Inspired by a reviewer this morning, this story came to me in a flash of inspiration after what I had written to be a scene in "Union" that could either be throwaway, or something to revisit later on if the ideas struck. Little did I know it would strike so quickly. While written as a standalone story, it ties directly to "Union", the recent story of Will Holmes and Rosie Watson's wedding day preparations. This fic picks up on Rosie and Will's special day, at the reception and dance following their nuptials. As always, I own none of these characters save for my own character of Will Holmes, who is inspired by Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their own inspirations and the creator of the core characters, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. No copyright infringement is intended.
On this most special of special occasions, Sherlock Holmes stood next to his younger sister Eurus – though at this stage in the game the term "younger" was purely relative – as they played together a very special piece that his son, John Victor William – known simply as Will – had composed many years ago for his beloved Aunt on the occasion of her birthday.
Sherlock smiled warmly and contentedly at his son, dancing with his bride Rosie. Watching the younger Holmes gliding over the dance floor, it occurred to him that his son was nearly his doppleganger. Will seemed to be the man that Sherlock may have been from the start, had the events of his childhood set into motion by Eurus hadn't played out the way they did.
He glanced over at his wife of 25 years, Dr. Molly Hooper, and briefly thought back to their own wedding day. Molly had been a vision to behold, he could hardly believe it himself that day – and Sherlock Holmes was a man who generally believed what his own eyes were telling him. His eyes momentarily glanced over his best friend (and father of the bride), Dr. John Watson, chatting casually with Mycroft. John had seemed to settle in to the celebration quite comfortably once his fatherly duty had been performed by walking his only child down the aisle. Sherlock was grateful that Rosie, looking remarkably like her mother Mary in her wedding attire, had managed to overhaul some memories for her father.
But for a man who made his living observing and deducing, Sherlock completely and utterly failed to notice the intense gaze shared by Eurus and one of his closest and oldest friends – save for John of course – retired DI Greg Lestrade.
Greg, recently retired from Scotland Yard, had found himself suddenly bored to death. Mrs. Hudson had casually remarked to Molly earlier that day that to her memory, even Sherlock at his most bored and restless hadn't been as desperate for something to occupy himself as Greg now was. It were as if the man had all the time in the world now to do whatever he wanted, and he hadn't the faintest clue what that even meant. Even today, though invited as an honoured guest by both Rosie and Will, Greg had taken it upon himself to wrangle everyone and everything into a day of absolute perfection. No last minute detail was left unsupervised or neglected. Now that the vows had been said, the speeches delivered, and the celebration fully underway, he allowed himself the luxury of relaxing.
Earlier in the day, however, he had found himself with the perplexing impulse to flirt with Eurus, after he had busted Rosie skulking too close to the room where Will was preparing himself and had promptly escorted her back to her own room, lest she "botch the day" as he had warned her. He smiled softly at the memory of Eurus scolding him about old wives tales.
Eurus Holmes, of all people. Eurus! Bloody! HOLMES! The havoc she had wreaked on so many lives so many years ago made the entire notion absolutely ludicrous. And yet, he found himself mesmerized by the warmth in her smile and the contentment in her bright blue eyes. It was no secret that Eurus Holmes, over the course of many years and much contact with family, had found her humanity and discovered that she did have a heart after all. The transformation and – for want of a better term – rehabilitation of this woman had made her virtually unrecognizable from the person who had unleashed Jim Moriarty on London – and indeed, on Sherlock himself.
Indeed, Eurus didn't recognize herself either now, thinking back. It were as if the person she had been back then were a complete stranger. And though Greg himself wasn't exactly a stranger, she known him for over 25 years now – she had never looked upon him with the eyes she suddenly found herself holding his warm brown-eyed gaze with. She almost passed it off as sentiment inspired by the closeness of family and the events of the day, but decided that perhaps this was something worth exploring.
And so, standing next to her big brother and playing her share of the duet her nephew had composed, Eurus found herself basking in the warmth of Greg Lestrade's eyes and the hint of a curious smile that relaxed his face. His expression alone was so relaxed that the lines he had earned through years of police work had nearly vanished. For a moment, Greg's youth returned, an observation not lost on Eurus.
As their bows gracefully passed over the strings of their instruments in the final strains of the music, the dance ended and the guests broke into applause. Sherlock glanced over at Eurus, still holding Greg's gaze, and held his hand out to her. Eurus turned her head just long enough to smile at her brother and take his hand, as they bowed serenely and stepped down from the stage. Sherlock smiled, completely clueless, as Greg suddenly appeared at the steps leading down from the stage platform, offering his hand to assist Eurus to the dance floor.
John, standing next to Molly, noticed the looks that Eurus and Greg had shared. His jaw dropped slightly and he turned to Molly.
"Bloody hell Molly, did you just see that?" Sherlock, approaching him with glasses in hand, handed one of them to him.
"See what, John?" Molly asked innocently. Of COURSE she had seen it. She wasn't blind. Eurus may be older now, but she wasn't dead. She was a woman of extraordinary brilliance and cleverness unmatched – but she was, after all, still just a woman. But, Molly wasn't telling John Watson any of that. She was going to enjoy watching John and her husband work THIS deduction out.
"That – over there – Eurus and… Greg?" John waved his hand out towards the dance floor.
Sherlock, alerted to the revelation by John's hand gesturing over towards his sister and longtime Scotland Yard cronie, looked over himself. His eyebrows furrowed as he blinked several times. As the string quartet launched into their next waltz, his eyes grew large as Greg took Eurus's hand and led her to the dance floor, drawing her into a waltz.
This wasn't just any waltz. This was not a formal ballroom dance performance. They were dancing closely together, their eyes locked and small smiles gracing their faces. Their close proximity as they moved together to the music as one singular body made it clear that these things all came together in one unmistakable conclusion.
John and Sherlock recognized that look a mile away. John had shared it with Mary on their wedding day. Sherlock had shared it with Molly on theirs. Rosie and Will were sharing it at that very moment. And Eurus Holmes and Greg Lestrade, bafflingly, were sharing it now as well.
"What on earth," Sherlock managed to breathe out, when he had finally finished blinking.
"I know, right? Sherlock what is in this wine anyway?" John asked, bringing the glass up to take a good long pull.
"Scotch. On the rocks," Sherlock replied absently. "What the hell… that's my sister. My baby sister. How… when… WHAT?"
Molly lifted her glass, supressing a belly laugh. Oh, this really WAS too good.
"Darling, for a man who has spent the past 30 years gaining international renown for his skills of observation and deduction, you are being amazingly thick right now. I mean, astoundingly, mind blowingly THICK." She winked at her husband as he turned to look at her, confused and bewildered.
"But… she's my baby sister. She's not supposed to… I mean…"
"Oh, stuff the protective big brother routine, Sherlock," Molly snorted. "Eurus is a woman, and not a young one anymore either. She has found her humanity and she deserves every scrap of happiness that that offers up to her. She is well overdue for a little romance, I think." She reached over to her husband and took his hand, drawing him close to her. She wrapped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his chest, sighing happily.
"Well," Sherlock finally conceded. "She could do a hell of a lot worse than Greg Lestrade." He smiled at the couple, who had seemingly shut out everyone and everything in the room.
"True that," John admitted. "Maybe she'll keep Greg out of our hair now. The man has been bored to distraction. He hasn't a clue what to do with himself anymore and now that Rosie and Will are married, he hasn't got the wedding to occupy his time anymore.
"Well… maybe not THIS wedding," Molly hinted slyly. "They do make an adorable couple, don't you think? She really is a beautiful woman and Greg has always been a sexy little hottie. He hasn't lost any of that over the years."
Sherlock's eyes grew large as he looked down at his wife. Molly grinned back at him. "Well, not as sexy hot as YOU my love, but I mean… strictly speaking… Greg has always been a handsome man." Sherlock blinked down at Molly, speechless. "What? I'm married Sherlock, I'm not blind."
"Neither of them are getting any younger, I suppose," Sherlock said, sighing with resignation. John, still standing next to them, drained his glass.
"None of us are, mate. Do you realize that we could potentially be grandparents as early as 9 months from now? And Eurus a great-aunt. I suppose you're right, Molly. Maybe this is the final piece in the puzzle that makes up Eurus's humanity." Molly smiled at him and handed him her empty glass, indicating wordlessly that she'd like a refill.
"John, you told me many years ago that being in a relationship would complete me, and you were absolutely right. I don't know why it never once occurred to me that Eurus may need that same sense of completion." Sherlock smiled at his best friend, then turned his face down to kiss Molly's hair. Redirecting his gaze, he watched his sister and his friend lost in the wonderment of the very first stages of something that had the potential to be so very special.
"Well, I need a refill. Molly, what did you have?" John asked, turning his eyes towards the bar.
"Oh, it doesn't matter John. Surprise me." Molly tore her eyes away from the dance floor long enough to gaze up at Sherlock. John rolled his eyes and shook his head as they shared a rather involved kiss.
"I don't think there is a single surprise left in this room," he muttered, shaking his head and smiling to himself.
He couldn't WAIT for Mycroft to catch wind of this.