How many times do I have to apologize? A lot because making those of you who have continued to follow this story and who enjoy this pairing I've created deserve better than my lack of updates. This is a short one, but I needed to write it in. It was a feeling ya know?

I thank you for the continued support and, truly, I do love hearing from you all.

Yes, I have started another story (Louder Than Words), which I would love if you all read that as well, but I'm not giving up on this! I love Elfie and the relationship I've given her and Sherlock and I hope you all do too.

As always, I do not own BBC Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's cannon.

Much love and many thanks.

(PS: I threw in a little throw back to my very first Elfie/Sherlock story for you guys. :) Hope you like it.)

Chapter 10: In Formal Wear

"Sherlock are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be, darling."

"So...no?"
"Give me a few minutes."

With a heavy sigh, I plop down on the sofa being extra careful not to wrinkle the baby blue skirt of my long, flowing dress. That dreadful Friday evening has finally come. Here we are, ready to attend this so-called party Moriarty has set up, and Sherlock is taking his very precious time. Is he stalling? Maybe, but it's annoying. I completely understand why he doesn't want to leave just yet, but come on! We can't avoid this forever.

I toss my head back against the back of the couch and stare blankly up at the ceiling. I think about the kids: what are they doing right now? Has John got them tucked into bed? Is Hamish clutching to Sherlock's scarf? Do they miss us? Careful not to smudge my eye make-up, I close my eyes and try to hold back tears. Part of me can't wait to get this whole ordeal start so that I can get back home to them, but the other part of me is dreading this. What dangers are lurking around the corner? What does Moriarty have up his sleeve? Can Sherlock and I fix this?'It'll all be over soon,' I just keep telling myself, 'It'll all be over soon.'

"There, finished," Sherlock calls out, breaking me from my thoughts, "I may not look like much, my darling, but I assure you I put in some effort." I lift my head and open my eyes just in time to see my husband enter the room. What I see, takes my breath away.

He is dressed in all black but this suit is not at all like the ones he usually wears. This one shows off his features perfectly, squaring off his shoulders just right and highlighting his firm, muscular biceps. The top buttons of his black button up are undone, giving light to his perfectly pale skin underneath. Those curls are neatly combed and slightly pulled back so that they don't dangle in front of those mesmerizing eyes. He looks positively handsome, just like the first time I laid eyes on him.

To me, he is perfect.

"Well, don't just gawk at me," he says, adjusting his cuffs, "Say something, darling."

"Have you, um-Well...when did you get that suit?" I manage to say, sounding like a teenager who is speaking to their crush for the first time.

"Oh, this," Sherlock scoffs, running his hands down the front of his jacket, "I would've thought you'd recognize it."

Furrowing my brow, I take a moment to think but then relax as the memory hits me: "That's the suit yo wore when we were married." I say with a smile.

"Indeed it is," he replies with a nod, "I agree that it doesn't quite fit me as it did that day; I've lost a bit of weight since then, if you can believe it. Perhaps you can believe it what with all the health issues I've been facing this past year alone...and my activities during my three year absence...plus the fact that I don't really eat all that often, which I know you hate but frankly, Elfie, there is nothing for you to fret over."

I let out a breathy laugh and go straight to my husband's side. Before he can utter another word, I cup his face in my hands and place a deep kiss on his lips. Sherlock returns the gesture and allows his eyes to flutter closed. He carefully lifts his firm hands and gently starts to massage my bare shoulders. In this instant, time seems to stop. My heart is all a flutter and the smile beaming across my lips just can't disappear. I let out a giggle like a giddy school-girl; Oh God, I shouldn't be acting like this just before we head out on a case.

"You look beautiful," I whisper to him when we (reluctantly) part, resting my hands on his shoulders.

"Mmm, likewise," he replies with a content hum. Sherlock then slowly opens his eyes so that they lock with my own; "Where did that dress come from?" he asks, running his fingers over the white embroidery across the empire waistline of my gown.

"Oh? This?" I sheepishly say, "Just something I've had. I think it used to be Hattie's but I must have borrowed it then never given it back."

"Ah, I see." my husband says with a nod, "Be a bit hard to give it back to her now, wouldn't you say? What with her being in prison for murder and all."

"Yeah, um, thanks for that reminder." I mutter, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my stomach, "It's been awhile since I've thought about that whole fiasco."

"Oh, was that...a bit not good?" Sherlock asks, running his hands up and down my arms, "I had assumed that you'd be, well...over it by now."

"Oh, I am, trust me!" I quickly say, "but that doesn't mean it doesn't still bring up some bad memories."

Even as I say it, those memories start to stir in my mind, memories I haven't even thought about since long before Hamish was born. Now, they seem as clear to me as ever.I can still feel that pain in my chest when I found out that my then best friend had betrayed me. The utter confusion and chaos surrounding the whole affair still baffles me; everything from the initial crime to the many twists and turns that soon followed makes my thoughts a bit muddled. God, it really has been years since I've thought about it.

Something has lingered in my mind about that whole affair, though. It's the fear I felt that entire time. That was the first time I seriously thought I was going to loose Sherlock; he had fallen ill during that case, poisoned actually. I remember feeling so worthless as I sat at his bedside, telling him that I loved him as he held onto the mere edges of consciousness. I can still feel the clammy texture of Sherlock's hand in my own, see the feverish haze in his fading eyes, his horse voice telling me to keep up the case.

"...I'm going to find out you did this to you, no matter what it takes."

"You sound...like me."

It was because of that, I had my first encounter with Moriarty. Chills run up my spine as I recall the sound of his sickly sweet voice on the other end of that phone, telling me that if I didn't play along with him, I would surely loose Sherlock forever.

"...Join my game, or back out now while you still can. Either way I'm not going away, so you better think fast. Play along or sit back and watch me work."

"I almost lost you back then," I say, finally coming back to reality, "I think those memories are what I hate most about that case." I lift my head and gaze into Sherlock's eyes. He is looking at me with a furrowed brow and an expression that can only be described as caring. He takes my hands into his then gently places a kiss atop my knuckles.

"Would it surprise you to know that I remember all that," he says, placing my hands over his heart, "lying there, slipping in and out of a fever, trying to grasp onto reality."

"Sherlock," I sigh, resting my head against his shoulder, "please, can we not..."

"I remember how brave you were," he goes on, kissing my temple, "In that moment, when everything seemed to bleak and, dare I say it, hopeless, you kept going. You solved that case."

"No, I didn't. You did."

"You finished it."

"With your help."

"Elfie, stop being modest and do take some credit."

I let out a breathy chuckle and nuzzle my head into the nook of my husband's neck. Sherlock kisses my temple again as he wraps his arms around me; "I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you," he says into my hair, "I know the weight that that statement carries, but it's the truth."

"John cured you of that Aspirin poisoning, not me." I reply.

"I'm talking about in general," he clarifies, "There are so many times, little moments in our relationship, that I look back on and think 'what would've happened if Elfie weren't there at my side?' More or less, the scenarios that play out are dark and depressing." Sherlock then places a hand under my chin and lifts my head so that our foreheads touch: "You are my light, my darling, darling girl." he goes on, "My reason for being where I am today."

"You are giving me far to much credit, Sherlock Holmes," I retort with a smirk, "You were doing just fine before we met."

"To be perfectly honest with you, Elfie Marie, I don't think I was." he says, facing me properly now, "Of course, I was content with my work and how my life was playing out, but then something changed; the perfect equation of my life was altered due to an unexpected variable." Very carefully, Sherlock starts to maneuver his hands around my waist as he gazes lovingly into my eyes: "A very calm, intelligent, self-assured, amazing, beautiful variable," he goes on, "One that I am ever so grateful for having been brought into my life."

"Ah, so that's what I am to you," I tease, wrapping my arms around his neck, "a variable."

"The most important one," he whispers, closing his eyes as he leans in to kiss me.

"You flatter me, Mr. Holmes." I whisper back

"I only speak the truth, Mrs. Holmes."

Our lips meet in a tender kiss that lasts only for a few moments. When we part, I can't help but let out a small laugh as Sherlock wraps me in a warm embrace.

"Let's not go out" I say, rubbing my hands up and down his back, "Trick Moriarty into thinking we're going to show and then actually remain here?"
"Please enlighten me on how that will help our current situation," he cheekily replies to which my response is to give him a small swat on the shoulder. He lets out a laugh and then we slowly part, taking our hands into each others grip.

"I don't wish to go either," he starts to explain, "but, Fee..."

"I know, I know," I say, "we have to end this."

"Well, yes that," he says, "but I was going to say that if we stayed in, I would've spent all that time getting into this suit for nothing."

"Are you trying to be funny?"

"...I still haven't gotten a knack for it, have I?"

I shake my head and place a kiss on his cheek: "Stick to solving crimes, Sherlock Holmes, it fits you better."

He chuckles then picks up my coat that has bee laying across the back of one of the easy chairs. He places it around my bare shoulders and lets out a sigh. The mood is shifted back into 'case mode'. Those conflicting feelings wrestle around in my stomach again as I take Sherlock's hand into mine. He give it a gentle squeeze then slowly leads me toward the front door.

"Into battle then, my darling?" he asks

"Into battle." I reluctantly reply, "Always, into battle."