You angrily sipped your prosecco and looked around the room.
Everyone seemed to be so happy around each other, celebrating the wedding of one of your cousins.
The only one not really able to enjoy this event seemed to be you.
You’d left London after having a fight with your kind-of boyfriend Sherlock, who had rejected to come to Italy with you for this wedding.
So you were just sitting there, internally complaining about how bad the prosecco and how damn uncomfortable your dress was.
You had bought it thinking of Sherlock, and thinking of how for once, you wanted him to see or say that you’re beautiful.
For the first time in ages you actually did feel beautiful, in a long, blue satin dress that perfectly hugged your curves and matched your eyes.
At least you had stolen Sherlock’s credit card to buy it, well deservedly.
Some time later you were still sitting at your table, the only difference being that now, you had some of the wedding cake and some good whiskey.
You were just watching the newly wed couple dancing as someone sat down next to you.
It was the groom’s best man, you’d already seen him a few times before this wedding.
He looked good in his tux, the bow tie matching the flower decorations.
You turned your head to smile at him.
“Hi. Shouldn’t you be dancing with my cousin’s maid of honour?”
He chuckled and looked at Paola, your cousin’s best friend.
“I think I’d really like to dance with her, but-”
“I don’t speak a single word of Italian.”
You snorted out a laugh.
“Your best friend lives in Italy, has just married a half Italian woman, and you still don’t speak the language?”
The both of you laughed.
“Let me get the same desperate-wedding-emotions menu as you, I’ll be back in a minute.”
You watched him standing up and walking over to the bar to get some whiskey and additionally, a huge piece of cake.
“Why didn’t you just ask for the whole cake?”
You smirked at him before he could even sit down again.
Arthur faked a very startled expression.
“I could never do that!”
He gingerly placed his glass of whiskey and his cake on the table and took his seat next to you yet again.
You clicked glasses with each other and both took a big gulp of whiskey.
“So… this question probably is very inappropriate, regarding your mood, but… didn’t you have a boyfriend? That detective guy?”
You lifted an eyebrow and took another sip of whiskey.
You let the ‘p’ plop from your lips.
“The very nuclear bomb of boyfriends. He refused to come here with me, please don’t ask me why. I’m better off without a cocky man child insulting relatives here anyway.”
Arthur softly nudged your shoulder.
“Sorry to hear that.”
You shrugged it off, trying to hide the impact Sherlock’s actions had actually made on you.
“Ah, never mind. I’m already used to him behaving like that. It’s just how he is. But deep down he’s a good guy, putting up with his bullshit is worth it most of the time. Once he’s let down his guards… god, he’s wonderful.”
After realising what you’d just said, you put your head in your hands and groaned in annoyance.
“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to hear that. You should be dancing with the maid of honour and hooking up with her right now, just how the tradition is.”
He closed his eyes and laughed quietly.
“You surely are, something, (Y/N).”
You almost frowned.
This just had sounded nothing like the usually so sassy and flirty Arthur.
Still, you managed a light smile.
“Thanks. I guess.”
“No problem. You just look like you could use some compliments right now and making them isn’t really hard to be honest. This dress suits you amazing.”
Now, you had to actually laugh, playfully punching his upper arm.
“Careful, you’re gonna make me blush.”
“Which, of course, would be a catastrophe. Wanna dance?”
The first song you danced to had been Come on Eyleen, after which you were completely out of breath.
How convenient that the DJ chose to play a slow song now.
Can’t help falling in love with you.
Already the first notes made you feel all sappy, your anger over Sherlock seemed to have been replaced by sheer sadness.
You didn’t want this to be the end.
Arthur already wanted to place a hand on your waist as a very familiar voice behind you made shivers run down your spine.
“This is my favourite human. Don’t touch.”
You widened your eyes and turned around.
There he was, your idiotic, oblivious boyfriend, looking way too beautiful in the tux you’d bought for him.
The groom’s best man whispered a quick ‘good luck’ in your ear and discretely disappeared in the crowd of dancing people.
You wanted to scream at him, throw the words at his head, make him regret his words, but for some reason you couldn’t open your mouth.
So you were just standing there kind of awkwardly, giving the detective your best I’m-gonna-kill-you-gaze.
“Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”
You almost choked on your own saliva.
“You. Me. Dance. That’t what people normally do on weddings, right?”
You closed your eyes and shook your head.
“You’re impossible, Sherlock.”
He smiled softly and actually looked kind of regretful.
“I know. I should’ve come with you from the start. Because without you, I’m a mess. Every time I’m not close to you I just feel so lost, and it took me a while to realise that this feeling wasn’t going to fade. If lying to myself any longer equals losing you, I don’t want to do it. So what do you think- you and I against the rest of the world once more?”
You blinked the tears away and lifted your head a bit.
“I think it’s time you start calling me babe.”
You bit you lower lip and snaked your arms around the detective’s neck.
“Just kidding. That was my way of saying yes.”
He chuckled and looked at you in awe for a moment before connecting his lips to yours.
“You look very beautiful, by the way.”, Sherlock whispered after breaking away.