(A/N: Sorry for the long wait on an update, but I've been crazy busy with a lot of things going on. I'm also sorry this is rather short. There hasn't been much in the way of reviews on this, so I'm not sure if there's a preference for longer or shorter chapters for anyone who is actually reading this. Feedback would be nice. Perhaps reviews to know anyone IS actually reading this, and I'm not posting it for naught. ... Don't mind me being all down. My daughter left last week to spend the summer with family out of state, and she's never been away for so long. She's almost 14, and we're super close, so I'm a bit bummed out by that.)

Chapter 23 – Melody of Sentiment

The afternoon and early evening of the wedding flew by in a blur of photos, dancing, and light drinking around my parents' house and garden, a casual affair. A local restaurant had been booked for the rest of the evening for a more formal dinner reception, cake, and speeches.

Speeches.

John had insisted Aaron go first, and admittedly, I barely heard a thing Aaron said. All I could think about was what John would say. My best man speech hadn't exactly been flawless. I'd said some right horrible things, and though John considered me his best friend, I'd honestly spent more time being a right horrible person to him than I had been anyone worthy of such a friend.

And as John stood, champagne flute in hand, I took a deep breath, twisting my wedding band around my finger until Victoria took my hand. "No need to be anxious. He'll give a wonderful speech for you, just like you did for him," she whispered in my ear.

"That's what I'm afraid of," I mumbled under my breath.

"Round about two months ago, tables were turned, and as some of you may vividly recall, it was Sherlock standing beside me as he gave his best man speech at my wedding. I don't have a perfect memory, but I'm pretty sure it started along the lines of Sherlock stating how, in his opinion, weddings are nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in our ailing and morally compromised world. … I think I got that damn close, if not perfect."

John was far too close to perfect in his recall. I felt the sudden urge to crawl under the table, and only Victoria's tight grip on my hand prevented me from giving it more serious consideration.

"You see, Sherlock Holmes is my best friend and a very complicated man. He's baffled me and amazed me and frustrated me from the very first time we met. Yet since that time, I've come to believe in him." Smiling down at me, the warmth in John's eyes promised everything he would say would be alright. And I believed in him too.

"I believe he would do anything for the people he cares about. I believe you can't put limits on your expectations of him, because he'll always surprise you. And I believe he lied every time he claimed to be some sort of sociopath or said he thought caring was a mistake or sentiment was a defect; he lied because it was easier and safer than risking getting hurt like a normal human being. You see, Sherlock isn't a normal human being. He's absolutely brilliant. He has an extraordinary mind." John rested a hand on my shoulder, and added, "He's also far more loyal than he gives himself credit for."

"But what's brought us here tonight is the fact that within this complicated man is the heart of a lion, a heart which he kept locked in a cage and hidden deep down in the furthest reaches of himself. However, with much persistence, myself and a very few others managed to find it, slowly pick the lock, and somehow coax it out of its cage. We didn't really know what we'd done. We had no idea what we'd actually set loose." He laughed, as did Greg, Sally, and few others, though Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Mummy were already in tears.

"If you had told me the day I met Sherlock Holmes that befriending the cold bastard would mean eventually standing at his side as the most fiercely loving and devoted man I know married the love of his life, I wouldn't have believed a word of it. Yet I'm standing here today, having done just that. So now I offer up a toast to Sherlock and Victoria. I add your love to the list of what I believe in, may it flourish, and may your life together be prosperous." John raised his glass to the room before we all said 'cheers' and drank, Victoria's glass filled with sparkling water despite Mrs. Hudson's insistence that a little indulgence wouldn't hurt so early in the pregnancy. I wouldn't hear of it.

Standing to thank him for the fantastic job he'd done, I felt at a loss for words, more emotional than I expected, so I simply pulled him in for a hug, knowing John of all people wouldn't object.

"If you're looking for baby names… Hamish, after that fantastic bloke who gave the brilliant speech at your wedding."

I laughed. "John Hamish Watson is certainly a fantastic bloke, and that was one brilliant speech." The rest of the room had grown loud with celebration and conversation, leaving us a moment to talk. "Thank you, John, truly. Thank you for everything."

"It's nothing."

"But it isn't nothing. I wouldn't believe in me if it weren't for you, not like this. A wife, children, I wouldn't believe in this for me if it weren't for you, and that's certainly something to thank you for, John."

John shrugged, a small smile at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head. "All I've ever done is be your friend and do what friends do for each other."

"I know."

And to him that really was nothing, the idea of becoming friends with someone and that friendship growing to one in which you consider that person your best friend. Perhaps he would never fully understand I meant it when I told him I didn't have friends. I had people who held the various positions of importance in my life but no one I considered a friend, and no one I thought would consider me a friend.

Not until John came along and began to change the way I saw everything.

"You alright?"

"Yeah." I clapped John on the shoulder lightly, and we took our seats again. "I'm just feeling quite fortunate … perhaps a tad reminiscent."

"It's your wedding day, Sherlock. If you weren't feeling a bit emotional, I'd be worried."

I spotted Lucas coming over to me, and nodded. "Speaking of emotional, it appears to be time for a special gift I have planned for my wife."

Victoria turned from her conversation with Aaron and narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. "Did I just hear you mention me, and should I be worried?"

"Yes and not at all," I replied, kissing her softly before rising to meet Lucas as he approached with my violin case. "Thanks for your help."

"Anything for a friend, Sherlock."

Unlike my other friends, who became such over time without me quite realizing it, I could name the date when and location where my view of Lucas Fielding turned from mildly adversarial to outright friendship. June 22nd at Le Gavaroche, when my own brother and best friend judged me and didn't yet understand my happiness, Lucas did. Lucas didn't see me as a threat to his relationship with Victoria, didn't behave with petty jealousy. He welcomed me into her life and, by association, his as well.

And I returned the sentiment in kind.

With a smile and a nod, I dismissed him back to his seat, and as I opened the case to retrieve my violin and bow, all attention in the room turned to me, most of all, Victoria's. "That piece you've been composing…"

"Mhmm." I tucked the case under the table, out of the way then stood before our family and friends. "As Victoria has already surmised, I've been composing a piece for today. I suppose I could say it's been writing itself in my head since the day I first met her, which is why I decided to title it "Il Capitolo Di Apertura." For those of you who don't know Italian, it means "the opening chapter." I felt that was quite appropriate given that this is my way of telling the story of us, Victoria and I, a story we've only just begun writing."

And without further ado, I played the melody of sentiment wrought upon my life from the moment I laid eyes on the woman who was now my wife. From the initial piqued interest to the heart-racing attraction I didn't recognize for what it was to the sweetest taste of our first kiss to the melancholic pain felt when I feared she was in the arms of another man, each note carried emotions and moments, memories.

Never had I better understood how music could affect one so dramatically, move a person to tears or fill their heart with joy than when I closed my eyes and filled that room with the sounds of the tale I'd carefully written over the past few weeks and knew by heart. I knew the beautiful melody of the first time we made love, the sound of holding my breath while awaiting her answer when I proposed, each note of inexplicable joy felt to look at the small screen in Dr. Sange's office and see confirmation of the lives we'd created.

The end was soft yet lively, an ode to the romance of our wedding day, with the final note held until its sound faded away, a musical ellipses, waiting for the story to continue.

(A/N: One more note, the playlist for this story has been moved to my profile.)