So I had this quick little ficlet pop in my head:<\/p>\n
John stumbled as they were pushed into the small cell to sleep it off. Sherlock mumbled a deduction at the cop that was closing the door, then all but threw himself down on the tiny bunk and almost immediately started snoring. Prat<\/i>.<\/p>\n
With a sigh, John sunk to a seat, leaning against the bunk. Sherlock\u2019s hand was hanging down and he looked at those elegant fingers. I don\u2019t mind<\/i>, he\u2019d said. And then they\u2019d been interrupted. Bugger<\/i>.<\/p>\n
With a thunk, John tipped his head back against the wall. Stupid<\/i>. He was getting married tomorrow. To a very nice woman that hadn\u2019t faked her death for two years. Who hadn\u2019t left him grieving in silence. Wanker<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Sighing, John ran his fingers along Sherlock\u2019s, just feeling the bones. The skin was rougher than it had been two years ago. The detective had been through some things, John could see that much. Not that Sherlock would tell him anything of course. Twat<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m getting married tomorrow,\u201d he said out loud. Mumbled. Leaning forward he rest his forehead against the back of Sherlock\u2019s hand. \u201cShould be getting married to you.\u201d Sodding hell<\/i>.<\/p>\n
It was true, he knew it in his heart even if he couldn\u2019t say it aloud. He\u2019d loved Sherlock Holmes for a very long time. He\u2019d mourned him harder than he\u2019d ever mourned anyone. Tried to crawl into a bottle for a time, something he\u2019d always swore he\u2019d never do. But Sherlock had driven him to it. Cock<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Pulling back a bit, John made sure he was still snoring, sound echoing around them. He dropped his head and kissed the back of his hand, then leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. Morning would be here and with it a wicked hangover. Then the wedding and whatever the hell Sherlock <\/p>\n
was \u00a0going to say in his best man speech. Probably read straight from his blog or something. Arse<\/i>.<\/p>\n
John closed his eyes and felt gravity pulling him downward. One hand reached over to entwine his fingers with Sherlock\u2019s, though he\u2019d never admit it. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and Sherlock never did make it easier. Bastard<\/i>.<\/p>\n