She was the fourth girlfriend John had had since he moved in with Sherlock years ago. And that woman, sobbing in the front pew—rather obnoxiously, actually, he wished she would stop—was Mary's mother, he guessed.
But Sherlock never guessed.
The woman's hair was dyed, but he noticed that the hints of red in her roots matched Mary's exactly. Then there was the tiny imprints around her neck where a chain had recently sat.
And Sherlock noted, as the bride walked down the isle, arm-in-arm with her fahter, that Mary had on a necklace she'd never worn before, as far as he'd seen. No doubt her mother's. She was the epitome of what a bride should be.
Sherlock glanced at John, his eyes completely focused on his bride-to-be. For the first time that day, John's hand wasn't shaking. Instead, it lay steady by his side.
Though it felt like ages ago, it had only been an hour since Sherlock and John had been running around completely flustered, more so than usual.
"Is my tie straight?" John had asked.
"For the last time, yes," Sherlock said, staring out the window.
"You have the rings? Please tell me you have the rings?"
"For God's sake, John," Sherlock said, turning to his friend. He patted his right pocket, his palm pressing up against the metal beneath the fabric. "I have them, all right? Of course I have them."
John nodded. "Right. Of course."
He turned back to the mirror, patting down his hair. Again.
"Time?" he asked.
Sherlock retrieved his phone from his other pocket and flicked it open. "Five to noon."
"We should probably get going, then," John said.
Sherlock nodded.
He glanced at his friend, who had, up until a few weeks ago, been his flatmate for the last five years. And Sherlock had never seen him so anxious, including the instances when their lives had been endangered.
Sherlock racked his brain, searching for some words of encouragement for John, but found nothing. For once, Sherlock simply didn't know.
But as he stood now, listening intently as the priest completed the vows, and the couple said their "I do"s, he realized that John hardly needed any encouragement. In fact, Sherlock had never seen John any happier.
"And the rings please?" the priest asked.
Sherlock reached into his pocket and retrieved the rings. He handed them to John, giving him a quick glance as if to say "I remembered the rings."
John smirked a bit, before turning back to his bride.
