Beth does not appear to have arrived at the church yet. I look about me anxiously, but see no sign of her.
Watson rests a hand upon my shoulder. "She is most likely preparing to walk down the aisle, old man," he whispers. "We should take our positions at the front of the church, as rehearsed. Are you ready?"
No. My nerves are making me feel unwell and I can barely breathe.
Watson takes my hand, squeezing gently. "All will be well," he assures me.
But what if Beth has come to her senses and ran away with somebody else? Surely, Watson had never had reason to fear such things!
After what feels like an age of nerves and uncertainty, the music begins and we both turn to see Beth and her bridesmaids walking down the aisle. It is -- naturally -- her uncle that is giving her away. His arm is linked with hers and he looks very proud indeed.
I barely notice the entourage, for I only have eyes for my Beth. She is more beautiful than I have ever seen her! Her long white dress flows about her like liquid silk, the fall is so perfect on her. I am unable to clearly see her face, as she is veiled, but I know that the flowers in her bouquet match her eyes perfectly.
Everything from this point on is a blur, but I believe that nothing goes wrong. Watson has Beth's ring and someone obviously has been holding onto mine, for Beth slips it onto my finger at the appropriate moment. At last, I am given permission to kiss my wife and we then walk swiftly back up the aisle, holding hands.
"You might not want to go outside," Mr. Brett tells us, as we are indeed approaching the door of the church. "Not yet, anyway."
"Why the deuce not?" I demand to know.
He adverts his gaze. "I... uh... I needed a bit of air -- it was getting hard to breathe in there -- so I thought I'd get a bit of air..."
And a highly illegal smoke, no doubt. "Well...?"
He clears his throat. "I noticed a news van setting up. I don't know how they got wind of this, but... I didn't think you'd want to blunder into them -- not today, of all days."
"Zedding great," Beth mutters. "First rain and now zed-head reporters!"
I pat her hand.
"Oh!" Brett grins. "I wonder if it's still raining. Ha ha! Yes! It is! Great!"
"Got a plan?" Beth asks.
He nods, still grinning widely. "With the rain falling, they'll find it very hard to tell the difference between me and Holmes -- especially seeing as nobody knows that David and I are here. What if I go out and wander about, under an umbrella, as if I'm trying to work out whether or not the rain is going to go off soon enough to have pictures taken in the churchyard? Meanwhile, you can have some pictures taken inside and then get out of here."
"Good idea," I mutter, "but how are you going to join us without leading them back to us?"
"Well, I'll pretend that I've only just noticed them and then go and tell them to bugger off."
I gape at him. "You most certainly will not! I will not have that as a headline, thank you very much."
He throws his head back laughing. "I didn't mean that I was literally going to say that to them. I'll go up to them and say something like: 'Hello there... How long have you been filming? I think you've got enough now, don't you? This is supposed to be private, after all.' And if they refuse to leave, maybe John can threaten to break a few cameras..."
John would be helpful, actually. I go and locate him, telling him that Jeremy has need of his assistance.
Beth goes to the door and watches Jeremy for a few minutes. We then go back inside the church and have a few pictures taken, while we wait for him. I have already decided not to leave without him, if he and John are going to see the press off.
John is only too happy to assist Mr. Brett and goes out to him at once, assuring me that the news men will soon be gone. I do not doubt it!
"I guess the rain was good for something," my dear wife muses. "I still wish the zedding sun would come out, though. Is it too much to ask?"
"We have an entire lifetime to spend together," I remind her. "Plenty of time to enjoy the sunshine."
She laughs. "I guess so, Sherlock. I just... I would've liked to have got some pictures of us all in the sun. Y'know?"
Mycroft approaches us. "Congratulations," says he. "Beth, I am very honoured to call you my sister-in-law; I know only too well that no other woman could have so won Sherlock's heart."
What heart? "Thank you, Mycroft. I take it that you have located the supply of Communion wine?"
He snorts. "A word of advice, Beth: never embarrass Sherlock."
She smirks.
"We must forgive Mycroft," I tell her. "I believe this is the first wedding which he has decided to attend."
Mycroft gives me a dirty look and goes to chat with Watson.
"That was mean," my wife admonishes. "He was giving me a compliment. Don't give me that look, I know; you felt like it was a back-handed compliment. Maybe it was, but I don't think he meant it that way. C'mon Sherlock, we both know you miss him like crazy."
Perhaps I do, but that does not mean that I shall allow him to insult my wife.
"Mycroft would like to watch the children grow up," I whisper. "How are we to arrange that? To Victorian London one year at Christmas as guests and then to be hosts the following year?"
She shakes her head. "We can't do it," she tells me. "Remember how often and easily you and Watson got sick, the first six months or so you were back from death? You were immune to the wrong bugs. Little kids aren't even immune to all the stuff from their own time; a trip to a different one -- especially one like the Victorian era -- would be really dangerous. Bringing visitors here would be even more stupid. We're taking enough risks now, with so many people from so many different times at our wedding."
"John has thought of that and given them each a full health check with Watson. Does it still bother you?"
"I just... it's the kids I'm worried about. You get it, right?"
Yes, I do understand. All the same, I feel rather sorry for Mycroft and Beth's ancestors.
"Maybe we should get rid of the time machine," says she. "I think having the thing puts unfair pressures on you."
I have never heard such utter piffling nonsense! "It does nothing of the sort!"
"Oh no? So, how come you feel so guilty about my ancestor, huh? I know you, Sherlock and I've seen your face when you look at him. You're upsetting yourself over something. Will you talk about it, when we're away together? Honeymoons are meant to be about strengthening the relationship, after all."
Really? I thought honeymoons were so called because the newlyweds drank copious amounts of mead... Perhaps times have changed in that regard.
"Will you talk to me?" she repeats.
I nod and then give a sweeping bow. "For you, my dear lady, I shall do anything."
She thumps my arm, but it does not hurt. "Stop zedding about! I was being serious."
As was I and I say so. "My main objective, for quite some years now, has been to make you happy."
"Yeah, well, you can make me happiest by being honest with me -- no secrets, no lies. Got that?"
I nod solemnly.
"I know you well enough to know when something's up, anyway -- you'll only make me mad if you try to hide it," says she smugly.
This is in fact true enough.
"Supposing... I am hiding something, but it is pleasant and intended as a surprise for you?"
She raises an eyebrow. "Well, Sherlock, that's different. I'm talking about when you've got something on your mind and shut me out. I'm not going through that with you, OK?"
"You have made your point perfectly clear."
"Have I? Good! I've been trying to get it through to you since the day we met, so it'll be a zedding relief if you finally get it now. Hi, Jeremy! That was quick! All sorted?"
Jeremy nods and runs his hand through his damp hair. "The news men decided to go, once John backed me up. They weren't happy about it, though. Oh! And the rain's finally gone off. The only drops falling are off the trees, now."
"Great!" Beth leaps in the air. "Could you let the photographer know?"
The ground is still very wet, but I see that there are members of the church at work with brooms, sweeping the worst of it away, when I step outside. We shall soon be able to get the photographs which Beth wanted and hopefully without her beautiful dress being forced to pay for it.