Chapter Text
Sherlock categorically refused to have any part in organising John’s stag party.
“John, I cannot see the point in us going out, drinking too much and ogling over naked women. In your last days as a single man are you expected to do things you might never do again? If looking at other women naked is so appealing you wouldn’t be getting married. Why do you want to do things you wouldn’t want Cathy to know about anyway? No, I want nothing to do with this travesty. I’ll carry out the best man duties on the day, but I just can’t do this. In any case, I have no interest in it and I would only inhibit your other friends.”
John could only gulp in amazement at Sherlock’s new found self-awareness, but his words did make a lot of sense.
Then Greg stepped into the breach and tried to think of suitable places to go on the big night. He suggested a night at the local pub; “No, we want something a bit different”, he suggested they find a strip club; “no Sherlock is right- it really would be tacky”, he suggested they go on a river cruise; “a bit touristy”. In the end, he suggested paintballing;
“Really, paintball, that might be fun. We do it in teams, don’t we? I suppose we could split my army buddies up, and split up the coppers too, because most of you have at least a bit of firearms training. It would be a lot better than getting drunk or watching strippers!”
When they told Cathy, she just groaned. “I wish we could do something like that. Emma is trying to organise my hen’s night and everything seems to involve drinking. I don’t mind a couple of drinks but everything seems to rely upon drinking far too much and behaving badly. Not really my thing, is it?”
“Why can’t you do it too? John, how would you feel if we had a combined stag/hens night at paintballing? We could split up the women between the two teams, just like we split up the military and police so the teams are fairly evenly matched. Cathy, how would your girlfriends feel about getting dirty?”
“Well my knitting buddy Sam might object to the presumption. She’s ex-army herself, and I think she would probably prefer to be treated as one of the troops.”
And so, it was all arranged. On the Saturday morning a week before the wedding a bus pulled up outside 221 Baker Street where 30 or so of John and Cathy’s friends had gathered ready for a day of fun –although by the conversation on the way to the range, a few of the ex-soldiers in particular seemed to be taking it very seriously. When he found out that the day would involve “shooting”, even Sherlock had agreed to come along. Most of Cathy’s friends had agreed that it sounded better than a night in a pub or club. Neither Peter nor Caroline had accepted their invitation, but Cathy was not surprised. Baby Alexander was only a few weeks old and neither parent wanted to leave him and Hannah with a sitter yet.
As they travelled the hour or so to the paintball range, John and Cathy’s friends got acquainted. A few of them already knew each other, but as their friends moved around the bus, John and Cathy were optimistic about the party mood at their wedding.
A couple of Cathy’s friends made a point of asking who the gorgeous looking man next to John was, and Cathy tried to explain about their best friend; should she tell them he was married to his work, or let them know he was unattached? Instead she settled on telling them that Sherlock was surprisingly shy and awkward around strangers, but suggesting that they could possibly ask him to dance next Saturday. Maybe.
Once they arrived at the range, Cathy was amazed at the change in some of her friends. While she had expected them to enjoy themselves, she had not anticipated anything like the level of competitiveness they displayed. Her colleagues from work and some of her friends from knitting suddenly turned into commandos. Some of John’s friends had to re-evaluate their opinions of the “girls”, once they realised that these women had turned aggressive as soon as they picked up their weapons. All that was forgotten over lunch, and in the afternoon session the teams were swapped around. Sherlock, not surprisingly, had chosen to not compete (paintball would have absolutely ruined that suit!) but followed the referees around to see how the games worked.
By the end of the day, the bus took home a group of tired and dirty friends. Plus Sherlock, who still looked as fresh as he had when he boarded the bus in the morning.
The verdict was a unanimous “yes”.
The first event of Wedding Week was a success.