Work Text:
WHIRLWIND ROMANCE
Mrs Hudson's living room is cozy and cluttered. Dust motes dance in the golden light that slants in through the windows.
He glances at the mantel, his gaze snagging on the framed photo in the place of honor over the fireplace.
It nearly takes his breath away. Christ, he wishes she'd taken it down.
He has his arm wrapped warmly around Sherlock's waist, in the photograph. They are pressed very close together, suits rumpled, hair mussed, slightly glassy-eyed. More than a little bit drunk. They are smiling. Real smiles, he thinks. They'd been caught in an unguarded moment just seconds after exchanging vows. There had been no posing, no preening. They had simply been laughing together, and kissing, and then they'd grinned at the camera.
What had he told Mary? That it had been just another Vegas sob story? A bad decision?
'Let's get married. I want to keep you.'
It had been a bad decision, but oh, fuck, he'd been happy.
He had. It is right there on display for all to see.
And Sherlock had been happy, too.
(excerpt from Whirlwind by DiscordantWords)