AN: Epilogue time! It wasn't planned, but the story said it wasn't finished without one. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing here that you may recognize, and I am very sad about that.

Mycroft Holmes had never liked John Watson, not one bit.

It was nothing personal, mind you, it was just simply the company the doctor chose to keep- not to mention the obsession his baby brother had developed for the man within minuets of having met him.

Perhaps if the doctor had met Sherlock first things would be different, but they had to live in the world they had so there was no use wasting time on 'could have beens'.

Entering his office, resigned to meeting with who he knew was waiting for him there, Mycroft plastered on his fakest smile as he moved to his chair and greeted the doctor with all the warmth of a spitting cobra- or an overly protective older brother.

"Dr. Watson- sorry, it's Dr. Watson-Moriarty now, isn't it?- what a surprise to see you here; I was under the impression you were to be on a cruise experiencing connubial bliss this morning, not staked out in my office like an overly friendly assassin." John smirked into his tea- Mycroft's assistant really did make quite a good cuppa- before fishing a memory stick from his pocket and laying it on the expanse of desk between them.

"As I'm sure you are quite aware: Sherlock followed me onboard and is now stranded in a luxurious suite out at sea, and Jim is still knocked out from whatever it was Sherlock fed him." He indicates the small storage device resting on the desk.

"This is my attempt at bribing you into not interfering with Sherlock's punishment for his part in ruining my wedding, and into leaving Jim alone when he panics and heads for the ship while thinking I'm actually the one on it." Raising a brow- the only outward sign of the intrigue he was feeling- Mycroft picked up the memory stick and plugged it into the secured computer on his desk.

He pulled up the single file on it and hit play.

There was a tugging at the corner of Mycroft's lips when he saw his little brother trying to win a dance off while drunk, it was suppressed and ignored.

A suspicious bubbling in his throat was harder to tamp down as Sherlock went careening into the wedding cake.

But when he heard his confident and unflappable terror of a brother whining about how he tasted of cake and was gong to get eaten he finally lost control.

For the first time in twenty years Mycroft Holmes let out a genuine chortle of real humor while in the presence of another- that was going on his phone as an alert whenever Sherlock bothered him, he could always use a pick-me-up at those times.

Gaining control of himself quickly, the 'minor' government employee turned to the patiently waiting man that had had his honeymoon put on hold and asked the question that was uppermost on his mind.

"Do you have this in any other angles? Mumsy does so like multiple angles in her home movies." Handing over two more memory sticks before exiting with an unspoken assurance that his plans for the day would not be interfered with, John smiled down at his phone just as a text came in from Seb. He'd gotten that taken care of just in time.

Inside the security of his office, Mycroft Holmes- a man many of his employees thought had no emotion save snobbish- muffled his laughter in his hankie as he watched the two videos.

The first was a second camera's angle on the events of the night before and was set aside.

The second- the one that had started him laughing- showed the hours after the happy couple had left and Sherlock's attempts to make himself taste as unappealing as possible. His favorite part was when Sherlock broke into the grounds keepers shed and started rubbing cow manure all over himself.

Mumsy was going to love this so much she may even finally forgive him for letting her baby get close to Moriarty in the first place.

Perhaps John Watson wasn't such a bad fellow after all, he mused. At least when he wasn't surrounded by mad geniuses, he amended.


John stood in the doorway of the honeymoon suite and watched, highly amused, as Jim tried to oust Sherlock from their rooms.

"He's my husband, not yours, so shift your arse and get a move on!" Sherlock was as cool as anything as he very pointedly did not move.

"You and John will not be engaging in bed sport the entire time we are at sea- it is physically impossible to do so- so I reserve the right, as his friend, to call on John's time whenever he is not servicing your physical desires." Stepping in at this point to save Sherlock from a suddenly murderous Jim- though, considering that 'servicing' comment, John was hard pressed not to let Jim get a few good licks in- John took over the conversation.

"Sherlock, you watched the video from the wedding that I sent you, correct?" A wary nod.

"Good. Because if you don't shift your arse back to London this minute Seb will have sent a copy of it to every member of Scotland Yard by morning!" Sherlock moved so fast he should have left a dust trail.

Jim turned to his husband with wide eyes.

"Have I told you recently just how much I love you?"

"No, but you can start making it up to me by locking the door and helping me slip into something a little more... comfortable." The door slammed so hard it wedged and then buttons went flying to every corner of the room.


"Oh yes, Jim. Just a bit lower. Right there! Ohhhh... yes..." John was in heaven as Jim used his magic fingers to loosen every tense muscle in his aching body.

After five rounds of vigorous sex John was surprised either of them were still conscious let alone able to give or receive a message.

Their first round of incredible post-nuptial physicality had been chaotic, all grabbing and tearing off of clothes and needing each other so bad that neither lasted more than a few minutes.

The second had been slow, so slow John had felt he would die if Jim didn't hurry it along, but it had been beautiful; and when John came without Jim once having touched him it was down right magical.

Their third was accidental, and was simply due to them not being able to let go of each other, they couldn't stop kissing and touching and one thing had led to another as it usually does.

Round four was perfectly planned out by Jim, it commenced once his order of chocolate covered strawberries and champagne arrived, and John knew he'd never look at a simple piece of fruit the same way again.

Big number five was all John though, involving silk restraints and a blindfold, and had had the unfortunate side effect of cramping the good doctor's back up something fierce; which led them to where they were now.

"Some way to start a honeymoon." John chuckled out before moaning as Jim hit a particularly bunched up set of muscles.

"I don't know, I think we're doing alright. After all: it's our honeymoon and as long as we're happy with it then no one else's opinion matters."

"Yeah, you're right. Like usual."

"Of course I am! Besides, we've only just begun and we still have several weeks and an entire cruise through the Mediterranean to go! And I don't plan to let you out of this room before we've rounded Spain, so don't worry about catching up on what we've missed." John buried his face in a pillow to hide his flaming blush.

"My husband plans on killing me with sex less than a week after our wedding!" Was his muffled complaint, though it was off set by his laughter.

Jim answered this tease by biting one John's exposed cheeks.

"Jim!" Gasped John as he reared up and turned to his smirking husband.

"Come on, Johnny-boy, you know it's the way you want to go." Swallowing any further comment John might have wanted to make with a deep, tongue filled kiss, Jim set to work on starting round number six.


Back in London a very put out Sherlock Holmes was sitting in his brother's flat and having tea with dear old Mumsy.

"It was just the cutest thing I have seen you do since you were five years old and running naked through the garden. You simply must come to your dear cousin's next wedding and teach everyone that one dance you were doing- What was it called again, Mycy dear?"

"The 'Electric Slide', I do believe." The glare Sherlock sent his older brother could strip paint. How dare he show that video to their mother! That was just being petty.

"Ah yes, of course, curious name; but then again it is American. So what do you say, Sherlock dear?" Preparing to say something scathing concerning his cousin, dancing in general and interfering older brothers; Sherlock was cut off as Mycroft's phone began to ring with a new and never before heard ringtone.

"I'm cake now! Mycroft's going to eat me! I'm too delicious to get eaten!" Sherlock stared horrified at his brother as he took the call and wandered off.

"I'm so glad to see Mycy is still taking an interest in what you do, Sherlock, and turning it into such a lovely melody for his phone too. I wonder if he'd be willing to send me a copy of it?" At a complete loss for words, and completely flabbergasted as to how simple John Watson had managed to so thoroughly stitch him up, Sherlock sipped his tea and began planning his revenge.

But first he would need to destroy every copy of that damnable recording that there was!