*Hello lovelies. I know its been a while since I updated. I've been fighting my depression for the past week and its been a struggle. But I've kept throwing myself at this until it was finished because I know that there are people out there that are enjoying this story. If you're one of those people, I want to thank you. I also want to thank those that are following/favoriting this or any of my other stories. Its been giving me the drive to write more, even on my more difficult days. Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy this chapter. This does touch on some heavier/triggering material (suggestions of rape/PTSD) so if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, don't read. Feel free to leave me reviews/comments/questions. I'm always happy to answer. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you in the next chapter!

Chapter 7: Wedding Plans and Reconciliations

"Ooooh!" The women all said in unison as I stepped out of the dressing room. I blushed.

"Del, that dress is lovely!" Mary gushed.

"Agreed," Irene chimed in, looking me up and down. "That dress is perfect for you."

I turned to look at Molly. "Well? What do you think?"

"It does look very nice," she murmured. "What do you think Delilah?"

I looked at myself in the mirror. It was a beautiful ivory mermaid gown with lace sleeves and a lace back. I spun, watching as it flared out around me. I looked up into the mirror again, smiling. "I like it. A lot."

"So is this the one?" Mary asked, going to stand next to me, bringing the veil down over my face.

"Aye. I think this is the one."

The women all clapped and I returned once more into the dressing room to change back into my regular clothes. Mycroft had given me a blank check that morning and I felt myself tremble when the woman rang up my dress and fittings. If I'd had to buy this myself, it would've taken a year and a half to make enough money.

When I finished I met the other three outside, all talking and laughing. I gave them a small smile. "Where to next ladies?"

"We were thinking lunch," Irene replied, not looking up from her phone. "Girls day out. Where would you like to go?"

"I think I'm in the mood for Italian food," I answered.

We'd taken Mary's car and John had taken the cab to work. Sherlock had actually offered to watch little Sheryl, much to our surprise. Mary had protested, but I had done my best to reassure her that the baby would be fine in Sherlock's hands and that Mrs. Hudson was downstairs and would no doubt be keeping an eye and ear out. Mary had finally obliged, but she'd been on edge for most of the outing, texting Sherlock every twenty minutes. He'd begun to ignore her after the fourth check-up.

We all piled into the car. I took the passenger seat as Irene and Molly got into the back. Mary pulled away, joining the London traffic. As we rode, Molly asked, "So, Del, how have you been doing?"

I glanced up in the rearview mirror. "Oh, pretty well. I've been picking up more lessons at the school. Worked with Sherlock on a couple of cases, nothing major. And we've both been going crazy about this wedding and getting everything planned. We've still got to do the cake tasting and practice our first dance."

"That's good." Molly hesitated for a moment and I noticed that she had a look of embarrassment in her eyes. "I…I really was asking how you've been doing since March. I know that it must have been hard on you."

"Oh…" I looked down at my hands before looking back up into the mirror. "I…well, I suppose I'm doing as well as anyone can. I've really been trying to keep busy with…with other things."

"Have you spoken to your mother?" Irene asked and I felt my face flush.

"Irene! We said that we wouldn't bring it up yet!" Molly admonished. "Sorry Del."

"It's fine," I said, trying to hide the pain in my voice. "No, I haven't. And I won't until she decides to pick up the phone and talk to me. I can't say that I blame her. Her family was nearly killed. And in the minds of those who aren't as intelligent as the four of us in this car, they will continue to think that I am the one who caused it."

The entire car grew quiet and I bit my lip, trying to hide my anger. It had been so hard to not call the woman and tell her how foolish she was being. Sherlock had done it and that had not gone over well.

The sound of gunshots, bullets whizzing overhead. I watch the last man drop, blood floating behind him on the breeze in a fine red mist. More blood, streaked against the tile wall behind my mother as she falls to the floor. A blue-grey face looks up blankly towards the ceiling, body moving only with the chest compressions of John's hands. Please God spare her take me spare her take me spa-

Mary reached over, patting my knee. I jumped slightly. "They'll come 'round eventually. You'd be surprised."

"I mean, it's not like my mother and I haven't gone through this before." I could hear the bitterness in my voice. "The only thing I regret is not being able to explain it to the children."

"But it's not your fault! Your mother has to understand that!" Molly protested.

I turned in my seat, giving her a sad smile. "Unfortunately, as I said, not as intelligent as the four of us in this car. She won't ever understand that. Now, if we could leave this topic alone and get onto the real mystery in this car."

"And what mystery is that?" Mary asked, shooting me a sideways glance as she drove.

"The mystery of when those two in the back got together."

Molly gasped in the backseat, Irene chuckled softly, and Mary turned to stare at me in shock, eyes wide. I calmly turned to look out the windshield. "Mary, if you don't hit the brakes we're going to wreck."

She looked back at the road, swerving to avoid the car that we were about to rear end. She continued driving, but I could see the mixture of shock and curiosity on her face. Irene leaned forward, sticking her head between our seats, giving me a sly grin.

"How on earth did you figure it out? Did Sherlock tell you?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Sherlock didn't tell me anything. Although when I text him about it back at the bridal salon, he did confirm my suspicions for me. Do you really want to know how I figured it out?"

"Yes," all three women said at the same time, Mary pulling into a small parking lot behind the restaurant.

"Fine. Molly, when you came to the flat this morning, I noted that you were wearing a different perfume than what you normally wear. You are also wearing a very nice piece of lingerie, either a teddy or a bustier. I'm leaning more towards a teddy, seeing as you're the type to match the top with the bottom. I saw it twice, once when you took your jacket off at the flat and your shirt gapped in the front and the second time when you went to reach for the tea bags in the cabinet. That shade of pink is actually very pretty on you by the way. Anyway, when Irene came in, she was wearing the exact same perfume that you were."

"Also, the lipstick that you're wearing was smudged when you came in Molly, and there was a very faint stain of that same shade on Irene's jawline. She corrected this after first arriving, probably in hopes that Sherlock wouldn't see it and say something. When I stepped out of the dressing room in the third gown, you two were discreetly holding hands. I saw you two let go at the same time. Plus, you've been batting eyelashes at each other when you thought that others weren't looking. So…how long have you two been dating?"

Irene clapped her hands in glee while Molly's face grew bright red. "Oh, you are turning into him! How wonderful!"

"Wonderful?" Molly choked out. "Irene, this isn't how I wanted everyone to find out! We were going to tell them after the wedding."

"Well, the secret is out. I don't know why you thought that you could keep it from Sherlock or myself, especially when he has been training me every single moment of our free time." I looked at Mary, who still seemed to be processing all of the information. "Should we go and get lunch? We can discuss this over a nice ravioli and a glass of wine."

"Glass? I think I'll need a bottle," Molly muttered under her breath, getting out of the car and heading towards the restaurant.

"Will she be alright?" Mary asked Irene.

"Perfectly fine. I'll reassure her once we get home," Irene murmured, giving me a mischievous look before getting out of the car, following Molly.

"Well."

"Well."

"This has been…"

"Interesting," I finished, flashing Mary a smile. "Come on, let's go and get some food. We can talk about it over lunch. Are you going to tell John?"

"Of course!" Mary replied. "I think he should know about this, don't you?"

I laughed. "Yes, but maybe in person instead of over text. He might faint and you'll have to catch him."

"With this news? He just might."

We both got out of the car, going into the restaurant, finding Molly and Irene in a back booth sitting next to one another. Molly already had a glass of red wine in front of her and I laughed. "Couldn't even wait until we got to the table?"

"How? How did you know?" Her voice was pained and I frowned. I hadn't realized how upset she would be.

"I told you, Sherlock has been training me to observe. I'll never be as good as he is, but I'm getting better." I sat down on the opposite side of the couple, sliding over so that Mary could follow behind me. "So, how long have you two been together?"

"A little after you saw your father's body. It started out as friends and then blossomed from there," Irene answered, taking Molly's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay luv, don't be shy. We're among friends here."

"I…I suppose…it's still so new. We haven't told anyone yet." Irene took a deep breath. "You could say that Irene became my confidante. When I realized that she had no place to stay, I let her come and stay on my couch, much like Sherlock and John did for you. There was a bottle of wine one night and my complaining about how men were such pigs and-"

I held up a hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Don't need details. I'm glad to hear that you two are happy. That's all that matters to me."

"Me as well," Mary said with a soft smile. "So long as you two make each other happy and respect each other, we're here to support you."

The waiter walked up and we ordered our drinks, laughing and talking over the bottle zinfandel that Irene had chosen. We finished our lunch slightly tipsy, but much more relaxed than we had been when we'd arrived. Mary was sober enough to drive thankfully and we made it back to the flat. Irene and Molly left as soon as we arrived. Mary and I went upstairs to find Sherlock standing by the window, Sheryl cradled in his arms, music playing softly from the stereo.

"How is she?" Mary asked, crossing to Sherlock, going to take the baby from him. "Has she been alright?"

"Perfectly fine Mary," Sherlock replied. "I fed her, burped her, and changed her diaper. She was a bit fussy a little bit ago, but I calmed her down and put her back to sleep right before you walked in."

"Thank you Sherlock," Mary said with a smile. "I knew I could trust you."

"No you didn't. It's why you sent me no less than thirty-seven text messages in the time that you and Lila were gone. She is safe and fed." Sherlock stared into her face. "You've had a drink."

"We all did," I answered, going to sit on the couch, my head spinning from the alcohol. "We went and grabbed a late lunch and had some wine. Mary was sober enough to drive us home. And now we're here. I've got the dress and I got Molly and Irene to confess that they're seeing one another."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, well, Mary, I can't let you drive with a baby in the car if you've had any alcohol until I am completely certain that you're sober."

"Sherlock, I'm fine!" Mary protested, putting the baby in the carrier. "I had one glass. I'm completely fine."

"Your cheeks are rosy, your eyes ever so slightly glassed over. How big a glass of wine was it?"

"Sherlock. I am not drunk. I'm not even tipsy." Mary straightened up. "I'll perform a test right now if you want me to prove my sobriety. Honestly, if you think that I would drive drunk with my baby in the car, you're out of your mind."

Sherlock smiled. "That was my test. You're fine Mary. I wanted to see how you would react. All within normal parameters for you." Sherlock pressed a kiss to her cheek before bending down, pressing a kiss to Sheryl's head. "Bring the baby by some time soon. She and I were bonding over the violin."

Mary nodded, lifting the carrier before turning to look at me. "Are you going to be fine? You had more wine than I did."

I gave her a small smile, getting up and giving her a hug. "I'll be alright. It was only three glasses. Thank you so much for helping me today. I appreciate it."

"No problem Del," Mary replied, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Don't be a stranger. I expect a phone call after the cake tasting."

A phone call. His voice ringing in my ear. May as well make your last phone calls...wind rips at me and the rain and wind tears at me. Fear rises up in my chest as I struggle to find a way off. Heat flashes across my back, hot white pain searing my skin. Numbers burn into my mind. 1:30 in brilliant red. Why don't you just die? Just die? J-

"Del?" Mary asked, brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"

I felt Sherlock turn his gaze onto me and I forced a smile, looking at Mary. "Of course! Sorry, was a bit...a bit lost in thought. So much to do and so little time."

"I completely understand," Mary said with a laugh. "Anyway, I'll be in touch. I'll bring Sheryl by next week." Mary left after that, giving me a worried backwards glance, leaving Sherlock, Scarlett, and I standing in the living room. Sherlock looked me up and down. "So, what sort of gown did you choose?"

"I'm not telling you," I replied, going to sit at the desk, opening my laptop. "It's going to be a surprise."

"You know I could always ask my brother."

I smiled. "I think you'd find that this may be one of the few things that your brother and I agree on." I opened the document I was working on, reading over what I had written. "Sherlock, have you worked on your vows at all?"

"I was planning on it. I've been a bit busy with the caterer and the wedding cake design. Have you looked over the seating chart like I asked you to?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes Sherlock, I have."

"Did you really or are you trusting me to have made sure it was right?"

"I glanced over it last night," I grumbled. "It seemed fine to me."

Sherlock sighed. "Delilah, you do have to put effort into this wedding."

I looked up at him from my laptop, eyes narrowing. "I am putting in effort Sherlock. I'm sorry that I can't devote as much time to it as you can, seeing as I'm working at the clinic, trying to set up a self-defense class for women at the school, teaching classes for George as he can't be bothered to do it anymore, and still trying to track down my sister. I've been busy and this is the first day off I've had in almost a month and a half. Give me a little bit of a break. I got the gown and I'm working on my vows."

"You should stop working at the clinic," Sherlock stated calmly, going to sit across from me at his own laptop. "It's a waste of your time and energy. And it's not like we need the money anyway. I make enough working cases. Plus, you could start charging for your classes instead of doing them for free."

I raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. "I enjoy working at the clinic. You know this."

"Yes, I do. But I also know that it's taking its toll on you physically." Sherlock reached out to take my hand. "Lila, you are exhausting yourself and I know that it's because you don't want to deal with the things that have happened. But if we're going to find your sister and Moriarty then I need you at full strength." I pulled my hand away, leaning back in my chair. "Will you at least think about it? Please?"

"Fine," I muttered. "I need some time."

"Alright." Sherlock turned to his computer screen. "I'm going to work on the vows now. If you could go and actually look at the seating chart on the fridge that would be fantastic."

I got up from the desk, legs wobbling for a moment from the alcohol. Sherlock looked up at me, slightly amused. "What's the matter? Too much wine?"

"Perhaps. I haven't had alcohol since Valentine's last year."

"Do you remember what happened that night?" Sherlock questioned, not looking up from his screen. "You never did tell me."

Sharp pain in the back of my head, black eyes peering down at me, standing next to Olivia. I know the name, but I can't say it as the darkness takes over my mind. Waking up with my entire body throbbing, a ball-gag shoved in my mouth, hands groping for my naked body, tears streaming down my face. Sherlock, help me please. Help me. SHERLOCK!

"Lila?"

I jerked in my seat, glancing up at Sherlock across the table. His brow was furrowed as he stared at me. I let out a shaky breath before saying, "I'll tell you if you tell me how you survived the fall."

Sherlock frowned. "You wouldn't understand it if I did."

"Then you won't know what happened the night I left," I replied, walking into the kitchen to look at the seating chart. "How many guests are we looking at total?"

"About eighty-five to ninety-five, depending on how many of your family show up. Two of your aunts and uncles have confirmed, as well as a half-dozen of your cousins. Honestly, how many family members do you?"

"Enough," I replied, looking at the seating chart, rearranging a few of my cousins. "More than enough actually."

'You're a fool, you know that?' Olivia whispered in my ear and I shook myself, trying to focus on the seating chart. 'You're a fool and you shouldn't be having a wedding. You should be dead. Tell me, did you miss me?'

"Shut up," I growled, closing my eyes, trying to focus. "You're not here. You're in my head. Just shut up."

'Why don't you just die?' Moriarty now whispered. 'Why don't you just die? Just let us kill you. It'll be quick. Painless even. Your mother hates you, you and Sherlock do nothing but play deductions and argue about who's right. Mary and John are always busy. Why don't you just die?'

"Shut UP!" I shouted, ripping the seating chart off of the fridge, throwing it to the ground.

"Lila?" Sherlock asked from behind me. "What's the matter?"

Heat on my back. Scrambling to my feet to run despite the pain. The numbers on the clock read a minute thirty. I am going to die. I am going to die. Going to die. Going to-

"Lila, you are not there. You are here. You are here and you are safe." Sherlock had grabbed me by my shoulders and was kneeling in front of me. I hadn't realized that I'd fallen to the floor. "Listen to me. You are here in the flat with me. We're going over wedding plans. You are safe."

"Sherlock?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me." He pulled me into his arms and I began to cry. "It's me. It's me. I was worried this might happen if you had alcohol."

"I'm sorry. I'm being ridiculous."

"No, you're not." He pulled me tighter against him as I wept. "What's the matter?"

"It's nothing. The alcohol and the fact that I haven't spoken to my therapist in a couple of weeks make it so that I'm a bit more...vulnerable to flashbacks." I wiped at my eyes, pushing away from Sherlock. "I'm fine. Really."

"Lila...if this is too much for you-"

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." I got to my feet, going to escape to the bathroom. "I need a minute to compose myself is all. Then I'll get back to the seating chart."

I locked myself in before he could say anything else and I leaned against the wall, focusing on my breathing, trying to regain control. I tried to focus on a happy memory, something, anything to block out their voices. I couldn't focus, their voices were too loud in my mind. I sank to the floor, head cradled in my hands, rocking back and forth.

'Too much wine. Too much stimulation. Go to your Library.' The cold voice in my head muttered. I could hear it despite Olivia and Moriarty screaming in my brain. 'Go. They won't leave you alone until you get control again.'

I was standing in front of the doors, pushing them open. The shelves were shaking all around me, the books falling off the shelves, their voices screaming at me from all directions. I felt weak and shaky as I crossed the room, trying to make it outside. I knew as soon as I did that, I would be able to gain control. A book flew off the shelf, striking me in the side of my head, driving me to my knees. I let out a cry of terror as the two of them appeared, circling me like hungry sharks, Olivia's eyes emerald flames and Moriarty's sparkling obsidian. Both of them were fueled by insanity.

There's pounding at the door. "Lila? Lila, unlock the door. Unlock the door or I will kick it in!"

I begin to crawl towards the French doors, trying desperately to make it to peace as they kicked at me, hurling insults. I sobbed, curling into a ball, trying to protect myself. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Why?" Olivia laughed. "You opened the flood gates. You let us in. Weak already and drinking alcohol made it so much easier to break into here. Don't you like our visits? Don't you like us coming to see you in every dream?"

"Delilah, open this door right now or I swear I will break it down."

"Come on," Moriarty crooned in my ear. "You know you want to end it all. The gun, the blade, the noose. End it all, make it easy."

"No!" I cried, forcing myself to begin crawling again. The door was so close.

"Why won't you stay down?" My sister shrieked in my ear, trying to stand in my way. I shoved at her legs, forcing myself forward.

"I'm not…going to be held down."

I struggled to my knees, my hand gripping the door handle. Moriarty gripped me by my hair, yanking me back to look into those manic black eyes. "Why don't you just die?"

"Why don't you you son-of-a-bitch?" I growled, throwing myself from his grip and outside into the garden. I lay in the soft grass, hearing the blessed silence of my mind, the wind blowing through the trees. "Thank you. Oh God, thank you."

I closed my eyes, ignoring the crash in the bathroom as Sherlock burst in. I opened them again to find him kneeling next to me, a look of anxiousness on his face. "Sherlock…you broke the door."

"Why wouldn't you answer me?" Sherlock demanded.

"I was thinking."

"Thinking? Delilah, I thought you were dying in here. You were screaming and sobbing. Scared Scarlett half to death."

"I'm fine. Well, I'm fine now," I answered, sitting up slowly. "Can we go to bed?"

Sherlock picked me up in his arms. "You're going to rest on the couch while I work where I can see you. I'll let Mrs. Hudson know that she needs to send a repairman for the door." He carried me to the couch, setting me down gently. "Now, you rest and no more alcohol for you until you see your therapist."

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry I scared you," I murmured, feeling my eyes drooping from the alcohol and exhaustion.

"You didn't."

"Liar," I whispered, snuggling under the blanket that Sherlock had covered me in.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Prove it."


I woke up hours later to a twilight filled room, Sherlock still hunched over his computer, the lamplight behind him casting a soft golden glow around him. I sat up slowly, rubbing at my head, trying to fight against the headache behind my eyes.

"Mrs. Hudson's repair man will be here tomorrow to fix the door. I told John that you wouldn't be in to the clinic tomorrow, and you have an appointment with your therapist at eleven-thirty tomorrow morning." Sherlock picked up his phone, glancing at it before tossing it back onto the desk. "Why must writing this be so difficult?"

"I'm going to the clinic tomorrow." I got to my feet, going to stand next to him. "I don't need to see my therapist."

"Delilah," Sherlock's voice was soft and I could tell that he was restraining himself. "You had a nervous breakdown today from lack of sleep and God knows what else. You need to go. I don't even like therapists and I believe that you could benefit from one."

"Sherlock, I am fine."

"You are not fine!" Sherlock rose to his feet, going to stand in front of me. "You're still struggling to eat, you work out constantly. Last week I saw you bandaging your knuckles because of the bruises and cuts. You're limping from the blisters on the backs of your ankles from all your runs. You have dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep and when you do sleep you're tossing and turning, crying and shouting. You don't remember a lot of them, but I do because you're drenched in sweat and looking around wildly as if they're trying to kill you."

"Sherlock…"

"You forget that I see everything Delilah, especially now that John and Mycroft have opened my eyes." He began to pace the room. "You can't sit in one spot for more than ten minutes at a time before you have to do something or begin to fidget. In the past you could sit for hours with me in the same room and not move at all. There have been a few times where a car has back-fired and I've found evidence that you threw yourself to the ground to protect yourself. You got rid of every digital clock in the flat besides our phones because they remind you of the timers on the bombs." Sherlock reached out to touch me and I flinched away. "But that…that is the most telling sign of all."

"Telling sign of what?"

"That something is very wrong with you Delilah and that you need help. I was once your dark haired angel and your protector. Now you struggle to even let me touch you, look at you." There was pain and frustration in his voice. "I haven't held you properly since Sheryl was born. I haven't made love to you since that night. I've wanted to and yet you push me away. And I don't understand why."

My lower lip began to tremble and I turned away from him, going to the window. "I am different Sherlock. Changed. All of this death, all of this destruction. All of the wounds and scars. I'm ugly now, deformed. Broken."

I swallowed hard, staring out at the streets. I didn't know what Sherlock would say, what he could say. More than likely, he was going to call off the wedding, tell me to leave the flat, never come back. I wouldn't be surprised if he did. He needed a peaceful place, one where he could be alone and think instead of being surrounded by my chaos. That's why I was surprised when he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against him.

"Delilah…I too am different. I am a robot, a freak, a sociopath. These people aren't wrong when they call me those names. But we can't let that change the people we are and what we've become because of each other." He pressed a kiss to my neck and I shuddered. "You have changed me in ways that I didn't think were possible. I could care less how many scars you have on your body, how much weight you gain or lose, how much your mind changes and warps and grows. I'm enjoying watching you grow and I want to enjoy watching you conquer your demons."

"You don't…you don't think the scars are ugly? You don't think me deformed?"

"For what?"

"You've seen them."

"Do you want me to talk about them then? Would that make you feel better, for me to acknowledge every mark on your body?"

"I want to know that you actually see it."

His hands reached under my shirt, fingers brushing against every blemish. "Seven whip marks from your captivity in the warehouse when Desmond was beating you. Burns all across the back that are fading slowly with the cream that you put on every night. Two burns, one on each side of your rib cage. A bullet wound on your lower abdomen, a slight scar down your chest where they cut you from your bra. Burns across your thighs." Sherlock pressed another kiss, this time to my shoulder as he lifted my shirt up. "And I love every single inch. Each scar, each mark, each blemish are all testaments to how brave and strong you are Delilah."

I turned to look at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, resting my forehead against his. "Do you mean that Sherlock?"

"Do you think that I would say that if I didn't?"

"No. You wouldn't waste your breath if you didn't mean it." I pressed a kiss to his lips, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

"There you go thanking people again."

I smiled. "It's a habit that I'll never break. Now why don't we-"

My phone began to ring in the kitchen and I pulled away from Sherlock, looking down at the caller ID in shock. I answered it quickly. "Mother?"

"It's me Delilah," Donald was hesitant on the phone. "Your mother doesn't know that I called." "Why did you call?" Sherlock's hand rested on my shoulder. "Its been almost three months. The way I understood it, you two were both going to forget that I even existed."

I walked down the hall, beginning to pace, Scarlett walking next to me. "Yes, well, that was before Maximus and Madeleine began to pester us about seeing you. I tried to explain to them that you two weren't...weren't safe to be around, but they wouldn't hear it."

"Why's that? Because they realized that we're not the bad guys?" My temper was rising and I did my best to reign it in, not wanting to end the first phone call I'd had with them since March on a bad note. "What made you change your mind?"

"Maximus told me that if it hadn't been for you, they would have died. Madeleine agrees, saying that you four are her heroes." I could hear the frown in his voice. "Look, your mother and I are coming up to London for business this weekend. Would you care to meet us for coffee?"

"Will you tell her that I'm going to meet you all?"

"No," he replied. "She won't come if she knows that we're going to see you. She's not happy with you, especially after your fiancé called her."

"I'd say sorry about that, but I won't lie. You two were being bloody idiots."

"Let's save the name-calling for a later date. Coffee on Saturday around twelve-thirty sound good to you?"

"Sure. Text me the name of the place later. I'll see you then."

I hung up the phone, staring out the window of our bedroom. Sherlock was standing behind me and I sighed. "You heard that entire conversation I'm guessing?"

"Yes."

"And? What are your thoughts and feelings on it?"

"It's strange. But if they're willing to try then we'll meet them."

I frowned. "I don't know...something seems off about the entire thing."

He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. "It will be fine. Coffee and a calm discussion as adults. You're still wired from earlier. Don't worry. Please."

I sighed, turning to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I know. I'm sorry. If you say it'll be fine, then it'll be fine. I just...I want to be able to see Max and Maddie again. I miss them. They're sweet children."

"They are. Delilah, may I ask you something?"

"Certainly. What would you like to ask?" We began to sway back and forth with one another to a non-existent tune.

"Well, we've talked about children before. I was wondering...you and I aren't getting any younger obviously. Do you...do you want to start trying after we're married?" My eyes widened and his face grew alarmed. "If you don't it's fine, I completely understand. After all, we're not even married yet and-"

I kissed him passionately, stopping him mid-sentence. He pulled me closer to him and I finally broke away, smiling up at him. "Sherlock, why do you think that I would object to that? Of course I want to start a family with you."

"Really?"

"Yes really," I laughed. "Why wouldn't I want to have brilliant black-haired, galaxy eyed children with you?"

"Impossible. Our children will have dark hair and your dark brown eyes. My hair is dominant, but my eye color recessive. Your eye color is dominant and mine recessive. It's simple genetics really." Sherlock smiled as I rolled my eyes. "Well, I mean, there is the very rare chance that one of them will look exactly like me, but I doubt we'd want that. I believe the world could only handle one of me."

I touched his cheek, giving him a gentle smile. "Sherlock, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I'll tell you in our vows. Why don't we go and have our own reconciliation before Saturday?" He eyed the bed and I laughed.

"If it would make you happy Sherlock, I am all yours for the night."


I left therapy, wiping at my eyes. It had been a very difficult session and it had ended with me in a hysterical heap backed into a corner. But she had been patient and had calmed me down enough to where I could function once more. In my jacket pocket was a prescription for paroxetine, an antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication. It had come highly recommended, but I was still unsure of it. I'd have to do quite a bit of research before I filled the prescription.

A sign caught my eye as I walked and I stopped in front of the building, looking inside. It was a hair salon. Getting my hair done for the wedding had been on my to-do list. And I still had three hours before the cake tasting with Sherlock. I checked the wallet in my pocket, finding that I still had a good portion of my last paycheck in there. I walked in the door, going up to the front desk. The woman behind the counter seemed like a kind young woman with brilliant violet hair.

'Married, two cats, four months pregnant, first child. Working two jobs. Husband works in the automotive industry. In school for law, working here until she can find another job.'

I gave her a smile. "How are you doing today?"

"Just fine. Yourself?"

"Not too bad. I was wondering, would you all happen to have any availabilities? I know I'm a walk-in, but my wedding is in a few months and I really need to get my haircut." The woman glanced back at the other stylists before typing away at her computer.

"Let's see. Veronica should be finishing with her client in about twenty minutes and it looks like her next wouldn't be until four. I think we could fit you in. How long have you and your fiancé been engaged?"

"Roughly a year," I answered. "How long have you and your husband been married?"

She flushed, giving me a smile. "We've been married for three years now. We've-"

"Got a little one on the way. I noticed. How are your studies going?"

The woman looked at me curiously. "I'm sorry, have we met before? I don't remember you."

"We haven't," I answered calmly, hands clasped behind my back.

"Then how did you know?"

"A party trick of mine."

I went to go sit down when she grabbed my wrist. "Seriously. How did you know? Half the girls here haven't even figured out that I'm pregnant and no one here knows I'm going to school."

"Contents of your bag behind your desk. You have two books that I studied when I was in university studying law. You also have prenatal vitamins in there. Your trash can has a small bit of vomit down the side of it, meaning that when you came in this morning, you didn't have time to make it to the restroom. Even though you're wearing makeup I can see the acne." I smiled. "Also, the corner of your homework from last night is haphazardly tucked under the other papers on your desks. So what are you studying?"

Her eyes were wide with shock, but she managed to say, "I want to be a barrister. I know it's going to be difficult with a little one, but its been my dream since I was a child."

I smiled. "Keep going for it then. Give them someone to look up to growing up. It'll be difficult, but you can do it. Here," I dug through my wallet, finding a worn and tattered card from my days at the law firm. "Go to them once you've graduated. Tell them Delilah McKinley sent you. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to take you in. At the very least they'll point you in the right direction."

She took the card from me. "Thank you. This was very kind from you. I'm Carissa."

"I hope that helps you and the baby Carissa. I'll give you my number once my haircut is done. If you have any questions about your studies, feel free to call me." The woman named Veronica was approaching the reception desk with her customer. "You'll do fine."

The stylist rang out her customer before taking me to the back, sitting me down in the chair. "So what'll it be for you t'day luv?"

"I want all of it off."

The woman ran her fingers through my hair. "All of it?"

"Aye, all of it except for a bit on the front, like bangs. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure. You're positive that you want to cut all of your hair off? I heard you talking to Rissa, about you getting married soon. Won't he-"

"Please. Cut my hair off. All of it."

"Whatever you want."

I closed my eyes as she began to cut my hair. Hopefully Sherlock hadn't been lying when he'd said that he'd liked my short hair.

I left the salon about a half hour later, having given Clarissa my number before leaving. I kept running my fingers through the bangs that the stylist had given me. It had been a shock seeing it in the mirror, but I'd liked it. It had made my features pop and the bangs could hide one eye or the other, giving me a bit of mystery. Plus, short hair meant that it wouldn't get caught on anything.

I walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool air blowing by. It was only a thirty minute walk to the bakery we'd chosen and I was in no hurry. A man began to keep pace beside me and I glanced over, smiling. "Sherlock, you are really going to need to work on your disguises. A fake moustache, changing your gait, and wearing one of John's old jumpers does not qualify."

"I thought I was doing so well too," he grumbled, tossing the fake moustache to the ground as we walked. "Mrs. Hudson didn't know it was me."

"Mrs. Hudson was more than likely humoring you dear."

"So what sort of disguise are you trying to take on by cutting all your hair off?" He asked, stripping off the jumper, revealing his purple button down shirt underneath.

"No disguise," I replied, taking his hand as he threw away the jumper. "You mentioned once that you liked my hair short."

"I do."

"Well, I cut it short for you and our wedding. It should be easier to manage and I'll go back to get a trim two weeks before we're married. And now we don't need to find a hair stylist. I can do everything at home." I looked at Sherlock for approval. "You do like it, don't you?"

"No. I don't." I winced, opening my mouth to retort. "I adore it. It brings out all of your loveliest features. I'm glad you decided to cut it."

I smiled. "I'm glad you like it. I was worried that you were lying to me."

"Since when have I lied to you?" I raised an eyebrow. "Never mind. Don't answer that question."

"I was going to say, would you like a document, a spreadsheet, or a slide-show?"

He opened the door for me and I stepped in. "You know, I don't lie to you as much as I do to other people."

"Well that's reassuring," I could see him smile at the sarcasm in my voice.

"You'll catch on to my lies too quickly. I don't bother with you anymore. When you came home from the hospital that proved to me that you catch on quickly." We approached the counter and Sherlock looked at the woman. "We're here to taste-test your cake."

"Do you have an appointment?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course we do. It will be under Sherlock Holmes."

The woman froze. "Sh-Sherlock Holmes? The famous consulting detective?"

He sighed. "Yes. I suppose I should have expected this."

I giggled. "Pardon him. He's a bit cranky. Hasn't had his midday nap yet."

"That means you're Janine, right?"

I wrinkled my nose. "No, I'm not. I keep forgetting that that bitch plastered her face all over the tabloids. I'm Delilah, his real fiancé."

"Pardon me miss. I'm only going by what-"

"You read in those trashy papers. Yes, I can tell. Now, is everything ready or will we have to wait longer?"

"The private room is ready. In it you'll find the twenty-two varieties of cake we offer. We can do up to seven tiers of cake and we can mix-and-match any kind that you'd like. If you have any questions, I'll be right outside the door. If you'll follow me."

She led us to a small room in the back, sunlight pouring in from the windows and skylights, flowers and greenery everywhere. On small circular tables were slices of cake, placards sitting in front of each plate. "As I said, if you all have any questions or decide what sort of cake you'd like, I'll be just outside the door."

The woman closed us in and I looked at all of the options. "So...where should we start?"

"Well, I can tell you that I don't want chocolate," Sherlock answered, going to flip the placards down of each chocolate cake variety. "This leaves us with fourteen different flavors to try."

"What about red velvet? That's not chocolate, but not vanilla either." I flipped the placard back up for that one.

"I've never had it."

"Then how do you know that you don't want to try it?"

He sighed. "Fine, we'll try it. Why don't we start with this one?"

We tried all fifteen different flavors and decided on a four layer cake, the base being vanilla cake with strawberry buttercream, the next tier another vanilla, this time with fresh raspberries, the third was a hazelnut-almond layer with caramel buttercream, and the last, surprisingly, was a red velvet layer with cream cheese frosting. We left the room, Sherlock handing her the placards, as well as a small note that he wouldn't let me see.

"Can you do that for the wedding?" He asked and I craned my neck to see the note, but he blocked my view.

"We'll do our best sir. You're certain that that's what you'd like as your layers."

"Very certain. You have my phone number?" The woman nodded to Sherlock. "Give me a call if you have any questions then."

"Wait, Sherlock, I think I left my wallet in the room." Sherlock sighed. "Miss, would you mind looking for it with me?"

"Sure."

"I'll be outside waiting." Sherlock left the store and I entered the small private room again.

"I don't know what he gave you and I don't want to know. Obviously he wanted it to be a surprise. But how much would it cost to do a small cake for him?"

"What kind?"

"Another red velvet. He seemed to really like that flavor. But, there was something special I wanted you to do for it."

"And what would that be?"

"Could you make it look like a deerstalker cap?"

The woman laughed. "We can do that."


I sat next to Sherlock in the cab, looking out the window. It was a rainy Saturday for London, windy as well, or else Sherlock and I would have walked to the cafe. Instead my fingers were drumming out a rhythm on my lap and my eyes were travelling from person to person, doing my best to deduce things about them before we sped by.

"Stop deducing," Sherlock said, not looking up from the newspaper he'd brought with him. "You're no good at it when you're nervous."

I sighed, sitting back in the seat. "I suppose you're right. I want this to be over with."

"We don't have to go," he answered, scanning over an article that had seemingly caught his eye. "I could call Donald and tell him you've fallen ill. Or we could not show up."

I shook my head, going to run my fingers through my hair before I remembered that I'd cut it. "No…it has to be done, if only for Maddie and Max. I miss them."

"Yes, I know."

"Don't you?"

Sherlock folded up his paper, frowning. "In a way. They were fun to tell stories to. And Max seemed like he was willing to learn about everything, much like Archie."

The cab pulled up to the curb and I got out, waiting patiently for Sherlock. I glanced inside the café, finding them in the back corner, my mother's back to us, Donald looking out the window nervously. He spotted me and quickly turned to speak with my mother, glancing up at me from time to time. We walked in, going directly to their table.

"Room for two more?" I murmured, standing next to them.

My mother looked up at me and I could see the sheer rage wash over her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her coffee mug tight in her hand. "What the fuck are you two doing here? I told you to keep away from my family!"

"We were invited here," Sherlock answered, grabbing two chairs from a nearby table, placing them down for us to sit. He blocked my mother into the booth. "We want to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about here and no one invited you. I made my point very clear that I wanted nothing to do with you two psychopaths!"

"Actually, I am a high-functioning sociopath. Do a bit of research if you don't know what that is. Your daughter is one of the kindest and most caring women I know. God knows where she got that from seeing as you are being a royal bitch. And to answer your question as to who invited us here, you need only look across the table at your husband." Sherlock took my hand as my mother turned her venom-filled glare onto Donald.

"We agreed that we would never go near these two ever again. I could care less if she rotted in a hole somewhere."

"Well, this has been a fun discussion," I said, going to get up. Donald grabbed my hand. "Let go of me."

"Sit, Delilah. I wish to speak with you." Donald turned his gaze onto my mother. "Gwen, if you are going to be difficult then I am going to ask you to leave. They are my children, not yours, and if I decide that they should be allowed to visit Sherlock and Delilah, then it is my decision. If you can keep your mouth shut and be respectful, you can stay. Which will it be?"

My mother pursed her lips before sitting back in the booth. "It's not like I can get out with Mr. Detective blocking the way. I'll sit and listen."

"Good. Now, when did you and Sherlock want to see Maximus and Madeleine again?"

"Well, we were hoping that all of you would come to our wedding. I know that you received the invitation. I would love to have them there." I tried to keep my voice calm, but I could hear the pleading tone. "If you and my mother don't wish to attend I understand. I can come down the night before and bring them back with me. They can stay with us and Sherlock and I will drop them off when we depart for our honeymoon."

"No. We are not going to your wedding. That's asking to get shot!"

"Gwen!" Donald snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. "I'm not giving you another chance. Behave or so help me God I will divorce you tomorrow."

The air was tense at the table and my mother glanced at me, glaring before settling down once more. "Fine dearest husband. Whatever you wish."

Donald turned back to me. "The wedding is when?"

"September. I'll resend the invitation."

"All of us will be there then."

"I need a cigarette," my mother said, poking at Sherlock's knee. "Get out of my way."

Sherlock moved, letting my mother out, watching as she walked out. "I believe I need a cigarette as well."

He got up, leaving Donald and I to sit there awkwardly. I looked down at my hands before looking up at him. "I am truly sorry about what happened to all of you. Especially Max and Maddie. I would have never-"

Donald held up a hand, taking a sip of his coffee before saying, "I've spent quite a few nights thinking about it. I've also spent quite a few days in therapy. Being tied up with a bomb strapped to your chest and then your two children nearly drowning…that will do a number on anyone. And I thought long and hard. You and Sherlock didn't have to rescue us. You could have left us to die. Instead, you risked your lives to get us. What was it you were chanting as your two friends were…were saving Madeleine?"

"Spare her…take me…" I murmured, blinking rapidly. "If anyone deserved to die, it was me, not her. Those children…they're important to me. They're…they're my family. All of you are. It broke my heart…but I understood why. You had to protect them."

"Well, I realized how foolish it was, my trying to protect them. There's obviously someone a bit more capable of doing it than I am." Donald offered me a smile and I smiled back. "You'd do anything for my children. I see that now. Which is why I am apologizing to you for being a blind idiot and not realizing this sooner."

"Thank you," I choked out and he handed me a handkerchief. I dabbed at the corners of my eyes. "You've no idea how much…how much this means to me. I've missed them."

"I know you have. And they've missed you. I can't wait for your wedding."

"Neither can I." I turned as I heard the bell above the door ring, watching as Sherlock and my mother walked back in, my mother's eyes red-rimmed, Sherlock looking uncomfortable. "I suppose their conversation went about the same as ours did."

As my mother approached, she began crying again and pulled me into a hug, holding me tight to her. I looked up at Sherlock, confused by this change of heart. He shrugged, sitting back down in his seat. My mother and I stood like that for a few minutes and I awkwardly patted her on the back, my face growing redder as more people began to look at us. She finally stepped back, looking at me.

"I'm so sorry Del."

"So am I," I replied. "Now, why don't we sit and enjoy some coffee?"

We all settled in and had a long chat. My phone rang and I looked at it, opening the message. I did my best to keep my composure as I read it. I looked up at them. "Well, its been nice sharing this moment with you all. But Sherlock and I have a few other things that we need to take care of for this wedding. I'll resend your invitation and mark you down as attending. Call you soon?"

"Any time you need to sweetheart," my mother replied, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "I'm always here for you."

"Thank you," was all I said as I got up from the table, walking out of the café, Sherlock following behind.

"What did they say?"

"There are three more letters left. C, K, and H. Can we guess who it could be?"

"Did they give any clues?"

"Not a single damn one. But Moriarty says that he's cashing in the I of his IOU. What do you think he means by that?"

"I don't know," Sherlock replied. "But whatever it is…it isn't going to be good."

We got into the cab and I looked out at the city as it passed by. What could my sister and her husband be planning? And who would it hurt this time?