A/N Okay...This one started funny and cute but got a little sappy at the end. I struggled with anxiety attacks when I got married and I kind of figured Sherlock might suffer from them once in a while to. TRIGGER WARNING!!! Mentions of suicide attempts. Also Mary and Rosie are both dead in this one, but that isn't hugely relevant. Enjoy <3

"Absolutely not."

"But John-"

"No Sherlock, you can choose literally anyone else to be your Best Man."

"But John-"

"Sherlock, I'm not discussing it any further. I will not go through with this wedding if you ask Irene Adler to be your Best Man." John's tone left no room for argument, so Sherlock let out a childish huff and slouched in his chair. He ran through every possible way he could convince his fiancé to allow him to ask The Woman to stand up with him.

"I'll do that thing you like-"

"Sherlock!"

"Fine!" He thought for a moment, bouncing his knee a few times. "I will stop asking if you at least let me invite her." He heard John's exasperated sigh and could almost see him rubbing his hands over his face.

"Fine, you can invite her, but if she doesn't behave I swear to God-"

"Yes, yes, I know, you will kill her slowly and painfully." Sherlock grinned and leapt from his chair, practically running to his future husband, taking his face in his hands and kissing him deeply. "I may be persuaded to do that thing you like just because you said yes to her coming." He whispered against the shorter man's lips.

"Oh, you are a bad man Mr. Holmes." John growled in response, pulling him close and latching on to his neck. Sherlock chuckled and pushed his lover away gently.

"Not now Love, we have a wedding to plan and a bridal party to hash out." John let out a desperate little whine at this, but let Sherlock go, realizing that he would get nowhere with a distracted Sherlock. "Can you still call it a Best Man if they are a woman?"

"I suppose you could just go with Maid of Honor then."

"I prefer Best Man."

"Then go with that. Who are you thinking of now?"

"Molly Hooper."

"Do you really think she would want to be your Best Man after everything?"

"I hope so, its either her or Mycroft." He spat his brothers name, causing John to giggle in that way he fell in love with all those years back. "Besides, I do believe it is customary for the Best Man to hook up with at least one of the Bridesmaids. So, if one of your friends is single and worthy of Molly's night, I can lure her in with the promise of sex."

"Sherlock."

"What?"

"Not good."

"Oh, logical though?"

"Yes, it's logical, but don't tell her that is your plan." Sherlock nodded and pulled out his cell phone, planning on shooting her a text about this. "Don't ask her over text, go down to the morgue and ask her in person."

"Why?"

"It's an important question."

"One that is best discussed over a decaying corpse?"

"In Molly Hooper's case, yes."

"Fine. I will be back." Sherlock stood, pressing a soft kiss to John's lips, nearly having to force the blogger off him when he started to get hands-y. He grabbed his coat and scarf and bounded from the flat, already trying to formulate the best way to ask his question.

When he arrived at the morgue, he found that his nerves were higher than expected. He hadn't stopped thinking about John's words about how she may say no because of his history with her. He found her working at a computer in the lab.

"Hello Miss Hooper."

"Sherlock, I didn't know you were coming today. I-I don't have anything for you-"

"That is not why I am here."

"Oh, then why are you here? Did you and John have another fight?" Sherlock felt his cheeks flush, it was truly embarrassing how many times he had come to the young woman for advice when he had said or done something stupid.

"No, No, everything is fine. I-I just- I have a- I w-was-" He huffed in frustration and placed the bottle of her favorite wine that he had picked up on his way, on the counter before her. She looked at it in confusion, clearly not understanding what the gesture meant. "I read somewhere that purchasing a bottle of alcohol is customary when asking such things. Not that I want you to feel pressured into saying yes, I just want you to know that I care about you and it would mean a lot to me. If you think it's a bad idea because of your past feelings for me I completely understand." He knew he was babbling, not even sure if he was making sense at this point.

"Sherlock?" He stopped talking, finally taking a breath and noting the tears in her eyes and the smile on her face. "Are you trying to ask me to be a Bridesmaid?"

"No." He saw her shoulders fall and struggled to rectify the situation. "I-I want you t-to be my- my Best Man." His voice went a little timid at the end, and he ducked his head, hoping to hide the blush that was taking over his cheeks. He felt himself being pulled into a tight hug and responded immediately, holding her close and chuckling against her hair.

"Of course, I will be your Best Man Sherlock. I am so happy for both of you. Were you really that nervous about asking me?" They pulled apart, grinning at each other.

"John mentioned that after everything that has happened you may be hesitant to agree."

"Are you kidding? This means that I am your best friend, something that I never thought would ever happen for either of us."

"Molly Hooper, you have been one of my best friends for years."

"I thought John is your best friend?"

"Well, technically he is, but he currently isn't available on that date."

"You don't say?"

"Yeah, I think he said something about a wedding." The pair chuckled for a while, enjoying the newfound element to their relationship. "So, since we are now aware that we are best friends, does that mean we can discuss sex openly?" The bluntness of his question caused the woman to choke on her breath.

"Yes," she rasped, once regaining her composure. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Good, which gender do you tend to hook up with more at weddings?"

"Sherlock!"

"Oh, please, did you really not think I would see the way you look at Donovan and Miss Jones from legal?"

"Fine, usually guys. I haven't been with a woman yet. I just appreciate them from afar."

"Fair enough." He winked as he pushed off the counter, starting to walk towards the door. "I will inform John to ensure there is at least one single of each gender that would be suited for you at the wedding."

"Sherlock Holmes!"

"What, is that not what friends do, be each other's Wing Man or whatnot?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't worry Miss Hooper, you are in good hands." He winked again as he left, chuckling at the expression he glimpsed on her face. He made his way home, a pleased smile pulling at his lips the entire way.

When he arrived, he found his fiancé in the kitchen, propped against the counter. He was making tea, already readying Sherlock's own mug for him. John was reading from a large, hardcover book and had changed into his pajamas. He looked cozy and content, and Sherlock felt his chest swell at the domestic sight before him. He walked up to John just as the shorter man tuned around to pour the water for the tea. Sherlock placed his hands on his fiancé's hips, pulling him close and nuzzling against his neck.

"Hmm, you're back." John sounded sleepy as he leaned back against Sherlock. The taller man hummed his response and continued pressing soft kisses to the tan skin. "What did she say?"

"She said yes, and cried."

"Good." John turned in Sherlock's arms and kissed him, a slow, lazy kiss that left the detective a little weak in the knees. "I'm tired, will you come lie down with me Love?" John mumbled against Sherlock's lips. He nodded and allowed John to drag him to their bedroom. Sherlock stripped down to his pants and climbed in bed with his sleepy lover.

As they lie there, Sherlock thought over the past years, how close he came to losing John after Mary and Rosie died, and how close he had come to losing himself when John was hospitalized after a bad night.

He pried himself from the tired man's arms and began pressing soft kisses across his chest and wrists. He kissed at the wound on his shoulder, something he often found himself doing when he lost himself in thoughts of the man he loved so much. The poorly healed skin reminded him of the strength of his lover, how he had fought in the war and walked away. He kissed the pairs of scars on both of his strong wrists, unable to contain the tears that fell when he remembered the day he found John, bleeding on the floor, drunk out of his skull.

"Sherlock?" John's sleep filled voice came from above his head. His skin had become sensitive around the veins on his wrists since the scars healed, so Sherlock's kisses must have woken him up. "What's wrong love?" He pulled his wrist from Sherlock's grasp and placed his hands on his cheeks, wiping away the tears and pulling him up for a kiss.

"I love you." Sherlock whispered, his breath stuttering under the emotions.

"I love you to Sweetheart." John kept pressing tender kisses over Sherlock's face, kissing away the tears as they fell. "I'm here Love, just breathe." He whispered between kisses. This wasn't the first time this had happened, Sherlock following those painful rabbit holes in his own mind, leaving his heart hurting and brain working too fast. John knew what he needed, he always knew. Sherlock felt the older man shift so he was lying on his back, signaling for Sherlock to curl up against him.

Sherlock fell asleep to the strong, steady beat of his lover's heart. He was there, he was alive, and everything was going to be fine.