It had been 5 long years since Sherlock Holmes didn't die.

As sat in the living room of 221b Baker Street in his brand new, expensive (Westwood) suit, Sherlock considered how even though he didn't believe in luck, any ordinary person would say he was very lucky indeed.

Lucky to have survived the fall in the first place, for one. Obviously he had it all planned out and he hadn't risked his life too much, however even not many clever people could say they had fallen off of a building and lived to tell the tale. Then again not many clever people had surprisingly un-idiotic morticians to give their assistance in fake autopsy reports either. Sherlock didn't have many regrets from throughout his life (Seven, to be precise), and two of those involved Molly. The first being his correct but cruel deduction however many Christmas's ago, and the second was again his cruelty in the form of almost ruining her marriage not so long ago. Again, another argument of his apparent 'luck' in her willingness to forgive him on both accounts. Sherlock was not particularly skilled on a social level, but even he knew that he had stepped outside the boundaries of a friendship, and that she would have had every right to hate him for the rest of her life.

And they were friends, now. It had taken a while but Sherlock had gotten used to the term, although he still refused to refer to Mycroft as anything other than an enemy. And then there was John, his best friend, despite everything. However, it had taken until only hours before to make the doctor fully forgive him.

John moved back into 221b Baker Street days after they started speaking again. And it was almost as if nothing had happened. They took cases, they fought, John made tea and Sherlock kept heads in the fridge… The only thing that was different was a small, nagging feeling Sherlock could not shake off. After some internet research and a rather painful 'chat' with Lestrade, Sherlock named the feeling guilt. Because John had been happy, before. And while he was fine, he was no longer happy. And Sherlock knew his own part in this, and knew he needed to fix it.

Two months after John had moved back to Baker Street, he and Sherlock were sitting in their living room, both reading, when Sherlock decided it was time.

'John?'

'Yes?'

'Why haven't you rekindled your romantic attachment to Molly?'

Soon after John had started speaking to Sherlock again, he had announced one night that he was meeting Molly for a 'talk'. Four hours and thirty seven minutes later he had returned, looking exhausted, and had gone straight to bed. The next day while on a visit to Bart's, Sherlock had assumed that Molly and John would take this time to inform him they were in a romantic relationship once more. However, he was in this case, wrong. In fact, it became obvious that not only were John and Molly not informing him of a relationship, that there was in fact none to inform him about. Of course they were still legally married, but they treated each other as no more than friends. This had puzzled Sherlock, and unable to find out the answer on his own, he simply asked.

'What do you mean, Sherlock?'

'Molly and yourself were previously in a romantic relationship. You broke off that relationship when you felt she had betrayed you. You obviously no longer have any of those negative feelings due to your relaxed body language when around her, so why have you not rekindled your previous relationship?'

John sighed as if he was dreading whatever he was going to have to do next, and set his book down on the table, avoiding the pool off acid which Sherlock had still not cleaned up.

'Sherlock, it is fairly obvious that you have made an attachment to me that goes beyond friendship.'

Sherlock was confused, a feeling he did not appreciate.

'Yes, John, since I have stated this myself it is obvious. However, you do not share those feelings.'

It wasn't a question, they both knew the answer.

'No, Sherlock, I do not. But I do care about you, and neither Molly nor I want to… We don't want to hurt your feelings, Sherlock. So we decided between us that we were happy being friends, and therefore not reforming our previous relationship and hopefully we can all just go back to being normal. Well, what's normal for us!'

John gave out a half-hearted laugh, one that Sherlock did not respond to.

'But you want to be together? Therefore being apart is causing you both emotional pain?'

'…yes, in some form. But we can cope with it, for your sake. You aren't used to these kinds of emotions, and you've already shown you can't handle them.'

Sherlock sat bold upright, making a sudden realisation. The three years he was away all he had worried about was that pretty much the only two people he really, honestly cared about would stop caring about him, that they would just leave him. But now both of them had agreed to put their own feelings aside, even after all he had done, just to try and protect him.

It had taken a few days, but Sherlock had eventually managed to convince John he was fine with he and Molly getting back together. More than fine, actually. He insisted on it. John moved back into Molly's flat, but he would pop over to Baker Street at least once a week, and still went along on any cases that were more than an eight. However, Sherlock knew John still had not fully forgiven him. He knew that between the laughs and the cases, John was still disappointed and hurt by Sherlock's actions. And while he understood, this was not acceptable. He needed to do something completely and utterly selfless to finally make up for all his selfishness in the past.

Three weeks, four days and two hundred and twenty three Google searches later, Sherlock solved the case. Unfortunately, the solution involved Mycroft.

'Brother dear, please don't tell me you've phoned just for a chat? While I'm glad you've realised you do have some emotions after all, I really don't have the time…'

'Oh do shut up Mycroft. I need a favour. And considering your part in my sort of death, you must grant me it'.

'I thought we put our differences aside after all my favours in keeping you sort of dead?'

'This isn't for me, Mycroft. This is for John.'

After a rather unpleasant hour on the phone, the plans were set in motion. While he hated to admit it, Sherlock was extremely grateful to have Mycroft as a brother. Not only had he managed to secure the safety of Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly and John, he was also the sole reason Sherlock's plans had been able to be set in motion at all.

After all, Sherlock was never much of an event planner…

Another bit of 'luck', he considered, as he picked up his violin, letting out a few chords while he waited. He had worried the flat would seemed all too empty without John. But while he had physically left, along with a majority of his belongings, Sherlock noticed that it felt as if he was still there. And of course, at this moment in time, he was.

'Sherlock? Is that you?'

John called out from the bathroom, sounding irritated already. He hated surprises just as much as Sherlock did, and even John's deductions were no match for the two Holmes brothers.

'Of course it's me, who else would it be?'

'I don't know, a murderer, perhaps? A mad man that wants to skin you and make you into shoes? It is your flat Sherlock, I never know what to expect.'

John stepped out of the bathroom wearing a suit identical to Sherlock's (Not in size, obviously) and looking indeed very irritated.

'Are you ready then?'

'I would be if I knew where the hell we were going!'

'Well, we better leave so we can get there so you can find out!'

And with that Sherlock practically galloped out of the flat (This was rather fun, this whole surprise thing.) with John trotting miserably behind him.

One of Mycroft's cars was already waiting for them, and with the sight of it John let out another sigh.

'Really, Mycroft too? It's bad enough Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and Molly are all in on it, but your brother?'

Sherlock just smirked as they drove away from Baker Street, while John made another realisation.

'Blacked out windows? Really? Am I being taken to be beheaded or something?'

'Of course not, John. If I was going to have to beheaded I would have it done in my own flat – the experiments work best if the body is as fresh as possible.'

With that both men stayed comfortably quiet for the rest of the journey. Twenty minutes later the black car slowed to a stop, making the Doctor turn anxiously to the Detective, eager to get whatever Sherlock had been planning over and done with.

'So, are you going to tell me where we are or do I have to put a bag over my head now?'

'We're at a church.'

Now John was confused.

'A church? Why on earth… You don't believe in anything religious, we have no reason to be…'

'While yes, you are correct, I do not believe in anything to do with religion, Molly and yourself both have your own tenuous links and a church is the most common place for a wedding so therefore…'

'Wait, what? A wedding? Who's getting married?'

'You are.'

Sherlock smiled gently, only irritating John further.

'What? Sherlock, I'm already married, I can't marry again…'

'No, but I have heard from certain unnamed sources that couples can renew their vows due to a number of reasons, such as them spending a period of time apart or just to 'celebrate their love', apparently. And since you rudely excluded me from your first wedding, I felt it necessary to organise a second where the best man could actually be present.'

After a few minutes of utter shock, John choked out a reply.

'You… organised for me and Molly to… renew our vows?'

'Well, unfortunately I have to give Mycroft's minions a lot of the credit, plus Mrs Hudson for all the food and Lestrade with contacting your friends and family…'

'…but it was your idea?'

'Well no, people have been renewing their vows for…'

The detective was yet again cut off, something which he would usually not tolerate, but the hug the Doctor gave him came as such a relief he decided to let it slide.

'Well, hurry up John. Your wife is waiting for you…'

As Sherlock went to get out of the car, he felt a hand pull him back to the seat.

'Thank you, Sherlock.'

While this was something John had said a number of times before, the Doctor not having the same dislike of social pleasantries as he did, the deductive knew that these words meant a lot more than that.

'You are very welcome, John. But please do get a move on; I'm given to understand it's a little rude to be late to your own celebration'.

Yes, it had been a long, difficult five years since Sherlock Holmes didn't die. However, if his deductions were correct, and they usually were, things were going to be just fine between the detective and his blogger.

Author's note: And there we have it! I do love a happy ending :) I just wanted to say another HUGE thank you to everyone who has read, alerted, favorited and reviewed this story! I was a little nervous, given this was my first fan fiction in over three years, and you guys have made it so worth while! But I do love these character's way to much t stop writing for them, so I do of course have other Sherlock fan fics on the go as well!

Thank you again for reading!