Hello! This is Sherlock/OC, which I usually don't like, but here I am! My sister and I created the character Emily Hart a long time ago, and we're excited to bring her to life here!

Sherlock may be a bit OOC due to the romance that is involved in this story, but we tried to make him as in character as possible!

Enjoy!

Forever and Always

Ms. Hart? You're listed as Mr. Holmes emergency contact.

…

Something…something's happened.

The nurse on the other end continued to talk, but Emily had stopped listening. The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She stared at Sherlock's chair, her thoughts wandering away from the phone call to an incident three months earlier.

###

Emily was curled up on the couch, reading her favorite book, and Sherlock had been in the kitchen, working on an experiment that Emily hadn't cared to identify. She had been reading all day, and had finally arrived at her favorite part in the book, where the story's main character, a hopeless romantic named Tom who had been rejected time and time again, professed his undying love and devotion to his best friend who had been there all along, Kate.

"'I want you forever,'" Emily mumbled along as she read.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock said distractedly, still staring intently into his microscope.

"Shh, I wasn't talking to you. I was reading."

"Can't you read silently? The porcupine reacts to any sort of noise-"

Emily was not listening, deep in her book. She sat up, clutching at her heart. "Shut up, Sherlock." Reading this book always made her unusually emotional. "Listen to this. 'I want you forever,' Tom said, suddenly reaching for Kate's hand. 'Through the good, and the bad-'"

Sherlock interrupted with a loud scoff. "That's the most ridiculous and idiotic thing I've ever heard."

"What do you mean, ridiculous? It's romantic!" Emily protested, affronted.

"Any man who talks like that to a woman just wants a shag." Sherlock said, finally turning his attention away from his microscope and the dissected porcupine. "Those lines are created by a sad, unattractive, lonely little woman who desperately wishes a man would even look in her direction."

"They are not!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, and Emily shrugged. "Okay, fine, it's a little over the top, but he wants to marry her. That always calls for some cheesy, romantic speech."

"Is that what you want?" He turned his calculating stare from the porcupine to her, and those familiar butterflies came to life again in her stomach, her breath shortening slightly. Even after all this time, he never failed to have that effect on her.

"I-What do you mean?"

"I mean," Sherlock said slowly, as if talking to a small child, "when someone proposes to you, do you want a 'cheesy, romantic speech'?

"I-I don't-Well, I might. I haven't decided yet," she ended quickly, trying desperately to appear nonchalant-however, she ended up sounding much more testy than disinterested.

Sherlock rose from his chair, wiping off his hands on the bloody apron he had just recently started to use during experiments ("why have I never used this? It's brilliant, simply brilliant"). He strode over and took a seat next to her on the couch, looking genuinely curious. "Isn't asking someone to marry you romantic enough? Is there a really a need for further pontification?"

Now Emily could smell his cologne, which was strong and bloody amazing, just like everything he did-not to mention his hair, and those eyes locked on hers, it was all incredibly and ridiculously distracting.

"Most girls want a speech." She cringed at the way her voice cracked, but he didn't seem to care.

"But what do you want?"

Emily was surprised, normally he shied away from any subject that had to do with romance. She shrugged again and looked away from him. "I suppose, if I knew he loved me, it wouldn't matter much if there were a speech." There was no response, and she turned to look. He was thinking, his eyes narrowed, his hands pressed together underneath his nose, the way he did when he was thinking hard.

"What is it?" Emily asked. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He did not answer, and solemnly and simply, he moved off the couch and onto one knee.

"Emily Hart."

"Sherlock?"

"Marry me."

###

"Ma'am?"

The sound of the nurse's voice broke through at last, pulling Emily quite violently back to reality, feeling rather as she had been slapped awake.

"Um, sorry," her voice echoed strangely, foreign to her own ears. "Holmes. I'm here for Sherlock Holmes."

The nurse's expression instantly changed from irritable (the woman must have tried to get her attention more than a few times, but Emily couldn't remember-she couldn't even remember how she had gotten to the hospital in the first place) to gentle in a matter of seconds.

"Yes, Sherlock Holmes," the nurse said softly. She glanced at her computer screen, then back to Emily. "Room 304, dear."

Emily hated the pity that was in the nurse's voice, in her expression, that simply radiated from her. But it couldn't be helped. She forced a smile anyway. "Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse and timid. She made a quick getaway, knowing if she had to speak any more, she would certainly cry.

The hospital halls blurred by, and before she knew it she was standing in front of Room 304. Swallowing hard, she turned the doorknob, and it creaked open. She couldn't properly describe how she felt stepping into the room, but it was something akin to being buried alive.

"Sherlock." Emily rushed to Sherlock's side, taking his limp hand in hers. She bit her lip hard, holding back the tears that were threatening. He looked awful, bloody, bandaged, and lost in a mess of tangled wires and tubes. The heart monitor, the only machine Emily recognized, beeped steadily beside them. John was sitting in a chair to Emily's far left, his head in his hands.

Emily squeezed Sherlock's hand gently, and his eyelids twitched, then struggled to open.

"Emily?" His cracked lips opened barely, his voice scratchy and soft.

"Yeah," she said, tears filling her eyes. "It's me."

His eyes fluttered closed again, tension seeming to leave his face. "Got hit by a cab," He said with some difficulty, his voice marred by the oxygen tubes. "A rather idiotic way to die, but in my defense, it was in pursuit of a case." The effort of saying these few words was almost too much for him, his breathing laboured and heavy. His fingers curled around hers.

"Oh shut up, you're not dying," she said thickly, trying to keep her voice light despite the tears rolling down her face. "You're going to be fine. In just a few days I'll be taking you home to Baker Street. Don't be such a drama queen." Her voice broke quite audibly, and she wiped at her never ending tears in an attempt to distract herself.

Sherlock's mouth quirked up slightly in a smile, his eyes still closed. "Do you want to live at Baker Street after we're married?"

"Of course I do. It's home, isn't it?"

To Emily's surprise, a tear slipped down Sherlock's cheek. "It's just a place," he said, his voice shaking. "It can't really be home, it's just a flat. Home is just an idea, a concept created-"

Emily shook her head, squeezing his hand even tighter. "Baker Street is home and you know it. And it always will be, you git."

Sherlock smiled that one cornered smile again, that one that she loved so much. He started to cough, terrible, rattling coughs that shook his entire body, blood appearing at the corner of his mouth, bright against his pale skin.

This hurt, so much more than she ever could have imagined. She didn't want to be here, but at the same time anywhere else would be the exact wrong place to be. Her body trembling, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "Shh," she said soothingly. "It's going to be alright. It's going to be just fine."

He nodded, his thick curls brushing against her cheek.

Emily sat back in her chair, still gripping Sherlock's hand and looked over at John. She didn't blame him for not being able to say anything, she knew he did not trust himself to speak. He sat, flexing his fingers in and out, blinking hard. John and Emily's eyes met, and the soldier tried to smile, tried to pretend to be fine for Emily's benefit. It hurt that he was so obviously not fine, and it was all she could do to offer a reassuring, albeit strained smile in return.

Her attention returned to John's hands again, something gold and gleaming catching her eye.

His wedding ring.

It gave her an idea, and it both thrilled her and filled her with dread at the same time, but she knew she would hate herself if she didn't.

"John," Emily said at last, "can I borrow yours and Mary's rings?"

John's pained expression twisted into one of confusion. "Our…our rings?"

Emily stood up, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Call Mycroft. Sherlock and I are getting married."

John stared. "Now?"

"Now."

The next half hour was a flurry-John called Mycroft, who arranged to bring up a chaplain sick from appendicitis on the first floor to come up, John and Mary's rings sitting on the bedside table, a necklace that Sherlock had given Emily brought from home, John and Mary seated on one side of the bed, and Emily on the other.

Sherlock said nothing whilst the arrangements were happening. Instead, he held onto Emily's hand, watching her, and she him, both of them memorizing the features of the other.

Finally, everything was prepared, and the impromptu wedding began. Emily's heart pounded as the chaplain read the verses from his wheelchair at the foot of the bed. John and Mary smiled reassuring at her through their tears. Lestrade stood at back wall of the room with Mycroft, who was putting on a stoic face despite the way his chin trembled.

Emily caught Sherlock's attention once while he was repeating the verses, his eyes hardly able to stay open. He rolled his eyes slightly at the more romantic vows, but his grip seemed to tighten a little with each vow. Perhaps that was just her imagination. He was being rather distracting again.

Emily helped Sherlock put on John's ring, and she slipped Mary's ring onto her own.

"'Should get you a proper ring," Sherlock mumbled, his eyes closing.

Emily's heart dropped as she realized the beeping from the heart monitor had slowed considerably, and Sherlock's mouth opened and closed again in a valiant effort to speak.

No, no, no, no…

Though he was trying hard, Sherlock's grip was loosening. He was trying hard to tell her something, but Emily couldn't catch what. She leaned forward, trying to hear.

"I love you, forever and always," he mumbled, and Emily's world careened to a halt, realizing he was quoting the words from the book, from her favorite story, from her completely stupid and awful favorite story.

"Please just remember," Sherlock pushed on, and Emily's tears started again, kissing his hand. "Even if I'm not there…"

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening-

"Even if I'm not there…I'll always love you."

Sherlock opened his eyes, meeting hers.

"Forever and always."

Let me know your thoughts! And please, if you have time, check out my little fan channel (Sicily Madesen) on Youtube! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this!