I'm finally back! And here we have the start of the Watson wedding fun! I won't gab on and I'll let you get to reading. ;)
Molly knocked on Mary's door and clearly hear her voice inside speaking to someone else. Mary stopped talking and came over to answer the door. "Hello?"
"Mary, hello. It's um, Molly Hooper…from the hospital."
"Oh, Molly!" Mary exclaimed happily as she unlocked and opened her door. She gave Molly a hug right away. "Hello, how are you? Come in, please."
Molly came in shyly, clutching a large box in her arms. She made eye contact with the lovely brunette who sat on Mary's couch.
"Molly, this is Anthea. She's a…friend of mine."
Anthea stood and gave Molly a lady-like handshake. "How do you do?"
"Very well, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Anthea," Molly said with a smile. She looked back and forth between the two women for just a moment. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"Oh no!" Mary assured her. "Please sit down. We were just working on the arrangements for the wedding reception. I do hope you've gotten your invitation!"
"I have, yes. In fact, that was one of the reasons I had wanted to stop by. You see, I was thinking of what to wear and, well…I was hoping to get your opinion." Molly looked a little embarrassed. "I don't have many lady friends, so I hardly knew who to ask."
"Did you bring a dress with you?" Anthea asked, looking at the box that Molly set next to her chair.
"I did. It was a gift from my father when I was still in university. He was a bit over excited about his daughter becoming a doctor. Of course, I haven't had any call to wear it yet. I wondered if I'd ever even get to take it out of the box."
Mary's eyes lit up and both she and Anthea looked like they were ready to open the box themselves. "May we see? I would absolutely love some distraction from the more mundane wedding plans and organization!"
Molly hesitated for a second, then picked the box up and pulled the lid off to reveal the delicately folded garment inside. Both of the other women let out a little gasp.
"Molly, this is…exquisite!" Mary breathed out with a palm pressed to her chest. "Please tell me you'll wear this! It is the perfect dress for this occasion!"
"Is it?" Molly asked, her face blooming in a grin. "Oh, I did hope you would say that. I don't have much experience with this sort of thing, so I thought it best to hear your opinion."
"Anthea, is this not the most perfect dress?" Mary prompted her friend to back her in the judgement of this garment.
"Absolutely perfect," Anthea immediately said, and with a rather authoritative voice. "You could do no better than this, my dear. I doubt if I will be in a dress this fine!" She leaned forward and spoke with seriousness to Molly. "Tell me, have you had it properly fitted?"
"Well, no," Molly admitted. "I have a bit of basic sewing skills myself, so I thought I might just-"
"Oh no!" Anthea said, shaking her head briskly. "Molly, do allow me to give you the name of the best seamstress I know. And if you mention to her that Anthea sent you, she will consider the work as a personal favor to me."
Molly's jaw dropped. "That's awfully generous of you! I do hope it wouldn't be any trouble."
"No no!" Anthea said with a wave of her gloved hand as she stood and went over to the small writing desk that Mary had near the window. "I give her plenty of business and she is kind enough to do me a favor now and again." She scribbled on a page and then brought it to Molly.
Molly grasped the page and smiled at the name and address. "How lovely that I happened to meet you here today. You're very kind…I do hope I'll see you at the wedding."
"I believe you shall," Anthea said with a smile at Mary. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. As long as there aren't any pressing matters of national security, I shall certainly be there." All three women laughed as if it were a clever little joke.
Two of them knew it wasn't.
Sherlock peered into the dead man's stomach and hummed little notes to himself under his breath. As he did, be became aware of the tapping on the floor.
"Dr. Hooper," he said, without looking up. "Must you tap your foot like that?"
"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat. "I'm just a bit anxious I suppose."
"What for?"
"Well I have got to go to the seamstress directly after I leave Bart's. I must pick up my gown for Dr. Watson and Mary's wedding." She peered at him, looking for any little sign of interest. "It is only in a few days and I've got to make sure the gown is just right and that I have it in time."
"Mm," was his only response.
Molly sighed quietly to herself and thought that perhaps she'd need to be more direct. "Mr. Holmes, if you could perhaps speed up your observations…"
Finally Sherlock lifted his head and frowned at the woman looking up at him. "Are you asking me to leave?"
Molly licked her lips and pressed them together, and then she spoke again. "I understand you're enjoying this little…investigation. But I think it is rather clear by this time that this man did die of natural causes. It was already a bit of a reach for me to advise a full post mortem. But I should think by now there is little justification in doing anything other than wrapping this up." She punctuated her statement with a tight smile.
At length, he sighed and took a step back. "As you wish. Though I must say I am surprised at you, Dr. Hooper. Putting a gown before a post mortem…I'm a bit disappointed."
"I do need a suitable dress to wear to the wedding, Mr. Holmes," she said, as if explaining to a child.
Sherlock shrugged. "I have wedding responsibilities as well, though I am hardly in a rush to fulfill them. Apparently it is for me to take Watson on some sort of 'stag night.' I can't see the point in such a thing, but the duty still falls on me."
"Oh, I think that'll be lovely!" she exclaimed. The idea of the two of them out for a night on the town was both humorous and endearing.
"A bit tedious. Most such evenings center around alcohol, gambling, and women. Those are all things that hold little appeal for me." He pulled his coat on, maintaining his aloof expression.
Molly chose to ignore some of what he said. She certainly didn't feel like arguing with the part about women. "If alcohol holds no appeal for you, then you'd better be cautious when going out with Dr. Watson for a stag night."
"I do think I know how to drink in moderation, Dr. Hooper!" he huffed with an air of superiority.
"Just a friendly word of caution," she said with a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me."
Sherlock obeyed and got himself out of the morgue so that she could prepare to leave as well. He wondered exactly what John was thinking to expect him to throw a stag party before the big day. He was probably the least logical man for the job.
"Serves me right for being someone's best friend," he muttered while climbing the stairs of Bart's.
John slammed the empty glass down on the table as Sherlock peered at him over his own glass and did his best to keep up. Lestrade clapped John on the shoulder and suggested a game of pool. Sherlock was grateful that Lestrade and Anderson could accompany them. He felt ill equipped to continue being entertaining all evening. He enjoyed being with John of course, but normally this wasn't the setting. He was better company on a murder investigation.
John gave Sherlock a knowing smile as he walked off to have a game of pool. He was well aware that his friend was trying his best in a situation that was somewhat foreign to him.
Sherlock got up from the table as well, completely unwilling to stay there sitting with only Anderson. He strolled over to the side of the room and observed while leaning on the wall near the bar. Suddenly, he heard a very familiar voice.
"Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Holmes. I hadn't thought this was your sort of establishment."
The intoxicating voice of Miss Irene Adler instantly made Sherlock turn. "Miss Adler, I cannot say the same for you. I think this is just the sort of establishment I would expect to see you in," he said as she sauntered over closer in a fiery red satin dress. "And what brings you here tonight? Business or pleasure?"
"Hardly a difference for the likes of you and I, Mr. Holmes. I should think you would agree." She stared up into his eyes before glancing over to the bartender and gesturing to him. She requested a bottle of champagne to be sent to the private dining room upstairs.
"Strangely enough, I am not here on business," Sherlock admitted. "Dr. Watson will be married tomorrow, and it was up to me to throw him a stag party. Yet another reason it was foolish of him to give me the job of best man."
"Mm, Dr. Watson getting married," she said with a sly smile. "You should have sent word to me. I would have ensured that he had a stag night he'd never forget!"
"That is precisely why I did not send word to you," Sherlock said with a grin. "I feel sure that Watson wasn't interested in a stag night of that sort. He happens to be getting married because he's found a woman that he loves. He isn't likely to do anything that would upset her."
Irene slid a hand up his arm. "You aren't getting married," she said, her words dripping with honey.
Sherlock looked down at her discerningly. "Indeed, I am not. Far too much trouble for me," he said firmly, being as convincing as he could to both himself and his audience.
"I agree." She smiled brightly. "Perhaps you should celebrate the fact that you are continuing on as a bachelor." She called to the bartender for a whisky. "You clearly haven't yet had enough to drink tonight."
She handed him the glittering glass of alcohol a moment later, and Sherlock took it hesitantly. He stared back at her for a moment, then surprised them both by throwing the entire contents back into his mouth. He sucked air into his burning mouth and throat as he set the glass down.
"That's more like it," she said with a chuckle. She draped her arms around his neck and leaned against his chest, making the low cut neck line of her dress undeniably obvious. "I do wish I could spend more time with you, Mr. Holmes. I would have cleared my schedule if I'd known!"
Sherlock laugh was low and rumbling. "I doubt it. I don't recall you ever putting me before your personal business ventures before, Miss Adler." He could already feel the alcohol loosening his tongue.
The gleam in her eyes grew and she looked a little more determined. "You say the word, Mr. Holmes, and my time belongs to nobody but you tonight. What do you say to that? I can think of more than one mystery I'd like to uncover with you," she said suggestively and leaned up to press a lingering kiss to his cheek, not far from his lips.
Sherlock would be lying if he said that his long denied senses didn't all burst into flames at the touch of her lips to his skin. But it was relatively brief, and his head stopped spinning almost as soon as she pulled her face away from his.
Sherlock removed her arms from his neck. "I imagine your guest is beginning to miss your company upstairs."
"A shame," Irene said with a sigh. "Perhaps another time then?"
"Unlikely," Sherlock said with a wink and then turned to the bar tender, holding up the empty glass. "Another!"
"Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Holmes. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That seems easily accomplished…it's a rather short list of things to avoid!"
Irene gave him a fond smile before turning with a swish of her skirts and rounding the corner again. He watched her leave and then gripped the glass the bartender pushed toward him. Perhaps Irene was right. He should celebrate the fact that he wasn't getting married. Imagine all the fuss he was being saved! Sherlock chuckled to himself before throwing back more of the whiskey. It didn't burn so much this time, and he rather liked the way it dulled and softened his mind. The effect was similar to other substances he'd tried.
As Sherlock went over to find John and Lestrade at the pool tables, there was already a very subtle swerve in his gait…
Sherlock lifted his head and immediately groaned as he felt the pounding pressure in his skull. It took him a moment to register the fact that he wasn't actually in his own bed. In fact, it wasn't a bed at all. He was lying outside a door. As he pushed himself up to sit, he realized that he was in a hallway outside Molly Hooper's flat.
He did some quick calculations about the location of the gentlemen's club they were at and confirmed that Molly's flat was indeed about a half mile closer to it than his own. That explained his presence here. He turned his head slowly and noticed a paper lying on the floor beside him. He picked it up and squinted at the note scribbled on it.
Mr. Holmes,
I went to Miss Morstan's flat to help her get ready for the ceremony and reception. I'll be readying myself there as well. I shall see you this evening…preferably in a very different state.
-M. Hooper
Sherlock set the paper down and continued cradling his head. He needed some coffee…shame that Molly was gone. He decided it best to head back to Baker Street right away, especially since John would probably be there waiting for him. Surely John would already be fretting about the day's activities if he was awake.
Sherlock picked up his crumpled coat from the floor. He'd clearly taken it off and used it as a makeshift pillow. He carried his hat instead of putting it on, seeing as the idea of setting anything on his head made him feel like it might explode. It was all he could do to get himself downstairs, hail a cab, and give his home address.
John moaned from his chair by the fire when Sherlock came into 221B and shut the door.
"Not so loud, Holmes!"
"Is it any consolation that I am in equal discomfort right now?" Sherlock threw his hat and coat down and leaned on his chair. "Coffee," he said in a groan.
John didn't even say anything. He simply pointed to the kitchen where there was a pot sitting on a tray.
"Thank God for Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock murmured gratefully as he made his way to the steaming dark liquid. After he'd poured some and had taken a couple of sips, he felt ready to actually attempt to converse.
"Were you here all night?" Sherlock asked as he took his seat again across from John.
John nodded. "Mm…though I believe I didn't get back here till rather late. Where were you?"
Sherlock considered his answer for a moment. Frankly, he didn't feel like telling John that he'd ended up at Molly's flat. The first time made enough waves, and he didn't feel up to another barrage of counsel from his friend. Especially since he was rather hazy on the details himself.
"I got some sleep at a nearby bolt hole." Not really a lie…just a vague truth. And thankfully John didn't seem in the mood to press him further.
"From what I remember, you were more…enthusiastic about the festivities last night than I expected you to be." John sat up in order to have another sip of his own coffee.
"Yes well, I suppose I hadn't planned to drink as much as I did." Irene Adler, he remembered. "Somebody helped my along."
"Well we had both better sober up!" John announced forcefully. "I will not be a mess at my own wedding! I think Mary might just kill me." He ran his palms roughly over his face.
"Between the two of us, I believe she's more likely to kill me!" Sherlock said with an accompanying chuckle at such a ridiculous statement. "Not to worry, Watson. You will be there and you will get married this evening. It will be the wedding that you and Miss Morstan have been dreaming of! I feel sure of it."
"Good," John said with a clap of his hands. "Now pour me some more coffee and let's get to it!"
Some hours later, Sherlock watched as John and Mary exchanged vows. He did notice Molly in the back of the church, but she seemed intent on staying focused on the ceremony. When it was all over and the new bride and groom had left, she also quickly made her exit. Sherlock knew he'd see her at the evening's festivities, so he didn't bother to try and catch up to her. He supposed he should explain himself at some point. It seemed he'd slept on her doorstep. She likely had to literally walk over him in order to leave! Perhaps she was bothered…though neighbors were unlikely to notice since she was on the top floor and nobody else would have been walking up there.
A while after the ceremony, Mycroft picked Sherlock up in his carriage and they rode together to the reception.
"I hadn't mentioned how strangely…magnanimous your offer was to gift the Watsons their reception venue," Sherlock said as they rode along the city streets.
Mycroft shrugged. "It seemed a logical thing to do. Dr. Watson has been a friend to you for many years now. Why should I not appreciate and be generous with anyone who helps lighten my tedious task of keeping an eye on you?"
"Hm," was Sherlock's only response. It actually didn't make much sense to him, but perhaps Mycroft had some sort of hidden agenda up his sleeve.
"Besides, I know how fond you are of dancing, brother mine," Mycroft said with a teasing smirk. "Wouldn't want you to miss a prime opportunity."
Yet another unlikely reason. Sherlock was beginning to suspect that Mycroft definitely had some sort of plan for John or the Watsons…he'd simply have to figure out what it was.
Sherlock walked into the grand reception hall, the lights of which glittered like the stars that would soon be emerging in the sky. John and Mary stood together and greeted their guests by the door. Both their eyes lit up when they saw Sherlock approaching. He kissed Mary's hand and shook John's.
"Mrs. Watson, I am terribly pleased to finally address you as such," Sherlock said to her with a genuine smile.
"And I am glad to call you a friend, Mr. Holmes. John has been fortunate to have you in his life, and I think I would be privileged to say the same for myself."
"Makes for a more adventurous life, that is certain," John added with a laugh.
Just then, Molly came up to Mary…and Sherlock's jaw promptly dropped hard and fast to the ground.
Her hair was swept up in a distinguished swirl at the crown of head. There were a few tendrils of curls left out at her nape and hairline around her face. She had delicate little earrings of dangling white flowers. And then there was her dress…
She wore a sunny yellow silk satin gown with a draped neckline which also covered just the side of her shoulders. There was lace appliqué all down the bodice and skirt, and the skirt trailed behind her feet on the floor, accentuating the beautiful shape. The shape…was perfect. It fit her like it was made for her and only her. In fact, Sherlock couldn't imagine anyone else wearing that dress. He mused that there should only be this one dress of its kind in all the world, as it would be unfair to expect anyone else to live up to the way that Molly Hooper looked in it.
Sherlock had taken a complete overview of her appearance in less than five seconds, but it was long enough for John and Mary to notice his face.
"Good evening, Dr. Hooper," he said softly, with a slight nod of his head. He was surprised at the instant blush that covered her cheeks.
"Evening," she said quickly and with a small smile. She looked away almost as soon as she could and began speaking to Mary in hushed tones. Something about the punch.
"Oh yes of course," Mary answered her. "Would you tell them to bring out both kinds of punch together, instead of one at a time? I had wanted to give our guests the option."
"I'll tell them right away," Molly said with a smile at the new bride. She glanced ever so briefly at Sherlock, and then hurried away. Sherlock's eyes remained glued to her till she rounded the corner.
"I'm sure that you realize you'll need to speak to her as soon as possible," Mary said, making him turn to her and frown in question.
"Why? What's the matter? Is this about the…hallway in her flat?" he asked, lowering his voice a little. She did seem awfully embarrassed to even be in his presence. Something had to be bothering her. Was it really just his sleeping off the alcohol on the floor of-
Mary began laughing and cut through his thoughts.
"Holmes, what did you do?" John asked nervously.
"Mr. Holmes," Mary said as gently as possible. "I think you need to revisit any possible repressed memories from last night." She looked at him pointedly.
Sherlock's expression fell. And in the instant she said it, he was transported back to the previous night and could clearly remember the details that his addled mind had failed to recall this morning.
"Oh, dear Lord," he murmured after a moment, looking horrified. Now it was clear why she was so uncomfortable to see him just now. It was also quite clear why he had ended up sleeping on the floor in that hallway. In fact, he was fortunate that was all that had happened. Sherlock was well aware that she could have slapped him.
She would have had every right.
Oh, Sherlock, why you gots to mess things up?! Oh right...because DRAMA. :D Sorry for the cliff hanger, but I promise you will find out what happened the night before in the next chapter. And I'll be continuing with the wedding reception as well. Sherlock will need to prove himself and make up for...whatever it was he said or did. ;) Hopefully I'll have another chapter in the next week or two, but I'm also trying to use free writing time for my Sherlolly Big Bang challenge fic. So it's possible this will be slower going now. As always, thanks for the excitement and follows and stuff, and I'll see you next chapter! ;) And of course thanks to MizJoely because she's an excellent beta reader! ;D 3
