Ever since he got to know that John Watson had asked Mary Morstan to marry him, Mycroft Holmes feared that he might get an invitation to that wedding.
For many years now he had managed to build a reputation so that no one would get an idea such as inviting him to a wedding. He should have known, his brothers "goldfish" invited him nevertheless.
What he feared even more than the day the invitation waited for him, was the day the wedding happened. On that particular Saturday Mycroft didn't need an alarm clock, he hadn't slept anyways.
During a large cup of coffee he couldn't stop himself from fiddling with his golden ring. Most people, including his little brother and even his parents, thought he wore it just to avoid any attempts at flirting. Except for his driver, Walther, the most trusted of all his men, nobody knew why Mycroft Holmes really wore a wedding band. Because that's what it really was, it wasn't just any gold ring he decided to wear due to its convenience.
He sighed and thought back to a sunny Saturday, 10 years ago, just like the one today.
Mycroft Holmes was nervous, he had never been this nervous. Standing in front of the altar, looking around in the empty church, only Walther, the priest and two more guests standing there with him. All of them looked up at the shrieking of the church door.
Mycroft couldn't believe his eyes. His Ann, looking so brave, incredibly smart and beautiful, all in white, walking down the aisle. He couldn't believe she had really chosen him, the arrogant know-it-all as her friends had called him. But here she was, walking up to him at their wedding day, he must be the luckiest man alive.
He put his cup down with a bit too much forced and almost ran out of the kitchen, as if he wanted to escape his memories.
All dressed in his three-piece suit he went outside and nodded towards Walther, who was already waiting for him.
"Where to, sir?"
"Do you really need to ask, Walther? On this day?"
Walther's eyes darkened and he slightly shook his head. He opened the door of the car and waited for his boss to enter the car.
It wasn't a long ride and just like last year, and the eight years before Mycroft wondered how it had escaped his brother's sharp perception that he went there every year for the last 9 years.
When the large hospital like house appeared in his view Mycroft's mood turned from sad to grief-stricken and the look on his face wasn't befitting the Iceman anymore. It was the look of a heartbroken man.
Just like all the other times he came to visit he was greeted very friendly at the door.
"Good morning Mr. Smith, we were expecting you."
Smith was one of the cover names he never used and always told all his employees to never use in any case. He always told them it was far too obvious, but it wasn't, it was Ann's maiden name and he just couldn't bring himself to use her name on a mission.
"Good morning Sister Julia, would you see to it that these flowers get some water?"
He handed the bouquet of white roses to the nurse and tried his best to smile at her. This was one of the few places where Mycroft Holmes didn't need to be the Iceman, here he was Mr. Smith, a grieving visitor.
"Well of course I will, Mr Smith! Just go one, you know the way. She's outside with Sister Louise."
Sister Julia smiled at him and went about her work.
Mycroft stepped outside, where he could see Sister Louise with her.
Just like the last 9 years he just stood there for a few minutes, watching the nurse interact with the still beautiful red-headed woman. She was now 39, just like Mycroft himself and judging from what the nurses told him, she was still smart in her own way.
He took a deep breath and walked over to the two women.
"Oh look, Ann, you have a visitor!" The nurse said as she saw him approaching.
The red-haired woman turned and smiled at him politely.
"Hello, do I know you?"
Mycroft forced himself to smile at her.
"Good morning Mrs. Smith, how nice to see you. Would you like to walk a bit with me? It's a lovely day today, isn't it?"
Sister Louise stayed behind as she watched the pair walking around the small garden. She knew he wouldn't want it, but she pitied Mr. Smith, and at the same time she was kind of proud of him.
For 9 years now he was visiting his wife on their wedding anniversary. They've been married for 10 years, 9 of them in which she didn't remember him or anything else that had happened to her after her 25th birthday. She didn't even remember meeting her husband 12 years ago. And still, he came to visit her and talk to her every year. Sister Louise could see how it must hurt him but he never ceased to send flowers on her birthday, a small present and a card on Christmas and the yearly visit on their wedding day. He would only stay for 15 minutes, she assumed he couldn't manage to see his wife, who didn't recognize him, for longer. When he left he still looked like the grieving husband that was made a widower by this awful illness but his eyes were less dark than when he arrived.
