The Adventure of the Civil Partnership Chapter 3 A Belated Reading of the Banns
Sherlock and John are hunting a kidnapper who has been taking newlywed couples across the Greater London Area and Sherlock has the perfect way to flush him out. Warning: Pre-Slash/Slash of Sherlock/John Work in Progress - Very Slow Updates
Disclaimers: I certainly do not own Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s amazing creation of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Hamish Watson. I also do not own Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and the BBC’s adaptations of those works.
Spoiler Warnings: Series 1 and 2 of Sherlock
Ratings: M Warning Pre-Slash/Slash.
Beta: Ivory Winter
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Chapter 3 A Belated Reading of the Banns (Or for the Americans in the crowd - Wedding Announcements)
John’s laughter lasted for the several minutes it took them to get to the car. He just couldn’t help it; he honestly loved how insane his life was with Sherlock. Here he was walking arm in arm with his mad best friend, Sherlock smiling at John’s laughter, where everyone could see them and know they were married. It didn’t matter if this marriage wasn’t a love match, if it was just a way for Sherlock to catch a killer; in this moment he was just enjoying life with his friend.
Mrs. Hudson proceeded to fluster him on the car ride to breakfast by asking if they still wanted both the bedrooms. John blushed and stammered, but Sherlock jumped in with, “We will be keeping both rooms, Mrs. Hudson. We will eventually turn one into an office but with a futon to act as a spare bed. Our work schedules are so odd that it is very likely that one or the other of us will need to sleep on the spare bed occasionally to prevent us waking up the other. Don’t you think John?” Sherlock asked, a mischievous look in his eyes that John was sure Mrs. Hudson was completely misinterpreting, especially as Sherlock had taken John’s left hand and was absentmindedly playing with John’s ring.
John nodded his agreement somewhat absently, distracted by the hand on his, before his sense of humor kicked in and he teased back, “Well I can’t imagine ever minding you waking me. You need as much sleep as you can get when you deign to allow it, and a spare bed may also be helpful if we ever have guests over.” Sherlock grinned a little at the teasing.
The wedding breakfast with Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson was mercifully short. Mycroft had taken them to a ridiculously fancy restaurant, Mrs. Hudson continuing to snap photos and going on about how romantic the ceremony had been. Sherlock had sniped at his brother about his diet, and Mycroft continued to smile smugly at John and Sherlock, the latter making John slightly nervous and leaving him wondering what the man knew about John’s private thoughts. Fortunately for John’s sanity, Anthea, who introduced herself to a bemused Mrs. Hudson as Juno, had arrived a short while after they finished eating (but not Sherlock of course) to break up the celebration meal by indicating that Mycroft was needed back at the office.
The three of them were dropped off at Baker Street where John managed to escape Mrs. Hudson quickly by the simple expedient of needing to get to the surgery. He bolted out of the flat a short while later, for once running ahead of schedule, after a brief argument with Sherlock about the need to announce their marriage on his blog, with Mrs. Hudson muttering in the background about domestics as he escaped to what he thought would be the relative sanity of work.
If John had thought Mrs. Hudson had been bad, the women at the surgery were worse. Sherlock might bemoan the average person’s ability to observe, but he had obviously never noticed a woman’s ability to spot wedding rings. In less than ten minutes John was cornered in the break room by two of the receptionists and Sarah grilling him about the ring.
“John! Why didn’t you tell us you were getting married?” Sarah asked, not even giving him a moment to answer before running on with, “you didn’t even tell me you were dating and I didn’t see anything on your blog. Who is the wonderful woman?”
“Umm…” John hesitated before admitting, “Well, it’s Sherlock.” If his brief argument with Sherlock about the blog earlier had been any indication of how widespread Sherlock was going to spread this information, not to mention the ring was very apparently quite noticeable, it was better that John tell Sarah and his co-workers now.
“Sherlock!!!! John why didn’t you tell me you two were finally dating? Were you afraid I would be offended or angry or …?” Sarah asked, trailing off, obviously hurt.
“No! No Sarah, I didn’t avoid telling you because I was afraid of your reaction,” John tried to reassure her. John had realized on the way to the surgery that he needed to have some answer ready for the questions his friends were going to ask. He didn’t even want to consider explaining this to Harry. “I was…I was surprised by my feelings for Sherlock and it took a while to adjust and then we wanted the civil partnership ceremony to be private. You know how Sherlock is; can you imagine him handling a large amount of people at the ceremony? We’re still arguing about how we want to handle the announcement to everyone else,” John continued, blushing slightly out of nervous embarrassment. “I haven’t even decided how I am going to tell Harry yet.” John was actually slightly proud and ashamed of himself simultaneously as his answer had the benefit of being entirely the truth while still obscuring reality.
Eventually Sarah forgave him for not telling her, and then spent several minutes pumping him for information on the ceremony and how the flatmates had started dating. John finally managed to escape Sarah and the other women; the original three women had been quickly joined by what seemed to be every other female member of the surgery staff, by running off to hide in his exam room to see patients. Thinking about Sarah’s words later in the afternoon, John realized he had an answer to his questions about what Sarah knew about his feelings towards his flatmate. That ‘finally dating’ line obviously meant that Sarah had deduced John’s feelings at some point in the past, if not from the time John and Sarah had dated.
When John finally arrived home after a dull caseload of vaccinations, cold patients and a hypochondriac who had made him late, he collapsed on the couch in mental exhaustion. Sarah and his co-workers had all been so happy for him, he didn’t know what he was going to do when he had to explain to them it was for a case. He probably should have argued with Sherlock harder to keep it more of a secret, but in their brief argument that morning Sherlock convinced him that they needed to have no holes in their story if this kidnapper noticed them. If the kidnapper thought that Sherlock was hunting him instead of the other way around, the man might go underground or move and they might not catch him. John had caved rather quickly in the face of Sherlock’s logic. He was too much a doctor and soldier to risk innocent lives just to save himself a little stress at a future date.
John was sitting on Sherlock’s couch attempting to let go of some of the tensions of the afternoon and trying to decide if he had the energy to cook tonight or if he should just order take away, when Sherlock whirled into the room carrying John’s laptop.
“Finally, John! We have a fascinating case, the least you can do is get home from the surgery on time. As we discussed this morning, we need to get a post on your blog immediately about our relationship and the civil partnership ceremony to help cement to the public the authenticity of our marriage. Mrs. Hudson gave me a CD copy of her photos, you will need to pick one to use for the blog. I have written the blog entry for you, but since you objected rather stridently the last time I posted without your approval, I have it ready for your perusal,” Sherlock said, all the while moving rapidly around the room, one hand barely holding the laptop, the other hand gesturing widely.
“Sherlock! Laptop! Table! Now!” John barked as his stomach dropped through his feet, watching his flatmate swing his laptop around. If the gangly lout dropped it, John would have to save for several months to replace it. Sherlock’s cases kept John’s availability so erratic that he had a hard time making sure there was enough money for food and their rent, much less saving up money for extras. John was constantly grateful that Sarah had stayed friends with him and was so understanding of Sherlock’s need for his help, otherwise he doubted he would have been able to keep up his locum work at her surgery.
Sherlock pouted at John’s command, unfortunately rather adorably John thought, as he dropped the laptop on to the messy table they shared as a desk in the sitting room. “John! Don’t fuss, just read the entry I wrote on your laptop and then post it to your blog,” he ordered as he walked over the coffee table to drop onto the couch, waving a graceful hand at John, shooing him off the couch toward the laptop.
“Just let me get a cup of tea, Sherlock, it was a really long day,” John sighed as he moved into the kitchen.
“Sarah and the rest of the staff send their congratulations by the way. Apparently they think we will make a fantastic pair. I had to talk fast to convince them that we didn’t need wedding gifts. Seriously, when this is over, you are going to help me explain to everyone why we pulled a fast one. I am not going to take all the flak for this,” John said several minutes later as he settled in front of his laptop with his cup of tea.
Sherlock just waved a dismissive hand from the couch, “Blog John.”
John started laughing softly as he read the entry Sherlock had written. “Sherlock you seriously didn’t expect me to post this on my blog, did you? Firstly the tone of the writing is definitely yours, I don’t think I have used that many three syllable words in a row since I graduated from medical school. Secondly, I really don’t think anyone cares about the history of civil partnerships. I’m sorry Sherlock, but no one I know would ever believe that I would announce my marriage, not to mention come out to the entire world this way. You can use this one to put on your website if you want, but I am going to order some take away and then I will type up my own blog entry. I’ll show it to you when I am done, okay?”
Sherlock had rolled his eyes and made a grumpy hurmping noise, which John chose to take as agreement. An hour later, during which he got several rude comments about his two finger typing method and how John really should have finished the blog before taking time out to eat, John finally had something put together that he liked. It had almost been too easy, he just let his feelings out, or what he actually would have been feeling if this had been real. He was walking a fine line. If he went a little too far, Sherlock would figure out his feelings and he would lose everything. John figured that it was a good thing he was an adrenaline junky or the stress would have him going stark raving mad.
“Alright Sherlock, what do you think of this?” John finally asked, taking the laptop over to the couch, lying it on Sherlock’s lap as he took a seat on the coffee table.
“I suppose it is similar to your blog entries and case histories, but really John, a tad overly romantic don’t you think?” Sherlock said after reading it, his voice teasing.
“Sherlock,” John replied laughing a little, “as much as I dislike arguing with my husband on our wedding day, this is my personal blog not a research article, and my friends will be expecting at least some personal information, especially if you want this to act as a blind for the kidnapper. I promise not to write any sonnets about your grey eyes, but I am certainly not going to describe my husband and marriage in clinical terms either.”
Sherlock made a grimacing smile at John’s comment, before conceding. “Fine, now which picture should we post?”
John had also considered his photo choices while writing the blog entry; Mrs. Hudson had taken a surprising amount of snapshots that morning. Several of the photos made John cringe internally as he couldn’t understand how anyone, much less Sherlock could look at the photo and not realize just how much of John’s heart was visible. The one of Sherlock kissing John’s ring had been so glaringly painfully obvious that John had considered running right then and there. John knew before this was over he was going to get copies of those photos, and that one in particular, and stash them somewhere Sherlock wouldn’t find. In the end he had picked one that Mrs. Hudson had taken just as John had finished sliding the ring on to Sherlock’s finger. John felt safe with this shot; it seemed to show an emotional bond between the two of them without making John feel exposed.
“Hmmm… That one works,” Sherlock said in mild approval.
John closed his eyes for a moment, considering all the people he would have to face when he eventually had to explain that Sherlock had only married him for a case. “You’re sure this is the right move, Sherlock? We need to do this to solve the case?”
“John, this really is vital,” Sherlock replied.
“Alright then,” John said as he pulled the laptop around to face him. A few moments of two finger typing and, “It’s done. Lord save us from what our friends and relatives are going to do to us. Speaking of relatives, I am going to ignore any of Harry’s calls tonight, so don’t be surprised if she starts ringing you. Feel free to ignore her. I’ll deal with her tomorrow.”
Sherlock had nodded, turning John’s laptop back to face himself. “I think we should be ready to start checking out some of the activities tomorrow. I presumed that it would look out of character if we went out tonight, wedding night and all that,” Sherlock looked at him for confirmation and John nodded, “but I thought that since we are not going on a honeymoon trip, it would be alright to join the London Heathside tomorrow morning. I arranged for us to have our initial meeting be with a coach at the YMCA on Tottenham Lane instead of joining their training runs in the evening.”
“Something special about this coach?” John asked, having long since learned that Sherlock never arranged these things by chance.
“Excellent deduction John,” Sherlock said in mock approval, John just rolling his eyes. “The coach was working with the Ashdown’s in preparation for a marathon prior to their disappearance.”
“Ashdowns?” John asked.
“The second couple, the case in which the constabulary assumed the husband killed the wife,” Sherlock answered. “I can find no apparent link between the coach and the other victims but he appears to be the closest person to this couple. If nothing else, he likely knows information of which he is unaware. Fortunately the coach is also a veteran, so you will be able to form a bond with him that will allow us to obtain information, while leaving him ignorant of our true intentions.”
John just rolled his eyes at Sherlock’s assumption that John would be able convince this former soldier to give up whatever information that Sherlock thought he required. “Right, full case mode then,” John said, starting to push himself up off the coffee table. “In that case, I am going to turn in for the night unless you need me for anything else this evening?”
“Ah John, my dear husband, I will always need you,” Sherlock replied, a teasing smile on his face. “But if you insist on wasting perfectly good deduction time by sleeping, I can pester Gladstone tonight.”
John laughed and went to bed, leaving Sherlock setting John’s laptop aside and starting to look through the case files again. As he lay there, John lifted up his left hand and looked at the ring again. His thumb swept across the inlay, wishing he had Sherlock’s memory so he could imprint this feeling forever. Unconventional the day had been, and not entirely comfortable, which honestly was a good description of almost every day in his life since he had met Sherlock. John thought that his wedding day had suited him perfectly and tomorrow promised to be interesting. He smiled to himself and rolled over to sleep.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
John looked around in appreciation as they entered into the fitness club the next morning, his workout bag slung over his shoulder. He would really have to look into getting membership when this case was over. This place was only a mile or so from Baker Street and had excellent workout equipment. John thought it would probably help him keep up with Sherlock on cases if he had a better workout regime.
“Really John, I didn’t think you were the kind to worry about your figure,” Sherlock grumbled in his ear. “Mrs. Hudson was just complaining to me this morning that I really should feed you more, as she was sure you were losing weight again.”
“Ha, bloody ha,” John replied as he turned around to face Sherlock. “We all can’t live by osmosis and tea. If you must know, I was actually thinking that a more regular work out program would be good for my leg so I could keep up with my great galoot of a flatmate when he decides to go haring off over the rooftops.”
Sherlock actually looked a little taken aback at this reply and opened and closed his mouth a few times without saying anything, obviously realizing he had said something a bit not good but was not sure what and what he should do to fix it.
“Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes?” A questioning voice said from behind John, before Sherlock could decide what to say. John turned and found himself facing a tall athletic looking man in his mid to late thirties.
“Ahh… Mr. Walsh.” Sherlock said, placing a hand on the small of John’s back as he herded him towards the other man. “This is my husband John Watson.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Watson, Jeremy Walsh,” Jeremy said as he reached out to shake John’s hand.
“John and Sherlock, please,” John replied, shaking his hand. “We really appreciate you meeting us now. My work schedule makes it difficult to meet to go to the regular Tuesday evening intro run.”
“Not a problem, not a problem. Sherlock tells me that you are looking to train together for a half marathon as part of some recommended physical therapy.”
John did an internal sigh, wishing once again that Sherlock would fill him in on the details before dumping him into these situations, before answering, “Yeah I had a shoulder and leg injury in Afghanistan, the leg was bad enough that I had to use a cane for a couple months. I am still having some intermittent stiffness problems and my physical therapist thought some routine training for distance running might help.”
“You were wounded in action, I thought I noted on your blog that you were an army doc?” Jeremy asked.
John nodded, and when he didn’t add anything Sherlock replied for him, sounding proud. “John was a combat zone surgeon.”
Jeremy smiled and reached out to shake John’s hand again, “Well sir, it’s an honor to meet you. A combat surgeon put me and one of my mates back together after an IED took out our vehicle in Iraq back in ‘04. You lot do amazing work.”
John muttered embarrassed thanks as he took Jeremy’s hand again. John decided it was time to change the conversation, wishing Sherlock would jump in instead of standing there with a half grin on his face, looking every inch the perfect example of a proud spouse, all the while prodding John subtly in the back, obviously thinking John needed to get on with it. “So how did you become a trainer?” John asked somewhat randomly, just trying to get a conversation going.
“When I got back from Iraq I needed some mild physical therapy and something to do to keep me from going stir crazy, so I joined to start training for a full marathon. I rapidly got addicted to the ‘runner’s high’ and eventually realized I enjoyed helping my friends improve their training programs. So I went back to school to get a degree in physical therapy and got myself certified, oh, about four or five years ago,” Jeremy replied somewhat self-consciously.
“Excellent,” Sherlock cut in. “My research into your records indicates that you have successfully trained more than twenty separate couples like John and myself to compete in various marathons and half-marathons. In fact there were only three couples you trained who did not have completed marathons listed.” John’s relief at Sherlock’s ability to manipulate the conversation towards the Ashdowns was only dampened by his wish to strangle the man for his lack of tact. It probably didn’t even occur to the idiot that his approach was more than a bit aggressive.
Jeremy’s face was a study in confusion, “Umm…”
“Sorry Jeremy, if you have seen my blog you know Sherlock is a genius detective, and …well this is the consulting detective in action,” John rushed in quickly, before Jeremy became too offended. “Sherlock always researches every aspect of anything extensively and always wants to know every angle.”
“Of course I researched your coach John, don’t be dim. If I didn’t get you the best coach your therapy might be slowed by your trainer’s incompetence,” Sherlock replied, obviously irritated by John’s attempt to smooth things over.
“Sherlock,” John groaned, his hand coming up to cover his face, sure that Sherlock had just destroyed whatever good will he had managed to gain, when Jeremy started laughing.
“Alright, well in that case, I am honored that you considered me good enough to work with your husband, you obviously take good care of him,” Jeremy said continuing to chuckle. John flushing slightly as he realized that Jeremy was amused, thinking Sherlock was a dotting concerned husband.
“Excellent. Then what happened with the three couples who didn’t complete the marathon?” Sherlock asked, his eyes sharpening as he observed Jeremy’s response.
“One couple the wife became pregnant and wasn’t allowed to continue and the other couple broke up during training and didn’t get along well enough to continue together.”
“And the third couple?” John asked, quickly noticing Sherlock’s mild frown, stepping slightly backwards to land on Sherlock’s foot to prevent him from saying anything unwittingly offensive.
Sherlock sucked in a slightly pained breath as Jeremy looked uncomfortable and took a long look at the consulting detective before deciding to answer. “Actually given your reputation it wouldn’t take you long to find out so I might as well tell you. They disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Sherlock asked, obviously trying to elicit more information.
“Well the police were saying it looked like Derek killed Pam before running away to Norway, but they never found either one of them,” Jeremy said oddly defensively.
“If the police are sure, they must have some pretty convincing evidence,” Sherlock replied. John was a little proud of himself since he realized Sherlock was using his contradictory questioning technique to elicit information.
“No, I can’t believe that Derek killed Pam,” Jeremy said forcefully. “Not only were they one of the most loving committed couples I have ever met, Derek despised the cold, he never would have gone to Norway by himself. I told the DI investigating that it was completely ridiculous to imagine him going to Norway on his own, but that idiot wouldn’t listen to me. Pam kept all these travel brochures around for cruises and tours, they were convinced that this was proof that Derek would have been able to quickly plan a trip. It’s ridiculous; probably the only thing he and Pam disagreed about was taking their anniversary trip there. If he disliked it enough that he wouldn’t go there with the wife he loved, why would he go there to run away? Something horrible happened to them, but Derek didn’t kill Pam,” Jeremy finished in an irritated rush.
“Yes why would he,” Sherlock mused. “Perhaps it was a blind, pretend he didn’t like Norway thinking it would make it the perfect place to hide.”
“Well then he wasn’t very successful now was he, as the police are convinced that that is where he is hiding,” Jeremy threw back. “Besides, they hadn’t told anyone yet, but they were thinking about adopting. Derek showed me the several of those informational leaflets about the process. He and Pam were both so excited, but they didn’t want to tell many people until they had completed some of the steps and might have a chance to adopt. They would have been such good parents,” Jeremy finished, his voice trailing off in sadness as Sherlock practically drank in every word. John reached out a hand and squeezed the man’s arm, trying to offer him sympathy for the pain he obviously still felt at the loss of his friends so many years before.
“Sherlock didn’t mean to pick old scabs, Mr. Walsh,” John finally said into the tense silence. “He is just incapable of leaving a mystery alone. I would understand if you didn’t want to train us, but as one old soldier to another, I would appreciate it if you would still consider it,” John requested, trying to salvage something of the situation. He knew Sherlock probably wasn’t completely done with Jeremy, even though he apparently didn’t have any more questions right now.
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay. I tend to overreact when I talk about the Ashdowns, I considered them both my friends and I really feel the DI on the case didn’t serve them well.” Jeremy shook his head before continuing. “Alright, I need you both to fill out these health forms, and then if you could change into some workout clothes and meet me by the resistance machines, we’ll do some evaluations of you both and come up with a training schedule. Okay?”
John looked at Sherlock, who had his fingers steepled under his chin and was obviously thinking deeply. “Yeah that sounds like a plan. Give us twenty minutes?” Jeremy nodded as he moved away, still obviously tense.
John grabbed Sherlock’s arm and tugged him over to a counter on the wall. “Sherlock? Sherlock, you with me here?”
Sherlock look at John quizzically for a moment. “Yes, John?”
“You need to fill out this medical questionnaire.”
“You fill them out John, I need to think. Mr. Walsh’s information was interesting. The case notes had no information about possible adoptions or Mr. Ashdown’s apparent dislike of the cold. Although several of the interviews mentioned Norway, there was no mention about which spouse wanted the trip.”
“And it means…?” John asked as he started filling out their info.
“No idea yet. Fewer questions and more writing John. We only have eighteen minutes before we have to meet Mr. Walsh.”
“Good lord, I have filled out shorter medical questionnaires for you at the ER,” John grumbled under his breath as he filled in the information. “Hmmm… No family history of diabetes, no history of epilepsy, one gunshot wound to left shoulder, graze to right knee, no need to mention psychosomatic limp or your drug abuse, although I suppose we should mention you use nicotine patches. By the way, you’re going to have to eat at least two meals every day that we are running or I am going to pull the plug on the training. I am not picking your scrawny arse off the ground if you pass out from hypoglycemia.” John threw in the teasing comment, although he was serious about the threat, as he rapidly worked his way down the medical questionnaire. Sherlock grimaced at the demand but he nodded agreement at John’s glare.
“Activity level per day, odd, no box for chasing after criminals across London on an irregular basis, although I do see couch potato on the list,” John said, Sherlock rolling his eyes at the jab. “E-mail address for club activity updates, hmmm…” John looked at Sherlock questioningly.
“Put yours in John. It might be important to see how the club interacts with its club members.”
“Okay. Just a few more lifestyle questions,” John said muttering to himself, chewing on the end of the pen as he finished the questions. “Alright, done. Let’s go change and see what your drill sergeant of a trainer is going to put us through,” John said as he moved towards the changing area, Sherlock following him for once.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Two hours later John followed Sherlock back into the changing area refreshingly tired. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed a well-balanced work out. He frowned a little as he watched Sherlock moving slightly stiffly. “Sherlock did you pull something while we were running that two miles?’
“I’m fine John,” Sherlock said waving him off as he started to change, John moving to a bench on the other side of Sherlock so he was facing slightly away from him as he changed. He didn’t want to risk getting caught staring.
“Two hours and he wouldn’t talk about anything but the training,” Sherlock complained. “I need more information. I am sure that he wasn’t having an affair with either of them, that was obvious from his body language earlier, but he must have been close to them to be so sure that one wouldn’t kill the other. He must…” Sherlock suddenly broke off with a muffled moan, causing John to whip around in concern.
John was moving across the room before he was even aware of what he was doing. “My god Sherlock what did you do to your feet?” he said as he snapped into triage mode unconsciously. He knelt in front of Sherlock, gently removing his slightly bloody socks. Sherlock had brand new blood blisters, several of them already draining on the sides and top of the big toes and the right heel. “Sherlock, these are going to take a couple of days to heal. When we get back to the flat we’ll ice pack them and then you’re going to have to soak your feet in Epson salts for a while. I will bandage the feet up after that, but you’re going to have to let me change the bandages and check the blisters twice a day. I am not going to deal with an infection,” John lectured. “How did you do this anyway? We run after criminals all the time and I have never seen you limp.”
Sherlock looked embarrassed and started to pull on another pair of dry socks, before finally answering when John stopped him by taking away the socks. “I thought it would be good to fit in so I purchased a new pair of trainers, and I may have forgotten to break them in a little,” Sherlock finally answered a tad defensively.
John laughed lightly, his body shaking as he tried to suppress the worst of it so as not to offend Sherlock. “You really need a keeper, Sherlock.”
Sherlock smirked at this. “Was our civil partnership ceremony that forgettable? I already have a doctor for a husband, why would I need another keeper?”
John just shook his head in reply and kept chuckling softly as he pulled some bandage material out of his bag and applied a temporary bandage.
“So any new lines of inquiry?” John asked a few moments later as the two of them finished changing.
“A few, but nothing definitive. Need more data,” Sherlock answered.
“Alright then genius, let’s get you back to the flat. I’ll fix you up and you can sort out our next step,” John said, pulling Sherlock to his feet.
“Of course, dear husband. I am at your command,” Sherlock grinned and led the way out of the fitness center, John rushing behind him to grab their bags and keep up.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
FanFiction Writer Notes: For anyone confused by the title, the banns of marriage, commonly known simply as the "banns" or "bans" are the public announcement in the Church of England of an impending marriage between two specified persons. The purpose of banns is to enable anyone to raise any canonical or civil legal impediment to the marriage, so as to prevent marriages that are invalid. Mostly banns are just an announcement of an impending marriage to ones friends and neighbors. So in this case Sherlock and John have not posted Banns, so the blog post is sort of belated banns.
I want to thank all the great people who commented and read this story. I love hearing all your thoughts and comments. I’m honored to know people think I am on the right track with this story.
As I have said before I am a frighteningly slow writer, but I hope you will all hang in there with me as I am really enjoying finding out where this story is headed.
Once again I want to thank my wonderful Beta Ivory Winter who kindly let me bounce a very bad version of this chapter off her in order to fix it and make it a much better chapter. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.
I love constructive criticism, but no flames for the slash please. I love everything from grammar and spelling corrections, to your thoughts about whether or not John and Sherlock are in character.
Thanks,Rairakku
First Previous Next