A/N: Please forgive any punctuation or grammatical mistakes as it is not beta read.
Disclaimer: Characters Do Not Belong To Me.
"Have you picked one out for your wedding?" Mary asked behind the curtain of the dressing room.
Molly Hooper was listlessly looking through various wedding dresses hanging on the rack.
"No. Haven't really found the right one yet." She responded.
Mary silently noted her friend's lack of enthusiasm for her upcoming nuptials to Tom. One would think she would be excited, but she seemed like she was lacking energy, to the point of looking quite apathetic. She figured it had to do with the return of a certain consulting detective.
She had asked Molly accompany her on her fitting, seeing as she was as close to female family around her age, the ex-assassin was ever going to have. Sherlock had insisted that the bride-to-be have multiple fittings to ensure that her dress was perfect. Her impromptu wedding planner was going to meet them a bit later, to make sure alterations were done to his strict specifications. Mary was secretly glad to have Sherlock on her side, as John seemed to be a bit useless in going over fine details.
"Oof! I think that's a bit too tight over the mid-section." She told her seamstress as she was placing her pins.
She was content in allowing Sherlock to help with the planning, but the last thing she wanted was the consulting detective start trying to control her diet as well.
"Why don't you try one on and see how you feel? It will give you an idea of what sort of look you will like." She called out to Molly.
Molly sighed and turned around to answer Mary, but then she paused. On a display was the perfect dress. It had a sweetheart neckline, and the fabric draped elegantly over a hip and pooled out in a beautiful bell shape.
"Would you like to try it on?" A sales associate asked her.
Molly nodded numbly, and followed her into an empty dressing room.
Molly was grateful she put her hair up in a braided bun, so she would not have to fuss with her hair too much. She faced the mirror and closed her eyes while she was helped into the dress, missing the knowing smirk on the sales associates face.
She opened her eyes and gasped.
It was perfect.
She looked and felt like a princess.
Tears started to form as she was overwhelmed with emotion. Chills were going up her arms and down her spine. She would have loved to have her father see her in this dress, as she was his princess after all. Now, she looked the part.
The saleswoman handed her a tissue.
Molly twirled around, looking at the dress in every angle in the mirror. It was gorgeous all the way round.
This was it.
This was her dream dress.
She loved the way it felt. She loved the way it moved. She loved the very subtle shiny details added in the folds of fabric. She loved everything about it.
"Molly! Where are you?" Mary called out to her.
She stepped outside dressing room.
Sherlock was helping Mary adjust her veil on a flowered headband. Mary looked up and gasped, her eyes were wide as saucers. The detective turned to look at what had caught Mary's attention, and was stunned.
His face buffered as he was talking every detail in, from the loose tendrils that escaped from her bun, down to her bare toes. He was not unaffected.
"M-molly." He managed to bite out. "You're wearing a wedding dress. Why are you wearing a wedding dress?" He spoke rapidly.
Molly blushed prettily under his deductive gaze.
Mary goes over to her and reaches out to the other woman. "It's because she is going to be a bride, Sherlock." She takes ahold of both of the pathologist's hands.
This sets off both women crying.
"Oh God." Sherlock tries to quickly find information on how to deal with crying women in his mind palace, but is coming up short. It really is not his area.
"You really have to get this dress." Mary sniffles.
Molly nods and looks at the price tag. It was more than she allowed herself to budget, but the dress is worth it. She makes arrangements with the boutique for paying and getting fitted. She doesn't know when the actual wedding to Tom will be, but she feels a sense of accomplishment in getting such a major thing done.
Sherlock and Mary finish with choosing a type and style of veil, as well as Sherlock requesting a few more minor adjustments.
Overall, it was a very productive day all around.
That night Sherlock laid in bed and was cataloging the day's data in his mind palace. He was just about finished when the image of Molly in her wedding dress came to mind.
The style and fabric of the dress made it look like she was twisted in a bedsheet.
His bed sheet.
It was understated and sexy, much like Molly herself.
In his mind, her hair bun is accented with matching seed pearls, with a long simple veil and flows over her shoulders and down her back.
She looked ethereal.
"She is going to be a bride, Sherlock."
"She is going to be a bride."
"She is going to be a bride."
"She is going to be a bride." Mary's voice echoed.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" An irish-lilted voice asked just past his shoulder.
Moriarty moved past him and towards Molly. He was dressed very much like a groom. He held out a gloved hand for her to take. Off they went, dancing circles around Sherlock. Sherlock could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Moriarty spins her out then towards him. He holds her in place with an arm crossed in front. He locks eyes with Sherlock and ghosts his mouth over her neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.
"She smells wonderful. Makes you wonder what she tastes like." He tells the detective.
He nuzzles Molly behind her ear.
"Then again, I already know what she tastes like."
He pulls away and gives Sherlock a victorious grin.
"Not that you would ever know."
Sherlock gives his archenemy a venomous look.
Moriarty pushes Molly to the ground.
"I have had my turn. Shall we see who is next?"
Molly is picked up by another figure. It's Tom. She throws back a resentful look at Sherlock.
Moriarty is munching on popcorn. "Ooh! He looks a bit like you, don't he? Didn't think there ever be a more boring version than you, but there he is."
"The only challengingly real puzzle that he can try to solve is a pub trivia." He scoffs.
Tom is holding Molly protectively.
The psychopath leans his arm on Sherlock's shoulder.
"How disappointing. Turns out she's just as tedious and ordinary as he is. Well except in the sack…" Moriarty leers.
His voice is cut off by the detective's arm at his neck, crushing his windpipe.
Moriarty's eyes roll up and he wheezes, "Alright. I get it. I get it."
Sherlock releases him, and Moriarty tugs on the lapels of his jacket, and brushes off invisible dust.
"It's best this way. People like Molly Hooper, and John Watson, they deserve to get their happily ever after. God help them, someone should put them out of their misery. But you? You're above all that nonsense."
Sherlock's eyes are locked on Molly.
"Aw don't look so sad." Moriarty leans his face close to his in a mock pout.
"You will always have me." He says with a maniacal grin.
Sherlock awakens with a start.
John and Mary's wedding went off as well as expected. Better, with the unexpected addition of an attempted murder thrown into the mix. For people like Sherlock and John, a touch of mayhem is always appreciated.
Molly arrives with Tom, and it is clearly apparent she is struggling, dealing with her fiancé. He is rather simple, and it is starting to grate on Molly's nerves. You can tell by the way she fists his jacket to pull him close to kiss him, it's her way of effectively getting him to shut up, not that Tom seems to notice or mind
Molly's focus and attention, as always, is mostly on Sherlock. She worries about him giving his best man speech, and if she is perfectly honest with herself, she worries how well she seems to get along with Janine, Mary's beautiful maid of honor. She saw the way he seemed to be amused by the way his lips upturned when he spoke to her, and the fact he tossed her a flower after he played his piece for John and Mary's first dance. She also noticed him leave early from the reception.
Despite the fact they are surrounded by people, like Sherlock, Molly knows what it is like to be lonely in a crowded room. She never admits it aloud, but sometimes she still feels lonely when she is with Tom, like they are on different planets. When Tom suggested a "meat dagger" as a murder weapon during Sherlock's speech, she could have died from embarrassment. What on earth was he thinking?
That night as Tom lay next to her, Molly contemplates this. She is lucky he is too drunk and exhausted to have sex, despite the fact she practically owes him for stabbing him with a fork.
She closes her eyes and starts to dream.
She is in an old church in her wedding dress, getting married to Tom.
"Wilt thou love her…Honor her… Cherish her…in sickness and health—" The old vicar says.
He is interrupted by the bang of the heavy church doors being thrusted open. In comes Sherlock Holmes, dressed chainmail armor, the Holmes crest blazoned on his chest. His face is a bit sooty and the edges of his hair and clothes seem a bit singed.
"There you are!" He says while marching up the aisle towards her. He grabs her arm and starts dragging her back towards the door. "I need you to do a post-mortem on a dragon…" he starts explaining.
"Sherlock! I'm getting married!" She pulls back in the other direction, resisting him.
He stops and turns to look at her and their surroundings.
"Trust me, I am saving you from settling into a life with that boring tit."
Tom has the good sense to look affronted.
He lowers his voice to a seductive tone. "We both know where you want to be."
Molly feels her resolve start to weaken.
"Come with me now, and I will see that you get married to a proper non-boring person."
"There is no one on this earth that is proper for me." Molly turns her head away from him in sadness.
"Marry me then." She hears him say.
She turns her head towards him in surprise. He is kneeling while holding her hand. The locks on his forehead brush against her knuckles.
"You have to choose Molly." He looks up at her with those soul-damning eyes. "Marry him now and suffer in mediocrity or wait for me."
"I…I…" Her breath is caught in her throat.
Molly's eyes shot open.
She knew what she had to do.
She wanted to kill him.
Molly stormed into her flat after coming in to work to administer a drugs test to Sherlock. He failed obviously, and the pathologist was livid.
How dare he.
HOW DARE HE!
Molly clenched her fist at the memory of hitting him. She wanted to slap some sense into him, but all it earned her was a crack about her broken engagement. For once she wished she was engaged to Tom, just so he had the extra discomfort of the ring across his face. The man is going to destroy himself and take her along with him.
Hours later, Molly was still seething with anger when she heard the lock click on her front door.
"What are you doing here?" She said morosely to the consulting detective standing in front of her.
He looked a lot better than before. He was wearing his usual suit, and it appeared he had a shower and a shave.
"I had to come see you. To let you know that nothing is what it seems. It's all for a case."
Molly scoffed. "The tests don't lie, Sherlock."
He stepped forwards towards her. "I know it looks bad, but I need you to trust me."
"Why? WHY? Should I trust you? It's just an excuse for you to get high. No case is worth this." She was bordering on the edge of hysterical.
Sherlock placed his hands on her shoulders. "I have my reasons for doing this. I cannot tell you what they are at the moment, but they are good and valid."
"Nothing is worth this Sherlock Holmes." She pulled away from his touch, her eyes glittering with tears.
"Molly, I…" He was interrupted by the sound of Molly's answering machine.
It was the bridal boutique calling to tell her that the alterations to her wedding dress were complete, and that she could come pick it up.
"Oh god…The dress. I completely forgot about it." Molly down onto her couch and covered her face with her fingers.
With Tom out of the picture, she had no need for a wedding dress now. She did not want to keep it as a reminder of her failed engagement.
Sherlock sat next to her and pulled her hands away. "I am sure the boutique can find someone to buy it off you."
"It has already been altered for me. I'll just have to eat the cost." She responded listlessly.
"Leave it to me. I am sure I can bargain and recoup some of the cost." The detective said determinedly.
Molly just nodded. She might as well let him try to get something for it. Just as long as she didn't have to deal with it.
Surprisingly enough, Sherlock was able to get her money back. He said he found another bride who was willing to take it, it was just her size as well. Though any happiness she felt over this was overshadowed by the fact he was shot, and that his sex life was plastered all over the tabloids, with Janine the bridesmaid no less.
"Mycroft, I need you to do something for me." The detective's low baritone said into his phone, his voice seemed oddly emotional.
After the whole ordeal with Eurus, it seemed as though the hard-edged attitude between the brothers was dulled somewhat. Sherlock stared at the large box, the object within smelled of smoke and its color was dingy with soot. The grenade that exploded within 221B took out the majority of the flat's contents. Luckily, Sherlock was relieved to find that this object, surprisingly remained with minimal damage.
Sherlock told his brother what arrangements he wanted made.
"After all that has happened, it may not be salvageable, brother mine. Are you prepared for that possibility?" The elder Holmes warned the younger.
"Don't disappoint me brother. This is for Molly." Sherlock answered back.
An unspoken pact between the two is invoked. Everything that he asked will be performed to the best of the British government's ability.
Molly huffed up the grassy hill following Sherlock. The cool breeze brought further color to her cheeks. They were in Sussex. Molly was filling in for John on a case. Apparently there was an ex-fiancée who was making threats to an engaged couple. Sherlock, dramatic as he is, wanted to lay a trap for the woman. She can see why John wanted to sit this one out, in case Sherlock tried to get him into a dress. Either man in a wedding gown would have been hilarious, but there was already enough talk about the two of them floating about. So with the promise that she would be kept perfectly safe at all times, the pathologist was enlisted.
She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, before gazing up at the old church. It was beautiful, a perfect venue for a wedding.
Sherlock ushered her into the dressing room, where two women waited to do her hair and makeup.
"Is all this necessary?" She questioned the detective.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Needs to be authentic." He responded. "Your dress is hanging in the wardrobe."
Molly opened the dressmaker's bag on the door and gasped.
It was her dress.
"What is the meaning of this Sherlock?!" She turned towards the detective wearily.
He inspected the dress. "Mycroft did an excellent job getting it restored." He said.
Molly was at a loss for words. "Why?"
"I kept it, as I knew it would come in handy one day."
Only someone like Sherlock Holmes would consider a wedding gown useful.
The man pulls the hanger off the door and holds it up towards Molly before handing it to her. "A proper bride needs the proper dress."
He promptly left leaving the stylists to do their work.
Once she was ready, Molly gazed at herself in the full-length mirror. She truly did look like a bride on her wedding day. The stone in her stomach sank, as she realized this was probably as close to the true thing to marrying Sherlock she was ever going to get. She took a deep breath and made her way down to the aisle.
The church was simply and beautifully decorated. What Molly loved the most was how it complimented the old stone, as it reminded her of the church in her dream. One of the side doors opened and Molly was surprised to see who entered.
"John! What are you doing here?"
There stood John Watson, holding her goddaughter, Rosie, in his arms. More people followed, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mike Stamford, Meena. All the people that were dear to her in the world. No one said a word as they filed in. She caught Mrs. Hudson's gaze and noticed the tears forming in her eyes, she could feel hers coming on as well.
"You look beautiful." A baritone voice behind her says.
Molly whirled around to see the consulting detective standing behind her, dressed handsomely in his suit. He looked good enough to be a groom.
"What's going on Sherlock? What is everyone doing here?"
A cold grip of anxiety seems to hold her heart.
"Well, since everyone is here. We might as well get married." He said with a lopsided grin.
"What?!" Molly exclaims.
Sherlock takes her hand and kneels. It reminds Molly so strongly of her dream.
"Marry Me, Molly Hooper. Right here. Right now. In front of all our friends."
He slips a simple but sparkling diamond onto her finger.
"You…You bastard!" She stutters, nearly knocking him over while softly beating her fists against his chest.
Soft chuckling can be heard behind them.
"You know my methods." He says as he holds her. "I am not the easiest man in the world to get along with, and yet you loved me for all this time whole heartedly. I have come to the realization that all along I have loved you too, and selfish man that I am, I cannot bear to waste another moment apart from you, I need you in my life."
He kisses her.
And it is everything that she imagines a properly romantic kiss to be.
"You. Are. Mine. Molly Hooper" He growls lowly.
Only a man like Sherlock Holmes would have the bravado to have an engagement and wedding on the same day.
Molly presses her face into his chest, speaking against his shirt. "You just had to ask in front of everyone didn't you?"
"Well, I wanted to reduce the risk of you refusing in public, in case you were thinking of saying no" He responded cheekily.
"Not a chance. Sherlock Holmes." She tightened her grip on him, and kisses him again.
After a moment, Sherlock breaks the kiss and looks thoughtful for a moment. "Just to be clear, you are saying yes, correct?"
Molly both laughs and happily cries at the same time.
She hugs him close, as he wipes her tears with his gloved hand.
Molly buries her face into her future husband's neck as she is suddenly shy of their audience.
There is not a dry eye in the house.
Even the ever stoic Mycroft "The Ice Man" Holmes seem to manage a few subtle sniffles, as he stands next to an elderly couple, presumed to be Sherlock's parents.
John and Lestrade are less subtle as they both have managed a full on ugly cry. One that seem to be winning the battle against Mrs. Hudson's tissues.
The new pair make their way over to their friends. Hearty congratulations and new tears are all around.
As the work their way down the line they come to Sherlock's parents.
"Hi…" Molly says shyly and awkwardly.
The elder Holmeses guffaw and Mrs. Holmes pulls her into an embrace.
"Welcome to the family." She says.
"Thank you." Molly says.
She turns towards Mycroft and tries to regain her composure. Squaring her shoulders into a stiff posture she tells her future brother-in-law in her best uppity tone. "I understand I have you to thank for helping to arrange all this."
"There is still time to escape Miss Hooper. I do have a car and a helicopter at the ready, should you require it." He says sedately.
Sherlock scoffs at him.
"There is an important duty that I hope you haven't failed to forget." Molly says.
Mycroft freezes for a moment, then matches her, posture for posture and tone for tone.
"And just what would that be, Miss Hooper?" He inquires imperiously.
"That you do remember to walk me down the aisle."
Just when Sherlock thinks he couldn't love Molly more, she does the unthinkable.
She renders Mycroft speechless.
"I would be honored." He says when he finally regains his composure.
The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and both newlyweds are pleased, despite the lack of murder. There is a small garden reception out back set up in the style of a high tea, where tea and lemonade are served and petit fours attractively piled high in lieu of a cake. Molly's skirts swirl around the dance floor, making her feel like a princess with her prince. It feels surreal dancing in Sherlock's arms.
"Is this real?" She asks him. "I feel like I am in a dream."
Sherlock chuckles. "Well I will try to be sure not to wake you then."
He kisses her forehead reverently.
It was a long and arduous journey that brought them here to this moment. As Molly leans into her new husband, she can't help but feel a sense of peace in this moment. She knows that things won't be like this forever, but she is looking forward to the challenges and adventures that face ahead.
She is happy with the choices she made, both with her wedding gown and partner in life.