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Sherlock was never the greatest fan of weddings. The few he'd been to in the past were all tedious, filled with annoying younger cousins asking him repetitive questions, nosey relatives inquiring about girlfriends and how he'd better get a move on, and, worst of all, always being put next to Mycroft at seating arrangements. Not to mention the obligatory photographs and wet-lipped old ladies kissing his cheek at any given moment.
If he was honest, Sherlock would say he loathed weddings.
But that didn't stop him going to John's wedding. He couldn't miss it, not after having left his best friend with the pretence of being buried six feet under and then waltzing back in, boyfriend in tow. Needless to say there was more than just the shock of a (well deserved) punch; Sherlock had also chosen that moment to reveal that oh yes, Greg was his boyfriend and had been so for the last four years. Oh, and he also knew that Sherlock wasn't dead.
It was alright though, because John hadn't been entirely alone. Along came Mary, pretty and loving and funny Mary with her thick honey-blonde hair and full pink lips and sweet-scented perfume. Mary, who was beautiful and smart and honest, and whom John entirely deserved. Sherlock and Mary hit it off from the very start, so it came as no surprise when they asked him to be the best man at their wedding. Sherlock accepted without hesitation.
The wedding ceremony came and went, complete with happy smiles, John's proud mother, and Mary's quietly weeping father. Sherlock watched as Mary was lead down the aisle, dressed in a beautiful ivory-laced dress and long veil, making her way to John who was dressed in a dashing charcoal grey suit and silk golden cravat. They looked like a right dapper pair up there, and Sherlock couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for his best friend. He'd done well for himself in Sherlock's absence, but Sherlock didn't have much time to dwell on that fact because suddenly a hand took hold of his own and squeezed. He squeezed right back.
It hadn't let go for the entire ceremony.
It wasn't until much later in the day after the meal, the speeches and the first dance, that Sherlock got the time to actually have a full conversation with Greg. The other guests at their table left to join the growing crowd on the dance floor. Sherlock gave a long sigh, a stretch, and loosened his tie. Greg reached over to brush some confetti (shaped as a wine glass) from his shoulder, laughing as two or three also fluttered down from his hair.
"Having a good time then, sunshine?"
"It's alright, I suppose." Sherlock replied. Anyone else would have thought he was being serious, but Greg knew him well enough to know what that little after smile meant.
"Yeah, it is a brilliant wedding. Mary looks stunning." Greg nodded toward the couple who were on the dance floor, laughing and twirling as they danced. Sherlock grinned as John bent down to pick Mary up bridal style (no pun intended) and spin her around.
"And John looks happy."
They chatted amongst themselves for a while, Greg having polished down two or three pints while Sherlock nursed a single measure of whiskey. He wasn't so much drinking it as stirring around the ice, too busy watching people dance to really care about the alcohol. Sherlock never did understand the joy people got from dancing for such a long time.
The music that had before been upbeat and fast changed then, switching to a soft and delicate number. People started to pair off gradually until the dance floor was filled with couples. Sherlock was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of Greg's chair scraping back and the man standing up.
"Do you want to dance with me?"
"Dance?" Sherlock looked up at him with raised eyebrows; he had expected Greg to ask Molly, or perhaps Mary. This, though, was something he hadn't expected.
"Yeah, that’s when two people move together rhythmically to the music. It’s quite fun."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "I know what dancing is, Lestrade."
"So, do you want to dance?"
"Why me?"
Greg shrugged at him and held out his hand. "Because I want to." He grinned and reached down, taking Sherlock's thinner hand in his own.
"Alright, I'll dance with you." Sherlock relented and allowed Greg to pull him up, smiling despite himself. "But just one, Greg. One dance and then we leave the dance floor. Deal?"
"Deal. Now c'mon." Greg led him to the floor. They twisted through the throng of people until they came to a clearing. It wasn't often that the couple displayed any form of affection since Sherlock's return when they made their relationship public, but it was better than none at all. Even if Sherlock would vehemently deny it, Greg knew better. He knew it in the way Sherlock's hand fit into his own, the way their eyes locked onto one another, and the way they swayed effortlessly together. It didn't matter that Sherlock didn't recognise the song or that the people around them (newlyweds included) began to give them their own space.
All that mattered in that moment was each other. Greg was warm and solid and comforting, and Sherlock leaned into him. He could feel the protective curl of Greg's arm around his back and smiled, resting his head on Greg's shoulder.
And they danced until they were the last ones there.
*
"What was that you said, Sherlock? 'One dance and then we leave the dance floor?'"
"Oh be quiet." Sherlock threw his jacket at Greg, who barked a laugh and dodged it.
"You're the one that shook on the deal."
"And you're the one who made the deal in the first place. I didn't see you hurrying to go back on it."
At that Sherlock shook his head and slipped his tie off. "Well..." He shrugged, moving around their hotel room. "Maybe I just wanted to humour you."
"Maybe." Greg agreed. "Or maybe I'm so good at dancing that you didn't want to leave." He waggled his eyebrows at Sherlock who, despite the fact he should have been annoyed, found himself laughing.
"Yes well don't get too used to that, Inspector."
Greg crossed the room until he was standing before Sherlock. He cupped his face gently in his hands and brought their lips together for a sweet, chaste kiss.
"Sure I won't, sunshine." Greg murmured against his lips. He kissed them once more, then his cheek, then his forehead. "Now try and get some sleep. There's plenty more dances to come in the future."