For better, For worse,
For richer, For poorer…
Sherlock woke up early, busying himself with preparing Molly's breakfast – toast, orange juice and, much to his discomfort, jam – trying not to dwell on the conversation he and Molly shared last night. Well…I succeeded, I suppose. Molly's right, we do not need rings to show our love. Although, Molly Holmes does sound wonderful. Shaking his head and moving into the living room,Sherlock sighed irritably when he noticed the paper on the floor with another exaggerated story printed on the front page. The picture this time was of himself and John with a wavy line separating them. Rolling his eyes, Sherlock braced himself.
IS THIS THE END OF THE DYNAMIC DUO?
Between wedding plans and baby drama, it seems John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are seeing less and less of each other-
"Morning. What's she saying this time?"
Sherlock shook his head and threw the paper to John, allowing him to catch up; John often came by to hang out or to check on Molly. He chuckled slightly at the heading and moved to the sofa, speaking in a low voice so as not to wake Molly; he didn't want another lecture from Sherlock about Molly needing her sleep.
"Well, one thing's for sure…this Kitty Riley needs new sources. She clearly doesn't know we're all meeting up to discuss the wedding..." John glanced towards the detective who had moved to the window and was avoiding John's gaze. John swallowed, "so…how did it go?"
Sherlock shrugged and also kept his voice low; he had started pacing. John bowed his head and settled into the cushions. Not good?
"Very well. Rather too well, in fact. Molly doesn't want marriage."
John tutted and folded his arms, fixing the rather frustrated looking Sherlock with a relaxed stare.
"Come on, Sherlock. What woman doesn't want to marry the man they love? She probably didn't know what else to say."
"I hope you are correct."
Molly was sitting up in bed, surrounded by pillows; Sherlock was, once again, adamant she was completely comfortable. Molly bit her lip as she waited for Mary to answer her phone. She had to talk to her, get her advice.
"Hello?"
"Mary, hi. Listen-"
"Morning, Mol. How are you feeling?"
Molly sighed in frustration before relaxing, a small smile on her face and her free hand caressing her bump.
"Well…my muscles ache, my feet are killing me and my back is sore but apart from that…I'm excited more than anything…"
"You ought to be careful…all that work can't be good for you…"
Molly sighed and tilted her head as her neck was growing stiff.
"You sound like Sherlock. Don't worry, I'm fine…"
Mary rolled her eyes and swallowed nervously as Molly continued what she was saying before the interruption.
"Anyway, I need your advice. Sherlock told me last night he didn't want to get married…"
Mary bit her lip and hesitated before mumbling 'mhmm'. She, of course, knew this; John kept nothing from her. Molly frowned but continued nevertheless, leaning further back into the pillows.
"I didn't know what else to say…so I told him neither did I. What do I do?"
Mary shook herself. No…I promised John. I've done this before, opened my big mouth and almost destroyed my friendship with Molly not to mention her entire relationship. This one I am staying out of…
"Um…well…you still love him, right?"
"Yes. Always. No matter what."
Mary nodded to herself. I'm sorry, John.
"Oh, Molly…I promised I wouldn't say…but he does want to marry you. Of course he does…but you know Sherlock's brain. Weird…genius, certainly but weird. He wanted it to be a surprise…he thought that story would make you wary."
Molly was grinning broadly as happy tears filled her eyes. Oh, thank god. Sometimes, Mary's inability to keep secrets was quite good. She glanced down lovingly at her hand and rounder stomach and could do nothing to stop the smile.
"Molly…are you alright? Did I do the right thing?"
"Yes. Yes, I am fine. Thank you, Mary. I'll see you at lunch later."
"Yeah! Can't wait. I'll see you then…I've got a surprise for you!"
Molly hung up the phone and smiled widely for a moment, staring at her bump with a shake of her head.
"Oh, I love your daddy so much."
John lifted his head to see Sherlock pacing carefully, avoiding all of the creaky floorboards. He spoke in a quiet whisper, avoiding John's gaze.
"Have you made any plans at all yet?"
John bit his lip and ran a nervous hand through his hair. Sherlock ignored this; a nervous habit. But, why-
"Well…yeah, actually. I've got my best man in mind. He just needs to agree…"
Sherlock nodded, pondering who on Earth John could have selected at this early stage. Lestrade? Do they get on that well? John has no brothers. Does he perhaps get on with a brother of Mary's? She doesn't have any, so- Sherlock stopped suddenly when he became aware John was staring intently at him as though waiting for an answer. Then, it hit him…
"Me?"
"It goes without saying, doesn't it?"
Sherlock shook his head and settled into his chair, drumming his fingers agitatedly.
"John…I am flattered but I cannot. You should find someone more deserving."
John blinked in confusion before shaking his head, grinning broadly.
"Don't worry…we'll spare you the speech. It's not mandatory, it's our day, Sherlock…besides," the detective looked unsure, a deep frown on his face and John began tapping his knee subconsciously, sighing irritably, "…I'm not getting married without my best man."
Sherlock glanced at his friend; he had never seen him looking so sure of anything before, apart from the night he had met Mary. Sherlock swallowed and nodded slowly, an overwhelming number of emotions rushing to him.
"Thank you."
John smiled widely and gave a short nod. Sherlock gave a weak half-smile, still coming to terms with accepting his emotional side. There were a few moments of awkward silence until the bedroom door swung open and Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Hmmm…I suppose she can have a nap later if she wishes. Molly noticed her breakfast on the table and the happy tears filled her eyes once more. She saw Sherlock looking at her, love and sincere concern in his eyes even though she was a swollen mess, wearing an oversized shirt and startlingly pink pyjama bottoms. It was too much…
"You should be-"
Sherlock's sentence was cut short because Molly had rushed forwards and kissed him tenderly, pouring every ounce of her love into such a small gesture. John smiled sweetly as Molly pulled away and, apparently, rendered Sherlock speechless. Molly ruffled his messy hair gently as he placed a loving kiss to her stomach.
"Thank you."
Molly moved into the kitchen and Sherlock cleared his throat, mumbling 'it's only breakfast' to himself. John turned towards Molly, grinning broadly.
"Sherlock's my best man, Molly…"
Molly frowned, pausing midway through spreading more jam on her toast – Sherlock frowned at this action; he was still uncomfortable with the high sugar content in the product but didn't fancy facing the wrath of his pregnant girlfriend. She tilted her head to the side and shrugged.
"Uh…yeah, who else?"
John turned back to Sherlock with a smug expression on his face. He scowled at his cocky looking friend, secretly feeling very moved that he had no competition whatsoever.
The lunchtime planning was rather successful. Molly had promised to stay away from greasy foods on the condition that Sherlock ate something; it was the little things like this that showed how much they cared for each other and John was happy for them. Mary had designated Molly to be her maid of honour, much to an over-emotional Molly's delight; Sherlock found himself wondering if she would have still cried if she hadn't been pregnant. They had also arranged a venue and a date. As a wedding present, the Holmes family had declared they use their large estate situated in the countryside. Sherlock was adamant there was to be no arguments; this was apparently a load off of the couple's minds as they didn't have to waste time with costs, availability and bookings. The date was to be July 15th, warmer weather and close to summer; perfect honeymoon conditions. Things were finally going right for everyone which was, perhaps, what worried Sherlock indefinitely…
1 month later – Location, Location, Location (& 20 weeks)
The wedding plans were well under way now. Sherlock had managed to blackmail Mycroft into helping with setting up the decorations and marquee in the grounds. The theme was to be white and gold and Mycroft found himself very much looking forward to his responsibilities. Molly was now also noticeably pregnant indeed, and Sherlock would let everyone who asked know about it. Molly enjoyed the pride he seemed to get by claiming responsibility of her rounder figure. According to him, now it was apparent he was going to be a father, Kitty Riley could write what she pleased and he couldn't care less. Sherlock found himself busier than ever, though, as Molly's new figure meant that she could no longer put on her own shoes and he also found himself massaging her sore muscles – these were tasks he would never admit he didn't find unpleasant. It had been the eighteenth week of Molly's pregnancy, though, the couple had been painfully distracted from the excitement of the wedding.
It had been late afternoon, Sherlock was working on a case and had arrived at Bart's to 'study some samples', despite not having a case; everyone knew it was because he wanted to be near Molly. Molly had disappeared to the lab to retrieve the results of her autopsy. She had suddenly burst into the morgue, fear and panic written on her face which grabbed Sherlock's attention immediately. He abandoned his experiment and rushed over to her tear-stained face, noticing she was holding in her shaky hands a blood-stained cloth. There was a substantial amount of blood and Molly was hysterical.
"I-I didn't…know w-what it was…I-I was in so much…p-pain…I w-went to the bathroom…and-"
"We are going upstairs."
Sherlock was already pulling his distraught girlfriend from the room, his own mind trailing to things he'd rather not think about. Fearing the worst, as you would of course, they waited impatiently to be seen by their expert.
"I'm…scared, Sherlock…what if-"
"No. Don't. Everything will be alright. I…too am terrified."
Sherlock had done his best to calm Molly, even if he felt sick to his stomach. Molly felt very reassured when he was near and knowing he was just as scared gave her strength. It's going to be alright. She was frantic as Sherlock held her tightly. Finally, they were shown inside…
"Ok, Miss Hooper…let's take a little look at junior, shall we?"
Molly nodded nervously and glanced towards Sherlock; he was clenching and unclenching his fists as he paced the room at speed. The doctor ran the ultrasound machine over Molly's stomach and pursed his lips. Molly whimpered and Sherlock strolled over, grasping her hand tightly which immediately calmed her. The doctor prodded and poked here and there, asking various questions and making notes. After the most heart wrenching few minutes of Sherlock and Molly's lives, the doctor shook his head.
"Well…I can't see anything wrong with the little one," Molly released the breath she didn't know she was holding and, overcome with emotion, Sherlock dropped his head to her shoulder, relief washing over him, "…although, I cannot say for certain what caused it. My advice to you would be to get plenty rest and avoid manual labour for the remainder of your pregnancy. Please contact me if there are any complications."
Molly nodded as she righted her clothing and Sherlock shook the doctor's hand. In the corridor, Sherlock embraced Molly very gently as though scared she would break. Molly softly caressed his hair, desperately trying to remain strong, and whispered into skin.
"Hey…we're alright."
She felt Sherlock nod slowly before he began racing back downstairs. Molly blinked in confusion before hastily following after him; he had marched into Mike's office and was talking to him rather sternly. Molly frowned and pressed her ears to the door, faintly hearing Mike's stammering and Sherlock's deep orders. When he returned, he grinned at Molly.
"I have secured your maternity leave."
Molly smiled back, making a mental note to apologise to Mike for the harshness with which he was spoken to; it wasn't his fault after all. Molly was pleased she could now relax the remainder of her pregnancy but there was still the worry that had been placed upon them that day.
Sherlock and Molly had decided against telling John and Mary about their incident, not wanting to cause them extra stress and worry. They were planning to meet them today at the Holmes estate to have a look around and plan the arrangements. Sherlock and Molly were the first to arrive, much to Daphne's pleasure. They could faintly see Mycroft sporting a high-tech headset in the distance, speaking to someone Sherlock assumed sorted wedding stuff. Sherlock scoffed to himself, rolling his eyes at his over-practical sibling.
"Molly, dear…you look beautiful…," Daphne had bustled forwards, embracing the woman carrying her grandchild. Sherlock frowned at his overbearing mother as she elbowed him in the ribs. "I hope you're looking after her…I ate like a horse with Mycroft. Your father had to make sure I didn't eat too much crap, though…"
Molly bit back her smirk; somehow, she knew Sherlock had received this trait from his own father. Sherlock scowled at his mother, hating the small feeling of embarrassment she bestowed upon him and ignored her as he moved inside, approaching Mycroft who held up the hand that wasn't pressed to his ear. Sherlock frowned deeply and glanced behind him; Molly had stayed behind to talk to his mother and Sherlock would possibly never understand why they got on so well. Sherlock turned back as Mycroft finished his conversation and grinned at his brother.
"Ah, Sherlock…I am sorry, I was attending to some important wedding matters. Where is the happy couple?"
Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes darting over his brother.
"Not here yet, obviously. How is your correspondence with Kitty Riley?"
Mycroft's eyes widened, fiddling with his hands as he licked his lips softly.
"Sherlock…like myself, Miss Riley has her sources."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and forced a smile onto his face as his mother entered with Molly. Daphne smiled and patted Mycroft fondly on the arm.
"I'm glad you're getting on. John and Mary just arrived. They're looking around outside the garden."
"Yes, Mummy. They're going to love it here."
Sherlock mimicked his brother childishly behind his mother's back and his arm wound around Molly as she snuggled into him. Molly giggled softly; the events of two weeks ago had faded to something of a horrible nightmare and their excitement was setting in again. Their minds occasionally drifted to the 'what if' area of that situation but, luckily, they had each other to pull them through it. John and Mary moved into the entrance hall of the large, breath-taking building and sighed happily.
"It's wonderful, Mrs. Holmes…perfect in every way. Are you sure you don't mind us using it?"
Daphne rolled her eyes and waved her hands dismissively, a wide smile on her face.
"What is it with you people and manners? You are friends with my sons, are you not? It's Daphne, dear, and of course not. I'm not getting much use out of it these days. Neither of my boys tends to visit me, anyway."
Ah, the guilt trip. I wondered when that was coming. Sherlock released a bored deep breath and Mycroft bowed his head in guilt. Molly noticed Sherlock was getting rather fidgety and gave his arm a supportive squeeze. Mary beamed excitedly, shocked at how different Daphne Holmes was from her sons, and John nodded gratefully in her direction. The rest of the day was spent organising what was going where and who was sitting next to whom. John was, obviously, going to be supported by Sherlock whilst Mary had selected Molly as her maid of honour and two other bridesmaids; her older sister, Jeannie Morstan and Chloe Simmonds, an extremely shy friend of hers and Molly's from school. The marquee was going to be placed at the top of the large garden, lined with rows and rows of decorative seats and flowers that Mycroft was preparing. The guest list had been drawn up – well, a draft, they still had to make and send the invitations as well as wait for replies. For now, though, as they ate a delicious meal at the Holmes' intricate dining table, Mary and John were pleased to have the most difficult part of their planning sorted out. They couldn't wait to be married.
1 month later – Food, Fabric and Frivolity (24 weeks)
Everyone was well and truly busy now with arrangements for the impending Watson-Morstan nuptials. Sherlock had rejected case offers in favour of tending to the now rather large framed Molly. One day, he had entered the bedroom and stopped in his tracks. Molly was examining herself in the mirror and turning in different angles, smoothing her nightdress over her large stomach and sighing dreamily. She caught Sherlock staring and slumped her shoulders.
"Look at me…I'm huge…"
Sherlock swallowed and approached her, placing both of his hands over her stomach. He felt the familiar sensation of the baby's kick; this often happened when he spoke or touched her stomach. Every time, he felt a lump in his throat, reminding him painfully that he almost lost it all. Stop that. This…this is happening. You and Molly are going to be parents. You'll have it all soon. Shaking his head, Sherlock met her eyes and nodded.
"Yes, you are…and you look beautiful."
Molly smiled and kissed him softly, resting her head against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, and his deep voice filled her ears.
"No matter what…promise me, Molly…please, don't leave me…now I have this…I don't want to lose it by…'being myself'…"
Molly pulled back and cupped his chin gently. She swallowed and blinked away the tears in her eyes.
"I am not going anywhere…not when I have a gorgeous boyfriend and a beautiful baby on the way…do you understand?"
Sherlock nodded and breathed in her calming scent, reminding himself all the while that she was real.
"Oh, and one more thing…" Sherlock mumbled an acknowledgement and met Molly's soft brown gaze, "…never change…I love you for who you are. Socially awkward and perfectly clever…"
Sherlock chuckled and held her; his mind palace was undergoing some serious refurbishments.
A few weeks ago, Molly had returned from shopping with Mary to find Sherlock frowning intently at the spare bedroom before shaking his head and pulling her into the room. Molly blinked in confusion and her eyes widened in shock as she saw…everything was ready. The cot was assembled in the corner, assorted toys were packed away in appropriate boxes and the babygros were draped across the rocking chair in the corner. Molly turned to see Sherlock staring straight ahead, unblinking.
"It just needs to be painted now. I wanted to wait until we knew. Colours."
He gestured around and scowled in the direction of the cot. Molly imagined he had found that most difficult. Judging by the small plasters on his hands, she had been correct. Aww…he's so sweet. When he wants to be, anyway.
"It's perfect…when did you do it?"
Sherlock bit back as grin as Molly threw her arms around him; his hands settled onto her stomach as they always did.
"When you and Mary were shopping for outfits…"
Molly opened her eyes in realisation. She was meeting Mary to finalise her decision; she believed she had found the perfect dress and needed to select the ones for her bridesmaids. After dressing hurriedly in smart yet loose clothes, Molly kissed him on the forehead – he was slipping into his mind palace – and darted out of the flat to the bridal shop…but not before turning back and adding:
"It's probably best to remove those splinters…plasters won't do anything…"
Molly giggled to herself as she faintly heard Sherlock swear and turn on his side in a sulk.
"Molly, nice of you to join us."
Mary's voice had sounded behind the screen she was changing. Molly bit her lip guiltily and settled herself between Jeannie and Chloe, nodding towards them. Chloe gave a small wave and Molly placed her bag on the floor, collapsing gratefully onto a chair. She ran her hands across her large stomach, earning herself some eye-rolls from Jeannie: it was no secret she fancied Sherlock, despite being married herself.
"Yeah, sorry…"
Mary rolled her eyes and examined herself in the mirror. This is the one.
"Oh, it's beautiful."
Mary stepped out of the curtains and delighted in her friend's mouths dropping to the floor. Yes, this is Mrs. Mary Watson. The shop assistant started to move around Mary, beaming proudly and speaking in a posh, authoritative voice.
"Yes. The one-piece, strapless, A-line gown with button over zipper closure is a beautiful piece indeed. Beaded lace accents the bodice and the bustled Sonata Taffeta skirt. The fabric is intricately designed with lace and Taffeta with a custom made size to those that…" she glanced snobbishly towards Molly, "…require it. The colours we have available for this dress are champagne, ivory, pink and light gold. At a mere £289.00-"
"How much?"
Chloe's high pitched, shrill voice leapt upon the woman's ears and she frowned deeply over her small glasses. Mary waved her hand dismissively, twirling around happily.
"Oh, John said it's fine. My budget is £7,500, but I gave most of that to Mycroft. I think I'll take it."
"An excellent choice Madame."
As Mary disappeared to remove the dress, the shop assistant bustled over to the till to prepare for Mary's purchases. Jeannie spoke up in order for her sister to hear; she was eerily familiar to her younger sister, especially her smile.
"Did you get a windfall then sis?"
Mary chuckled and the group watched as the curtain swished around as Mary re-dressed herself.
"I wish. No, this is courtesy of the consulting detective and the doctor. Apparently, some posh tart was doing the butler and she got him to do in her husband. She was planning to sell this vase worth fifteen grand so they could run away together. It was his vase, see."
Mary trailed off as she tutted loudly, muttering 'stupid zip'. Molly cleared her throat, turning to the group of girls.
"The husband's family were so grateful, they gave the vase to Sherlock as a reward. He sold it and split the money with John. My clever detective…he told me I helped solve that case. He would never have understood the love motive if it hadn't been for me…"
Molly winked at Jeannie who huffed silently whilst Chloe stared in awe. Jeannie turned to Molly suddenly and smiled wickedly.
"Sherlock said that?"
Molly swallowed and shrugged.
"Yes…he said he solved it because he finally knows what love is…"
Even Jeannie melted at this comment and Chloe looked on the verge of tears; she was the only single one of the group of friends. Mary, having won the battle with her jeans, returned from the curtain and grinned broadly, biting her lip excitedly.
"Look what I've got…"
She pulled out a lovely looking gown, deep gold and flowing to the floor beautifully. Her friends giggled excitedly, rushing forwards to take one to try on. Molly lingered slightly, rubbing her swollen stomach. Mary sighed and approached her, wiggling the bridesmaid dress at her.
"Come on…they can alter it for you…"
Molly grinned and took it; as the wedding wasn't for another four weeks they agreed it was best to wait to have it altered. Molly admired Mary's taste, it was beautiful and everything was going to look perfect.
Whilst Mary was organising the outfits, John had been put in charge of co-ordinating the menu and music. He grumbled to himself, frustrated as he tried to decide what to have.
"You could help me you know…"
Sherlock, who was in his mind-palace pose, sighed deeply and fixed his friend with a frustrated stare.
"It is obvious the music choice should be something both you and Mary enjoy…as for the food, I do not need to remind you Molly is-"
"Yes, Sherlock I know. Anyway, the food isn't an issue. Your mum's sorting it for us. Apparently, she's quite the expert chef."
Sherlock hummed in agreement as he settled into the cushions.
"Yes, well…you only have to look at Mycroft to see that…"
John laughed and shook his head, burying himself in playlists. After many hours of scribbling and mind-changing, he had decided on a variety of music to play at their reception and to walk down the aisle to. He leaned back in his chair, rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his eyes. He noticed Sherlock hadn't moved or spoken once.
"Oh, by the way…did you send the invitations?"
Sherlock frowned and turned to John, an offended look on his face.
"Of course. Despite what you might think, John, I am taking my new responsibilities very seriously."
John nodded respectfully and looked at his watch. It's getting late. John mumbled his goodbyes and departed for his home to his fiancée. Sherlock opened his eyes at the slamming door, removing from his pocket a small, velvet box. Smirking, Sherlock quickly shoved it away as he heard the door open. Molly staggered inside, slipping her coat from her shoulders and collapsing into the chair, her feet coming to rest on the coffee table. She noticed Sherlock's apparently overjoyed expression and eyed him suspiciously.
"You look happy. What have you been up to?"
Sherlock did nothing except smirk softly in her direction, gesturing for her to join him on the sofa. Molly got to her feet and settled next to him, snuggling into his arms as he brushed his fingers across her stomach.
"Nothing. I am just excited."
Molly tilted her head back against his shoulder and shook her head, grinning widely herself. She couldn't wait either. Sherlock gently smoothed over his trouser pocket. All in good time.
July 15th, The Big Day (28 weeks)
John awoke in a room in the Holmes estate; he had returned from his stag night late last night. To anyone else, it wasn't very exciting. Sherlock hadn't planned anything special, much to Lestrade's annoyance. They had ended up drinking and playing cards. The Holmes' brothers appeared too distracted to join in all night; Mycroft had been checking last minute arrangements and Sherlock spent all night on his phone texting. John didn't need to be a consulting detective to discover who he had been texting and, sure enough, when Sherlock disappeared to the bathroom, John discovered pages and pages listing drinks Molly had consumed on Mary's hen night. They were all non-alcoholic much to Sherlock's relief; he was aware of Jeannie's tendency to apply peer pressure. Halfway into the evening, they noticed Mycroft had disappeared and but they didn't seemed to mind very much.
John rubbed his eyes and glanced at his suit, beaming widely; he had shared an argument with Sherlock the previous night about whether the detective should wear a tie or not. John lost much to Sherlock's joy; he was already being forced to wear a waistcoat. John began to get ready early, the same thing running through his mind. 11:30 today and you're no longer a single man, John. An exciting thought, indeed.
Sherlock was awake early that morning also, staring intently at his own suit with a groan. Why on Earth did Mary select waistcoats? He rolled his eyes as he could already hear his mother instructing the kitchen staff of their duties for today. Carefully stepping towards the door, he pulled it open and stepped into the cool hallway. The creaking of a door at the end of the hall caused Sherlock to turn around and raise his eyebrows. He watched with a slight frown as Mycroft crept along the hallway, apparently attempting to be discreet. Sherlock cleared his throat and Mycroft jumped.
"Hmmm…if I'm not mistaken, Mycroft, your bedroom is situated upstairs. That…" Sherlock gestured smugly towards the bedroom and delighted in the way his brother turned bright red, "…is Chloe Simmonds' room, Molly and Mary's friend from school. But, I guess you know her a little better than that…"
Sherlock smirked as Mycroft shuffled in the direction of his his head, Sherlock knocked once and moved into John's bedroom. The groom was unzipping the bags containing his suit when he entered and looked up to meet his gaze.
"I…wanted to wish you good luck…"
John blinked at the unusual comment and took Sherlock's extended hand; John was really pleased Sherlock was beginning to accept emotions and had embraced his softer side. He was still Sherlock, though, as John noticed him scowling at the offending waistcoat.
"It's charming…"
"It's ridiculous. It's as though someone attempted to make a jacket and stopped halfway…"
John giggled at this and Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back, confused. He shook his head and moved into his own room, to ready himself. Upon entering the room, he saw Molly examining her own dress with a sad expression.
"What's the matter?"
Molly shook her head, placing the dress carefully on the bed. Sherlock was fully prepared for what she was going to say.
"I'm going to look-"
"Lovely. How are you feeling?"
Molly shrugged, rubbing her very round stomach fondly.
"I get twinges now and then, but it's nothing to worry about…I think it's just nerves," she added the last part quickly as Sherlock's eyes widened. She didn't want to worry him for nothing.
Molly took great amusement in watching Sherlock dress in his elegant waistcoat, frowning dramatically and folding his arms like a child. She rolled her eyes as she threw on a simple shirt and maternity jeans; her dress was uncomfortable and it was only 9:00am. Bidding Sherlock goodbye, she headed to the 'bridal suite' or Daphne's bedroom at the front of the estate. Mary was already seated and getting her hair styled by Daphne's personal hairdresser; Jeannie and Chloe were yet to arrive. Molly seated herself in the corner and smiled fondly at her friend.
"Oh, Mary…you look lovely! Where's your dad? I thought he was coming down?"
Mary nodded, reaching forwards to sip her tea much to the hairdresser's annoyance.
"He's coming for the ceremony. He's already met John, so…"
Molly nodded and leaned back in her seat, discomfort settling in now. She clutched her stomach as she shifted, trying to get comfortable. Mary frowned.
"Hey, you ok?"
"Fine."
Molly rose her feet and moved desperately towards the sofa, collapsing into it. Mary frowned momentarily until the doors opened and Jeannie and Chloe tumbled into the large room, giggling manically. The hairdresser tutted and shook her head, tilting Mary's to the side. Jeannie suddenly burst into tears.
"Oh, Mary…you look lovely…"
Mary gave a gentle smile before shaking her head and glancing at her lap, mumbling 'stop, you'll start me off'. Molly glanced towards Chloe, who had a noticeably large grin on her innocent face.
"You look happy, Chloe…"
Chloe immediately wiped the smile off of her face, glancing at the floor as she glowed red. Mary raised her eyebrows, a cheeky smirk settling on her lips.
"Did you finally get some?"
Chloe lifted her eyes from the floor, her face noticeably redder. Jeannie giggled and nudged Mary; the vein in the hairdresser's head was beginning to throb.
"I'll say…she was all over him last night. Well, if you can't have the best looking Holmes brother…"
Jeannie trailed off in a fit of giggles at the scathing look Molly had thrown her. Chloe looked like a tomato when she finally mumbled, 'can we change the subject?'
When Mary's hair was at last ready, the excitable rabble had covered the topic of the impending baby Holmes, John and Mary's honeymoon location and Mycroft Holmes. Poor Chloe was humiliated further when Mycroft had entered the bedroom brazenly to return her bra to her; it had somehow ended up in his coat pocket. If Molly didn't know any better, she would have sworn she saw the slightest hint of pride.
It was near mid-morning when John's parents arrived at the posh location with Mrs. Hudson in tow. He showed them around before bustling away to finish getting ready himself. Bored out of his mind, Sherlock took to wandering the grounds of his estate, carrying out deductions on members of John and Mary's family. He was already dressed and was currently avoiding the attentions of Mary's single and less important friends. I wish they'd hurry…and I hope Molly is taking it easy. Mary's father had arrived and had immediately struck up a conversation with John's mother. Sherlock hadn't seen his mother since the previous evening and assumed she was still ordering the chefs around. He glanced at his watch. Not long now…
Finally, everyone had moved to the garden and sitting on the appropriate side Mycroft showed them to. Molly had squeezed into her dress now and was waiting with the other bridesmaids at the top of the aisle. She gasped as someone linked arms with her, relaxing immediately when she saw Sherlock standing proudly next to her. His eyes grazed over her; the dress editor had truly done a marvellous job. He noticed her simple plait falling in front of her shoulders and smiled genuinely.
"I knew I was right…you are beautiful…"
Molly looked over his body and raised her eyebrows; how did John manage to convince him to wear a waistcoat?
"Nice waistcoat…" Sherlock scowled and stared straight ahead and Molly giggled, "…you look beautiful too…"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and bit his lip, a thought occurring to him.
"John informed me it is customary for the best man to 'get off with' one of the bridesmaids…"
Molly smirked and glanced to the left of Sherlock, nodding in Jeannie's direction.
"She'll be pleased to hear that…"
Sherlock chuckled and clutched her arm tightly.
"Yes. A pity for her I am spoken for. Besides, she should have informed her husband of the wedding."
Molly grinned widely and nodded, her stomach twinging again. Gritting her teeth, Molly gripped his arm tightly. It was nearing half eleven now and John was standing at the front of the altar, fidgeting uncomfortably. Molly watched with interest as Lestrade approached Chloe, bowing and kissing her hand. Chloe giggled as he linked arms with her and the poor girl blushed madly. Sherlock's eyes wandered to his brother and he pursed his lips when he noticed him take Jeannie's arm rather regretfully and shoot Lestrade a piercing glare. Soft music began to sound across the grounds; Sherlock and Molly began to move down the aisle to meet John at the front, Molly opposite the two men and next to the minister. Lestrade and Chloe followed them and stopped at the front also followed by a rather furious looking Mycroft with Jeannie. Sherlock gave John a reassuring wink, nervously clasping his own hands behind his back. His expression remained calm and collected as always, though. Before any of them knew it, the music was playing – the classic wedding march – and Mary was moving swiftly through the aisle of gold and white balloons towards them, her father proudly on her arm. Once at the altar, her father kissed her cheek and presented her hand to John who took it, mesmerised by his fiancée's beauty. The garden fell quiet as the minister approached the podium.
"Dearly beloved…"
Searing pain shot to Molly's stomach and she clutched it reassuringly, wincing but immediately shaking it off and taking deep breaths. Luckily, no one seemed to notice; Sherlock was watching her curiously, though. The minister was speaking softly and slowly to the deliriously happy couple before him. Molly blinked away her disorientation as Sherlock stepped forwards, handing the rings over with a gentle smile. As the couple slipped their rings onto the other's fingers, Molly dropped the flowers she was holding, clutching her painful stomach. The couple's lips met softly and the rows of seats erupted into cheers and applause. Everything seemed to be going in slow-motion; Molly glanced down and shook her head, she became vaguely aware Sherlock was standing next to her, saying something incoherent and desperately trying to keep her upright. Sherlock noticed what she had too and was swallowing urgently.
Molly's waters had definitely broken.
"T-that's impossible…I-I'm only 28 w-"
Molly was cut off by searing pain again, desperately shaking her head as she desperately sucked in breaths. She felt Sherlock move away, not letting go of her hand. He had tapped John on the shoulder, who crouched next to Molly and checked her over. Daphne was panicking, spinning on the spot as she yelled desperately for a phone. Mycroft stepped forwards, pressing the earpiece to his face, his hands shaking uncontrollably. John had sat Molly on a chair and instructed her to control her breathing and Mary had busied herself in moving the gathering crowd of people away.
"The ambulance is on its way…"
Tears rolled down Molly's face as she gripped Sherlock's hand tightly, copying the breathing patterns he was demonstrating. Despite an overwhelming sense of fear and uncontrollable shaking, Sherlock promised himself he's remain strong for her.
"I'm…not…ready…we're…not…ready…"
Sherlock swallowed, not even daring to speak for he'd give away his own fear. Mary buried her face in her hands and John paced, checking his watch every ten minutes or so. After a short while, Daphne finally screamed at her eldest son.
"Did you tell them it was an emergency? I am not having my grandson born in my garden!"
Mycroft shrugged, for once utterly speechless. At last, the ambulance arrived and John filled them in on his observations, confirming Molly was indeed in labour. The ambulance raced to the hospital and Molly was hastily rushed into a delivery room. The midwives gathered around and instructed Molly on her breathing. taking samples and questioning her.
"Are you alright? You can step outside if-"
"Not a chance."
Sherlock shook his head, throwing his jacket into a chair as he came to stand behind Molly. He knew he was white as a sheet but he had to support her. He gripped her hands tightly and braced himself. The midwives were muttering to each other and nodding; Sherlock could determine they were thinking of emergency surgery. The rest of the information was lost as Molly's nails bit into his arms, another contraction causing her to cry out in pain. Sherlock watched as the hooked Molly up to heartbeat monitors and took various swabs.
"Please…do…something…anything…"
Sherlock was surprised at his own words; he was begging a higher power…something beyond his control. The midwife administered an epidural to Molly, ensuring Sherlock it wouldn't harm the baby. Molly whimpered and sobbed uncontrollably and Sherlock wrenched one of his arms from her vice-like grip. He began smoothing her sweaty forehead, murmuring encouragements. His legs were turning to jelly from the fear. Molly released another ear-splitting cry and Sherlock gritted his teeth tightly. A kindly midwife approached and smiled at the couple and began talking to them, announcing she was the chief midwife and was going to deliver the baby…right now. Molly's labour was too far advanced for emergency surgery and they had to do it now. Molly shook her head.
"No…I…I…can't…I…"
Sherlock blinked fiercely, his emotions were on the verge of spilling out. He sat her upright and slid his hands down her arms.
"We can do this…together…as we always have…"
Molly's plait was coming loose and her make-up was everywhere. She wound her arms around his and gripped him tightly.
"I'm…scared…Sherlock…"
The midwife turned to her prepared colleagues and gave a short nod; Sherlock could tell they were prepared for the worst. He wasn't. So am I.
"Ok, Molly, dear. When the next contraction comes, can you push for me?"
Molly nodded, bracing herself. Sherlock leaned against her shoulders, his emotions getting the better of him finally.
"Marry me."
Molly didn't have any time to say anything. Pain overtook her every fibre and her cries echoed off of the walls. Sherlock could feel the blood on his arms from Molly's nails but didn't care…he didn't care about anything until he knew they were fine. The midwife tilted her head and said something to her colleagues over her shoulder.
"OK, very good, Molly…and again for me…"
"I…I…can't…"
Sherlock's grip on her arms tightened as Molly threw her head back in agony, inadvertently catching him in the middle of his head. Pretty sure he was fighting to stay conscious, Sherlock shook his now bruised head and held her tightly as she pushed once more. After what felt like hours of pain and pushing, Molly collapsed against the stretcher, breathing heavily as the midwife sorted her out.
"Congratulations, Mr. Holmes, Miss Hooper. It's a boy."
Molly bit her lip, her head was heavy and her arms craved her son. Sherlock kissed her forehead and whispered into her ear.
"Thank you, Molly. You're wonderful. I have a son…"
Instead of pressing the infant into her arms, however, she carried him away and the crowd of midwives were working desperately on the opposite. Molly closed her eyes tightly and Sherlock gripped her hands.
"Is…something wrong?"
Molly shook her head, tears falling down her face once more. He's not crying…why isn't he crying? These were the most painful moments of their lives. Why was no-one talking to them? Was their son alright? The room was deafeningly quiet and for those few moments, Sherlock felt his own world slipping away from him. The one that had allowed him to love and the one he desperately needed.
"TELL US! IS HE ALRIGHT?"
Sherlock's voice cracked as he broke down, failing himself in his quest to stay strong for Molly who had already crumbled. The midwives remained silent as they worked to keep the baby boy's faint breathing from ebbing away…
In sickness and in health…
…until death do us part
