked in the mirror at his brand-new fiance.
“Nonsense. I’ve seen your attempts. I practically grew up in a tuxedo. I learned to tie a bow tie when I learned to tie my shoelaces.” He expertly twisted the black silk into a perfect bow; John had to admit it was better than the one he’d have tied. Sherlock let his hands rest on John’s shoulders; for a moment they just looked at themselves in the mirror. “I think we look rather well together,” Sherlock said, quietly.
John smiled. “I think so, too.” He brought his hands up to cover Sherlock’s, his engagement presents gleaming at his cuffs. “I love my cuff links. Thank you.”
“Well, a ring didn’t seem appropriate, but I did want to offer you some sort of token. A bribe, if you’re of a cynical bent of mind.”
“As if I’d need bribing. We’ll have to go out and find our own rings now, I suppose. Will you wear one? You don’t care much for jewelry.”
“I’ll be honored to wear any ring you put on my finger, John.”
John turned away from the mirror and looked up at him. “You realize what this means?”
“That I can’t be forced to testify against you if you murder someone?”
“No,” John said, laughing. “I mean, yes, that’s true, or it will be, but that’s not what I mean.”
“Then tell me what you mean.”
“It’s…for real. We’re really doing this. You and me, for the rest of our lives.” Obviously, Sherlock knew this, but saying it out loud gave John a bit of a shiver. He’d never put it so bluntly, not even in his own mind.
Sherlock nodded. “That is the whole idea, is it not? That we pledge ourselves to each other and promise to share our lives? I believe we’ve already done that, John. But I recognize the need to legitimize the relationship with official documentation and the blessing of a governmental body, although it does rather baffle me.” Seeing John’s somewhat bewildered expression, Sherlock went on. “What I mean to say is that I already consider myself your partner for life. The rest is just-paperwork. So it’s been ‘for real’, as you say, for some time. At least, it has for me.”
“It has for me, too. But I’d still like to be able to tell the world that you’re my husband.”
“Would you like me to wear a badge of some sort, identifying me as such?” Sherlock teased him, his eyes sparkling.
John grinned. “No. Not a badge. Perhaps a tattoo….” John had to laugh at Sherlock’s horrified expression. No matter what happened at the ceremony tonight, he would have this, and they would have each other, and that was the best award he could have got for this film.
Continue to Part 2
Author: MadLori
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 8850 (this chapter)
Genre: AU, romance
Warnings: None
Rating: NC-17
Beta: tzikeh
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?
Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12 -- Chapter 13 -- Chapter 14 -- Interlude -- Chapter 15 -- Chapter 16 -- Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Paul: WKRE Talk Radio, FM 88.5, you’re listening to Smash Cuts, your source for Hollywood news and gossip, and we live for dirt so if you’ve got some, call the Enquirer and we’ll have to hear about it from them, because we’re broke and can’t pay you. I’m Paul, with me as always are Chazz and Gretchen.
Chazz: Yo.
Gretchen: And a pleasant good day to you.
Paul: It’s the end of our Week of Oscar here, so we’re finally going to talk about the most-discussed race on the ballot, the Best Actor race.
Chazz: I don’t think there’s much to talk about. Moriarty has this in the bag. Vegas had him as a two-to-one favorite after the Golden Globes, and after he won the SAG it went up to five-to-one.
Gretchen: It’s not about him, it’s about John and Sherlock.
Chazz: So they hooked up-it doesn’t mean that this award should be all about that.
Paul: I don’t think it is. A lot of people feel that John Watson deserves the Oscar.
Chazz: Then the question we should be asking is why Moriarty has been winning everything if Watson is such a favorite.
Gretchen: Just about every major critic’s award in the country went to John. People can’t help but wonder if his relationship with Sherlock is hurting him with voters.
Chazz: It isn’t as if Moriarty’s stealing these awards. He turned in a strong, courageous performance.
Gretchen: It was an obvious, accessible performance, and the critics tend to appreciate a subtler, more controlled approach. And John has the element of surprise. Nobody had any idea he had that kind of a performance in him.
Paul: I can honestly say that was the best acting I’ve seen in years, period.
Chazz: I agree that To a Stranger was a better movie. But it’s a smaller, less showy movie. We know that isn’t always what gets rewarded by the Academy.
Gretchen: It’s a little puzzling to me that no one’s talking about the other contenders for this award. Even Sherlock’s been all but forgotten in the orgy over Watson.
Paul: Leaving aside their performances, it’s strange that a studio would put two actors from the same film up for Best Actor. Conventional wisdom holds that they’ll split the vote and neither of them will win.
Gretchen: Maybe that’s exactly what’s happening.
Chazz: Why would Focus put them both up, then?
Gretchen: I don’t know, but I know I’d have a hard time picking which one of them to knock down to Supporting. Agents may have been involved. Maybe it was a both-or-neither thing. Either way, it is true that Sherlock’s performance has been all but swallowed up by the buzz over John.
Paul: Well, Sherlock didn’t have that element of surprise. We already knew he was a good actor. Still, I thought he outdid himself this time. His performance was emotional in a way that he typically isn’t.
Chazz: You can’t help but wonder if that’s because he and Watson were basically falling in love while they made this movie.
Gretchen: According to them, they weren’t.
Chazz: That’s not what they said. They said they didn’t get together until last August, not that they hadn’t fallen in love.
Paul: Is that hurting both of them? Are they not getting credit for playing two characters who fall in love because people think they were just recreating their off-screen relationship?
Chazz: Yes.
Gretchen: Maybe, but they shouldn’t be faulted for that. Obviously their characters are different people having different experiences than the actors playing them. They both created original performances.
Paul: Now, it’s no secret that Moriarty and Holmes can’t stand each other.
Chazz: Oh, you think?
Paul: Last week on Leno, Moriarty all but accused them of fabricating this coming-out relationship drama to drum up interest in the movie.
Gretchen: I still can’t believe he said that.
Chazz: That wasn’t the first time he’s implied it, either.
Paul: Does anybody think that could really be true?
Gretchen: I don’t. No actor would fake a same-sex relationship for this long-
Chazz: Or at all.
Gretchen: Right, or at all, if it weren’t true. It’s way too risky and too potentially career-ending. The cost-benefit doesn’t work out. Besides, have you seen them together? I’d kill to have a man look at me the way they look at each other.
Chazz: I may vomit. Just so you know.
Paul: So what’s Moriarty’s game plan here? Is he trying to put off voters? Is it just sour grapes?
Gretchen: He’d have some nerve being sour about having won both of the major awards so far this season. He is the front-runner for the Oscar, even though Watson has stronger buzz.
Paul: And it may backfire. Watson’s lack of award recognition may give him that underdog vibe that makes people want to vote for him.
Chazz: Critical buzz isn’t the arbiter of Oscar, as we all know. The critics loved the performance, but the Academy has other standards and some serious prejudices.
Gretchen: Incomprehensible standards, some of which are the direct result of how much of the Academy is made up of old white guys.
Paul: Let’s not forget that there are two other contenders for the award. Who do you want to talk about first, Jean or George?
John stared at himself in the mirror, adjusting the waistband of his trousers. The ends of his silk bow tie were hanging loose, and the jacket of his brand-new tuxedo was on the valet stand. He’d put in some time choosing this tuxedo, given the enormity of the occasion. It was a classic tux, his usual preference, but with silk peaked lapels which lent it a little whimsy, not to mention some breadth to his shoulders. He’d need the confidence boost of a great tuxedo tonight--not only was he up for an Oscar, but he would be photographed countless times standing next to one of the most striking men in Hollywood.
The sense of unreality that had begun the morning of the nominations had not dissipated. It had deepened at the nominees’ luncheon, when he’d tried to act as if he were totally at ease in a room full of his more-prestigious colleagues, and hadn’t let up since. He sighed, his stomach rolling as the hour of their departure drew nearer. He met Sherlock’s eyes in their dressing-room mirror, and all at once the surreality was too much for him. “Fuck! I’m an Oscar nominee! I’m an Oscar nominee, and I’m going to be sitting the front row between Sherlock Holmes and Meryl-motherfucking-Streep.”
“Let it never be said that John Watson does anything halfway. At least neither of us has to sit next to Moriarty.”
John blew air through his teeth. “Suddenly I’m nervous.”
“Were you not nervous before?”
“Suddenly I’m really nervous.”
“Don’t be. Meryl is lovely.”
“God, how can you be so calm? You might win an Oscar tonight!”
“Unlikely, but if there is justice in the world, you will. Have you considered your speech?”
John shut his eyes. “No. Seemed like a jinx.”
“That is ridiculous. The identity of the winner will not be affected by whether or not you think about your speech.”
“I know that! God, are you being extra-Sherlocky tonight just to irritate me?” John pawed through his top drawer, frustrated. “Shit, where are my cuff links?”
“Which ones?”
“I only have one pair! Where are they? Dammit, I hardly ever wear them; they didn’t leap out of my drawer and scarper.”
“Try these.”
John turned and reflexively caught the small jewelry box that Sherlock had just lobbed at him. He frowned and opened it to reveal a pair of gleaming silver cuff links, engraved with an elegant geometric pattern. “Are these yours?”
“No. They are brand-new, as is patently obvious.”
“Are these…for me?”
Sherlock blinked. “Of course they are. Why would I have given them to you if they were for someone else?”
“They’re gorgeous!”
“Then they suit you.” Sherlock stepped close and plucked one of the cuff links out of the box, then lifted John’s wrist and began fastening his cuff with it. “I admit I was at a loss as to an appropriate gift for the occasion.”
“The Oscars?”
Sherlock glanced quickly up into his eyes, then away again. “Not exactly.”
“What occasion, then? Oh God, I haven’t forgotten an anniversary or something, have I?”
Sherlock smiled. “No. Take a closer look.”
John examined the other cuff link and saw that something else was woven into the engraved pattern. “Oh, there are numbers here. Roman numerals. What’s it say, it’s…seventeen-one-eleven. Is that….” John looked up at Sherlock, his eyes widening. “That’s….”
“The day we met.” Sherlock looked rather embarrassed, probably at having been caught out in an expression of sentiment. “I hope that isn’t too…pedestrian.”
“It’s brilliant,” John said, keeping his eyes lowered; he was afraid he might lose it completely if he looked at Sherlock’s face right then.
“I’m afraid I’ve little experience with such things. I did some research, but it all seemed so ridiculous. Do people really hide jewelry in desserts, or at the bottom of wineglasses?” Sherlock took the cuff link, lifted John’s other wrist, then drew a few careful breaths before speaking again. “John, some time ago you asked me a question, and I said no.”
John nodded. “I remember.” His Oscar butterflies had been replaced by an entirely new species. He didn’t dare make any sudden movements; Sherlock had obviously been working up to this for some time and John didn’t want to distract him. Get to it, you clot, so I can say yes and we can start planning our honeymoon.
Sherlock finished with John’s cuff, but he didn’t release him--he just stood where he was, hanging on to both John’s hands with his eyes lowered. “I know that we’ve had something of an understanding-”
“An understanding? Are we in a Jane Austen novel?”
Sherlock flicked a withering glance at him. “Please, John. This isn’t easy for me.”
“Sorry.”
“What I mean to say is that despite whatever understanding we have, I thought-that is, it seemed it ought to be….” He broke off and gave a frustrated little head-shake. “How do people do this?” he muttered.
“Do what, exactly?” John strove to keep the smirk from his voice, not entirely successfully.
“You are not helping.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet.” John held on to Sherlock’s hands, fighting the smile that wanted to take over his face.
“I’m making a proper mess of this. I wanted it to be perfect.” Sherlock took another deep breath, then lifted his head and looked John right in the eyes. “John, I love you. Will you marry me?”
A great bubble of joy rose in John’s chest. He couldn’t do much but grin helplessly. Sherlock could be in no doubt as to his answer-he’d posed the question himself first, after all-but John still saw a trace of expectation and anxiety lurking behind his eyes. “Yes, of course I will.”
Sherlock grinned back, dropped John’s hands and pulled him into a hug. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s back and held him tightly. “Thank God,” Sherlock said into his ear.
“I love you, too, you know.”
John felt the tension leaving Sherlock’s body. “Ought I to have got down on one knee?” Sherlock said.
John laughed, drawing back. “In your tuxedo trousers? I think not.”
Sherlock was as close to giddy as he was capable of being, smiling and loose-limbed. “Here, help me with this,” he said, holding out his waistcoat. John turned him around to buckle it at the small of Sherlock’s back; it would just peek out from underneath his jacket in a touch of deep red against the black tuxedo.
Sherlock moved behind him and reached around John’s shoulders to tie his bow tie. “I’m capable of tying my own,” John said, still a little starry-eyed as he looked in the mirror at his brand-new fiance.
“Nonsense. I’ve seen your attempts. I practically grew up in a tuxedo. I learned to tie a bow tie when I learned to tie my shoelaces.” He expertly twisted the black silk into a perfect bow; John had to admit it was better than the one he’d have tied. Sherlock let his hands rest on John’s shoulders; for a moment they just looked at themselves in the mirror. “I think we look rather well together,” Sherlock said, quietly.
John smiled. “I think so, too.” He brought his hands up to cover Sherlock’s, his engagement presents gleaming at his cuffs. “I love my cuff links. Thank you.”
“Well, a ring didn’t seem appropriate, but I did want to offer you some sort of token. A bribe, if you’re of a cynical bent of mind.”
“As if I’d need bribing. We’ll have to go out and find our own rings now, I suppose. Will you wear one? You don’t care much for jewelry.”
“I’ll be honored to wear any ring you put on my finger, John.”
John turned away from the mirror and looked up at him. “You realize what this means?”
“That I can’t be forced to testify against you if you murder someone?”
“No,” John said, laughing. “I mean, yes, that’s true, or it will be, but that’s not what I mean.”
“Then tell me what you mean.”
“It’s…for real. We’re really doing this. You and me, for the rest of our lives.” Obviously, Sherlock knew this, but saying it out loud gave John a bit of a shiver. He’d never put it so bluntly, not even in his own mind.
Sherlock nodded. “That is the whole idea, is it not? That we pledge ourselves to each other and promise to share our lives? I believe we’ve already done that, John. But I recognize the need to legitimize the relationship with official documentation and the blessing of a governmental body, although it does rather baffle me.” Seeing John’s somewhat bewildered expression, Sherlock went on. “What I mean to say is that I already consider myself your partner for life. The rest is just-paperwork. So it’s been ‘for real’, as you say, for some time. At least, it has for me.”
“It has for me, too. But I’d still like to be able to tell the world that you’re my husband.”
“Would you like me to wear a badge of some sort, identifying me as such?” Sherlock teased him, his eyes sparkling.
John grinned. “No. Not a badge. Perhaps a tattoo….” John had to laugh at Sherlock’s horrified expression. No matter what happened at the ceremony tonight, he would have this, and they would have each other, and that was the best award he could have got for this film.
Continue to Part 2