Chapter Text
"Thank you, Sheriff Watson. I can't begin to express my gratitude towards you." Mycroft said, clasping John's hand.
They stood in his study. Nearby, Sherlock sat in a chair while Doc Miller examined his cuts and bruises.
"I couldn't stand by while Sherlock was hurt," John said, staring intently at Mycroft. "I hope you'll understand why I felt I needed to resort to violence to end it."
"I spoke briefly with Sherlock when you arrived. He's explained everything. I've sent my men to collect the bodies, though I doubt there are any next of kin to pay for a funeral. Mrs. Moran's aunt was found and the children appear safe and sound. Her aunt seems to be cut of entirely different cloth than Mrs. Moran and I daresay the children will be better off under her care."
John nodded, unsure of what to say.
"You'll be commended, of course," Mycroft continued. "I think I can find some sort of award to give you. Perhaps at this year's Independence Day celebration."
"Oh, err...." John flushed. "I don't think that's necessary...."
"Nonsense. I'll have my secretary make a note of it so that I don't forget."
Mycroft turned to Sherlock and the doctor. "Dr. Miller? Everything sound?"
Doc Miller smiled as he put away his things. "A-yup. Superficial bumps and bruises, a few scratches. Nothing that won't heal. Your brother's a lucky man."
"I told you I was fine," Sherlock snapped at Mycroft and stood up, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. "I might remind you that there's still unfinished business to discuss."
"Sherlock, not now." John said, softly.
Sherlock turned to John and glared. "Yes, now, John. If my brother hadn't been such a stubborn jackanape, I'd not have reason to be where I was when Moran took me."
"I merely want to look after your---" Mycroft began, before Sherlock raised his voice and interrupted.
"I know what you 'merely' want to do, Mycroft, but I think you'll find that I am an adult and fully capable of taking care of myself as well as making decisions for myself. John is my... well, he's a very close friend, and I won't allow you to keep me from him."
John felt his face grow hot as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Meanwhile, Doc Miller watched the exchange, open-mouthed, his doctor's bag forgotten at his feet.
"What, pray tell, do you think your new fiancé will say about that?" Mycroft hissed, stepping up to his brother so that they were nose to nose.
"Why don't you ask her when she arrives?" Sherlock spat. "She is, after all, a woman with her own mind and opinions."
"Sir, if I may speak?" John interjected, hoping to cool the argument. When Sherlock moved to protest, he silenced him with a raised finger. "I understand you're concerned about your brother. I do. I respect that. But it's true, what Sherlock said - he's a very dear friend. We've found common ground, you see. I ask you to let him make up his own mind about what he wants to do. I think if you place a small amount of trust in him, he might surprise you with his resourcefulness."
Sherlock dipped his head, a small smile curling his lips, at John's words. Mycroft studied them both before sighing deeply.
"I find myself outvoted," he said, defeated. "I'll warn you both now to be cautious, no matter what you do. There is nothing this town enjoys more than wagging their tongues and spreading gossip."
"We'll be careful," John said. "And I'm sure the good doctor will keep this confidential, as well?"
Mycroft and Sherlock turned, surprised, having forgotten that Doc Miller listened in on their conversation. The old man's face reddened and he fumbled to pick up his bag before standing up.
"I must be going," he said. "Don't have a clue what you're all talking about and it's none of my never mind, as it is."
Mycroft left to walk the doctor out and John turned to Sherlock. He crossed the study and took Sherlock's hand in his.
"Are you really all right?" He asked, studying Sherlock's face. "It's been a long couple of days for you."
"I'm fine, John," Sherlock said, kissing John's knuckles. "And we're fine. I can't wait for you to meet Molly."
"I hope this goes as you think it will," John cautioned.
"It will. I know it will!" Sherlock grinned.
They had a few minutes longer before Mycroft returned, carefully averting his eyes when he saw Sherlock and John standing closely together. He cleared his throat and Sherlock reluctantly let go of John's hand.
"Sheriff, it's been a long night for you. Perhaps you should spend the day at home, resting?" Mycroft asked, pointedly.
Sherlock tried to argue, but John silenced him again, this time with a look. "You're right, Mayor. I'm exhausted and I'm sure Sherlock is, as well. I'll bid you both a good day, shall I? Sherlock, I'll speak with you on the morrow, I'm sure."
Saying his good bye, John left for his cabin, his eyes heavy and his body aching from the previous night. When he was back in his cabin and dozing off in his bed, his head filled with memories of Sherlock rather than the nightmares that usually surfaced in his dreams.
Convincing Mycroft Holmes to change his mind proved a simple task compared to changing the minds of the townspeople of Lockwood. Over the next week, John found himself shunned by everyone except the residents of Holmes' Ranch. His job became a difficult and unpleasant one because of the hostility he encountered. He wasn't the only one, either. Sherlock reported that half his students no longer attended school and when he attempted to visit parents, he wasn't allowed in their houses. At Sunday service, they both noticed glares and whispers whenever they passed by. John grew angrier and angrier as each day passed this way.
"It's not fair to you!" He cried. They were at the lakeside; Sherlock sat, back against a tree, sketching John in his journal while John stretched out near the lake and skimmed rocks over its surface. "I never meant them to be unkind to you!"
"It's all right," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "What do I care what they think? They've always thought me odd."
"But your students!"
"In truth, I am sad that so many children are missing out on an education because of their parents' ignorance. But I cannot force them to bend to my thinking. I can only teach the children who still remain and hope that I make a difference in their lives."
"I should just go," John said sorrowfully. "I could leave and things would go back to normal. Maybe go further West, to California. I hear they need laborers on the docks."
"You'll do nothing of the sort!" Sherlock burst out. "I won't allow it! John, do you know what I'd be without you? Nothing!"
"You know I feel the same about you," John insisted. "But I don't want to make life harder than it already is."
"I'd rather endure the ridicule of strangers than live with only half of my soul." Sherlock said, scooting closer to John and brushing a hand softly against his cheek. "I love you, John."
John felt his breath snatched away with those words. He pressed a hand over Sherlock's hand at his cheek, turning and pressing his lips against Sherlock's fingers. "I love you, too," he whispered. "Isn't it ridiculous? To love someone so quickly?"
"No, I don't think it's ridiculous at all," laughed Sherlock. "I think it's fate. I knew your heart the moment we met, just as you knew mine."
John let their argument drop as Sherlock abandoned his drawing to kiss him senseless, nearly toppling them both into the lake.
They had two perfect weeks with each other. They stole moments together in between working - afternoons at the lake, evening strolls around the ranch, and time alone in John's cabin. Sherlock acted as though he were a starving man presented with a feast each time he found himself alone with John, and John was happy to act as the main course. They grew familiar with each other's bodies, finding that they slotted together easily, like a lock and its matching key.
But John knew it could only last so long. Two weeks after he and Sherlock first coupled together, Mrs. Caroline Hooper and her daughter, Molly, arrived on the train. John wasn't there when they arrived, but one of Mycroft's men arrived at the sheriff's office with a message, hastily scrawled, from Sherlock.
Molly here. Must play nice this evening, so I won't see you. I'll introduce you tomorrow. Love, S.
John felt his heart drop and knew that their easy weeks together were now at a close. That night, he went home alone and willed himself to sleep, only to have the nightmares return and wake him in early hours of the evening.
He went on his morning patrol with a heavy heart and pall of gloom hanging over his head. The hard stare he received from Sarah, who swept the walk outside the general store, did nothing to improve his mood.
He'd expected to meet Molly in a formal occasion at the ranch, but instead he was surprised when he arrived at the sheriff's office to find a young woman with a sweet, open face and an easy smile waiting for him outside.
"Sheriff Watson?" She asked. She wore a red gingham dress. Her dark brown hair was braided and tucked beneath a cream-colored bonnet. "It is Sheriff Watson, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am." John dismounted Azure and secured her reins to the post outside his office. "How many I help you?"
The woman extended a gloved hand, which John took briefly in greeting. "I'm Miss Molly Hooper. Sherlock's fiancé... and friend."
John's mouth formed a small "o" shape as he tried to think of what to say. But Molly took his silence as an invitation to continue speaking.
"Sherlock's told me ever so much about you," she said, her words rushing to spill out of her mouth. "But knowing how he is, I doubt he's told you anything of myself. I've come to set your mind at ease. C-could we walk? While I speak with you?"
John shook himself from his surprise and nodded. "Of course. Shall we?"
He offered his arm to Molly and she took it as they began walking.
"You see, I grew up with Sherlock. Our families were neighbors and our mothers were friends until Sherlock's mother passed away. So I've had many years getting to know who Sherlock really is." Molly continued. "And I suppose that seems like an ideal situation for romance to blossom - or at least, that's what my mother has always believed. But the truth is, I know Sherlock... I know he wouldn't ever be happy with me. Not that he doesn't love me or think highly of me, but it's as a friend only."
"And you're... all right with this?" John asked, cautiously.
"I know I'm supposed to believe it's a terrible sin," Molly said, laughing softly. "I'm supposed to be scandalized, aren't I? But I simply don't believe that's so. There are a great many things wrong with this world, Sheriff Watson, but love is never one of them. That's what I believe."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Miss Hooper. But I'm not sure what it all means?"
"What it means is that I know who Sherlock is and I know how much he cares for you. He wrote me about you, did you know that?" Molly asked, and John shook his head before she continued. "Well, he did. He wrote about your kindness and understanding. What I'm saying, Sheriff Watson, is that I won't stand in the way. I've offered to marry Sherlock in name only, so that he can be happy."
"You would sacrifice so much, for a friend?"
"I don't think it a sacrifice," Molly stated, her face growing fierce. "I'll do it, also, for my freedom. Just as I know who Sherlock is, he also knows that I am not the type of woman to be meek and mild. I don't want a marriage where I'm expected to stay home all day and raise children. Being wed to Sherlock will give me an opportunity to find out what I'd really like to do with my life."
"What do you think that is?"
Molly's eyes sparked. "I want to learn, Sheriff Watson! I want to learn everything! I want to study and travel and see the world and have adventures!"
John laughed, caught up in the young woman's joy. "Those are bold plans, indeed."
"But don't you see?" Molly turned to stand in front of John, taking his hands in hers. "This marriage arrangement will give both Sherlock and myself the opportunities we want. So I came today to introduce myself and assure you that I don't intend to keep you from him."
John looked away, biting his lip, before he turned back and nodded. "I appreciate that, Miss Hooper. I appreciate your understanding. Sherlock is lucky to have a friend such as yourself."
Molly grinned and they turned to walk back to the sheriff's office. They chatted for a little longer, exchanging pleasantries, before John bid her good bye and returned to his office. The spark of hope in his chest grew, warming him to his core.
The hope flickered slightly over the next two weeks, when John barely saw Sherlock or Molly. Preparations for the wedding kept them both occupied and John found that he didn't feel welcome at the ranch with Mrs. Caroline Hooper presiding over the details. He met Molly's mother that first Sunday when he went to church service. She was a tall, imperious woman who looked down her nose at John and acted as though it was his privilege to shake her hand. John caught Sherlock's eye only briefly before Caroline whisked both Molly and Sherlock away to speak with the preacher about their upcoming service.
John hadn't expected to receive a wedding invitation, but surprisingly, one showed up at his office a week before the ceremony. Sherlock's doing, he was sure. Or perhaps Molly. Either way, John tucked the expensive, creamy paper in his desk drawer, contemplating whether he could watch the man he loved marry another woman - even if it was mostly for show.
Meanwhile, the townspeople remained hostile to John and he found himself longing to escape. Several times he thought he should leave in the night and go to California like he'd told Sherlock. But he couldn't bring himself to do it - he wasn't sure he could break Sherlock's heart that way and he knew his own would shatter as well.
The day of the dawned sunny and warm - a perfect day for a celebration. John woke and stared at his best suit that he'd laid out the night before. Instead of putting it on, however, he rose and donned his work clothes.
I can't. He thought, going out to the stable to saddle Azure.
He'd go on patrol, instead. Then perhaps work on paperwork at his office. He couldn't watch Sherlock marry another. Not when he wanted so badly to be the one slipping a ring on Sherlock's finger.
As the morning progressed, John found himself checking his pocket watch. The guests had surely arrived at the church. He knew the entire town had been invited - the occasion of the Mayor's brother's wedding was an auspicious one for the small town.
He pressed onward. Now the wedding party would arrive. The ceremony would start soon.
The closer the hour drew, the more desperate John felt. Finally, he could no longer take it. He rose, grabbing his hat and jamming it on his head. He didn't bother taking Azure. Instead, he walked - and then ran - towards the church. As he approached, he could hear the organ music inside playing the wedding march. Was it too late? He stood outside the doors, torn. He heard the preacher begin inside, talking about love and family and commitment.
John paced outside, unsure of what to do. But as he listened, he heard the preacher say: "If any of you has reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."
Knowing it was now or never, John pushed through the church doors, crashing them open and standing at the end of the aisle.
The entire congregation turned as one. Sherlock and Molly stood at the front, hands clasped in front of the preacher. Molly wore a simple white gown and veil, while Sherlock was clad in a light grey morning suit and a neck cloth the exact color his eyes.
The church had gone silent, but for a few gasps from some of the guests. John stood, frozen, unsure of what to say.
"John?" Sherlock asked, his soft voice easily heard in the silence of the church.
This one utterance broke the silence and Caroline Hooper stood up, face red. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you interrupt the ceremony?"
Mycroft stood next, trying to placate Caroline. "I'm sure there's a simple explanation, Mrs. Hooper. Please, calm yourself."
Voice came in a flood; the townspeople yelled and jeered at John. "What do you want?" "Come to ruin the day?" "Haven't you done enough to the poor boy?" "You should be ashamed of yourself, with your unnatural urges!"
John felt panic rise as the taunts and accusations swirled around him. Then, a loud, clear voice dominated the others.
"WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET, FOR GOD'S SAKE?"
Sherlock stood at the pulpit, having shoved the preacher aside. His face was stormy and he glared at everyone as they fell into a grumbling silence.
"You say that Sheriff Watson should be ashamed of himself," he began, his voice hot with anger. "But I say it is all of you who should be ashamed! Has he not been a good citizen of this town?"
He turned to Sarah, fixing her with a glare. "John Watson saved the lives of your sister and her family. Without him, they might have died!"
Sarah opened her mouth, but Sherlock made a slashing motion with his hand and she closed it again. He turned and eyed another man.
"Ezra Cassidy, didn't Sheriff Watson help you get your wagon out of the mud during the spring? And Esther Parkhurst, didn't he help you when your husband was ill?"
Sherlock gestured to the entire congregation. "Is there one person in this church who hasn't been helped by John Watson?"
No one moved or spoke and Sherlock continued. "John Watson is a good, kind man, who has done nothing but protect this town, only to have his name dragged through the mud. Over what?"
An old woman with a wizened face piped up, her voice quavering with anger. "Sin, that's what! The man's a sinner!"
Sherlock whirled to point a finger at her. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, Mrs. Jeremiah."
John stepped forward and raised his voice. "It's okay, Sherlock. I'll... I'll leave."
"By God, you won't!" Sherlock boomed. "I won't have my friend... no, the man I love, leave because of ignorance."
There were gasps at this declaration and a murmur ran through the church.
"That's right." Sherlock said, holding his head up proudly. "I say I love him, and I do. Perhaps you all think it a sin. I know that I could be put to death for saying such things, so I ask you all. Will you hang me?"
His question was met with uneasy silence as the crowd shifted in their seats.
"I thought so." Sherlock seemed pleased. "I have always been this way. I have always been different. All of you know this, I know that you do. And yet you've allowed me to teach your children. Has any harm come to them? Are any of them worse off?"
A few of the congregation muttered "No," shaking their heads.
"No, they are growing into fine young men and women with proper educations, because of me." Sherlock said. "And we live in a town that is safe and protected because of Sheriff Watson. So I ask all of you, what is so sinful and unnatural, that the two of us should be denied our love?"
Sherlock turned to Mycroft, "I know you've tried to protect me, brother. My whole life you have and I thank you for it, but surely you realize now that being different does not mean that I am a lesser man?"
Mycroft swallowed, his eyes red-rimmed as he looked directly at Sherlock. "No, Sherlock. I see now what mistakes I've made in your upbringing. I'm... I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know how to do better."
"I know," Sherlock said, softly. "I know you didn't."
Sherlock turned to Molly, who watched him warily. "Molly Hooper, you are my best friend. And while I am so thankful for the sacrifice you're prepared to make, in order to make me happy, I cannot let you do it. You deserve freedom, just as I do. Surely you understand?"
Molly smiled, sadly, and nodded. "Of course, I do, Sherlock. Of course."
He turned once again to face the crowd. "The Bible says that what I feel is a sin. The law says that I should be put to death. And yet I'm asking you, all of you, as a town - what do your hearts say? Tell me truthfully, because if you cannot find it in your hearts to accept John and I as we are, then we shall leave and never return."
John moved to protest, but Sherlock held up a hand, his eyes connecting with John's.
"Trust me, John." Sherlock said, calmly. "I know what I'm doing and I know what I want."
The muttering grew louder and John wished he'd thought to bring his gun. If he had to fight his way out of a church with Sherlock in tow, he would.
The preacher, who had been hovering, forgotten, stepped forward and laid a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Folks, I've known Sherlock Holmes for many years. A gentler, more compassionate man couldn't be found if you tried. I know what he's asking goes against your beliefs. It goes against my beliefs. But I also know that the good Lord talks about loving your neighbor. Perhaps... perhaps we could be the first town in the West to embrace that. Perhaps, after all the protection Sheriff Watson has given us as a town, we could protect both of them from outside harm."
Sarah Sawyer stood up then, her voice starting out soft and quavering and then growing louder. "I-I'm sorry, Sheriff Watson, for the gossip I spread about you. It wasn't right. I've hoped to find love my whole life and I let that blind me. But who am I to stand in the way of someone whose found it for themselves?"
One by one, the townspeople stood in agreement, until John found himself being pushed gently towards the front of the church and Sherlock. They were surrounded by smiling people offering congratulations, well wishes, and - occasionally - apologies.
John looked around in wonder, before turning to Sherlock. "W-what just happened?"
Sherlock, smiling, pressed his lips to John's and whirled him around in a hug, causing the crowd around them to laugh, albeit a little uncomfortably. Pulling away, Sherlock said, "You promised me we'd find a way, and we did!"
"But...." John was laughing, breathless, keenly aware they were being watched by the entire congregation. "I still don't understand what just happened!"
Sherlock pulled John to him again, pressing his mouth close to John's ear. "A miracle, John Watson. A real, honest-to-God miracle."
"This is outrageous!" Caroline Hooper cried out, her face red. "Do you all realize how much money this wedding has cost?"
"Oh, mother," Molly piped up, tugging her mother to her seat. "Do be quiet."
Epilogue
Of course it wasn't that easy. Over the days to come, the town of Lockwood still had to adjust. John and Sherlock had to get used to the uncomfortable silences they were met with wherever they went. Or the flinches when strangers saw them holding hands. But slowly, slowly, they were met with acceptance and even friendliness, once the townsfolk became used to the new idea.
Caroline Hooper had to be pacified and convinced to remain silent when she returned to Boston. Mycroft paying her for the cost of the wedding, as well as a little extra for her trouble, helped solve that problem. Though she protested mightily when Molly informed her that she was staying Lockwood. She'd taken a shine to Mycroft's man, Gregory, and stated in no uncertain terms that she planned to live at the ranch until she and Gregory could make a home of their own. They were eyeing the old Moran homestead, in fact. A little work and it would be a proper ranch on its own. Molly told her mother that she fancied herself a rancher's wife and finally, Caroline Hooper acquiesced.
Even with their struggle to adjust and be accepted, John and Sherlock were ridiculously happy. John made plans - helped by Mycroft, who clearly wanted to make amends - to build a grander cabin on his property. For it was his property - Mycroft gave it to him as a gift. Sherlock helped sketch designs for the cabin and John received several offers of help from some of the men in town. He planned to add large stables to the property, for Sherlock expressed interest in raising horses.
Sherlock continued to teach. Nearly all of his students returned, though Sherlock wasn't sure he'd stay on after he finished out the year. He talked of traveling with John, when they could, and studying more about the flora and fauna of Montana. He even suggested he might use his notebooks to write a book on the subject.
"Whatever your heart desires, love." John said, whenever Sherlock talked of his dreams. "I would fetch the moon for you, if it would make you happy."
Sherlock would blush at this, his cheeks growing pink in the way John always found alluring. "My heart desires you," Sherlock said.
"Then it's a good thing you have me, isn't it?" John teased, kissing Sherlock and leading him to their bed.
John knew, no matter how many hard days were still to come, that he would be happy the rest of his life, with Sherlock by his side. Together, they could weather any challenge set before them.
This is how the Sheriff of Lockwood, Montana, and a shy schoolteacher came together to change the minds and hearts of a whole town. Through love, they conquered all.