"Today's the day. Sherlock." Victoria said, entering her brother's bedroom hesitantly. She was unsure of what she would find in her brother's room.
"I would rather you left, sister dear. Go attend to other matters." Sherlock said sitting in his chair un-moving
"Sherlock. You need to-"
"No, Victoria. I. Don't. Have to do. Anything. You. Need to leave. Now!"
"Alright, then. I'll just leave your suit here then. I'm sorry, Sherlock. I know that doesn't mean anything, but I am. I wish everything had ended...differently." Victoria's sentiment met with a frigid silence.
With one last sparing glance at her brother, she left him to his own devices.
Since he woke up that morning, all Sherlock could think was, Today's the day, the day for battle. Only twice in his life did Sherlock ever think of marriage and himself in the same instance. Once when he was first in a relationship with Richard Brook, and the second time when he went on his first date with John Watson. When it came to Richard Brook, he only thought of how this was not a man who one gets married to. With John- it took all of Sherlock's will not to cry at the thought.
John Watson was the man Sherlock loved, and he was to be buried six feet under in the local cemetery - in the plot originally reserved for Sherlock himself. A place Sherlock would not be allowed to follow him to if his family had their way. Soon his family would include Richard Brook.
Sherlock jumped at the knock on his door.
"Victoria, I told you to-" Sherlock was cut off by Mrs. Hudson entering his room. "Oh."
"Hello, dear. I just wanted to know if you needed anything, any help.
"If only you could help, . If only you could..." Sherlock whispered to himself into the mirror in front of him.
"What was that dear?
"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I need to change and head over to the church."
"Alright, dear. But if you do need anything, just let me know." Mrs. Hudson left, leaving behind even more sadness than before she came. Sherlock collapsed to the ground once he no longer heard her receding footsteps. Sherlock thought he had gotten all of his tears out, but more came. Every time he thought of John, he cried. His John, gone.
Sherlock stayed in that position until he heard the church bell chime three. He did not have long to finish dressing.
"Battle stations..."
Sherlock could not believe what was happening. He was at the altar, standing in front of a priest, being married to Richard Brook. Sherlock was sure that before it got to this point, John would have stopped the wedding. Then he remembered. His John was dead. John Watson, who had sparked light back into his bleak and lonely life, was killed. Sherlock would have begun to tear up if his body had had any more tears to shed. Sherlock had not eaten or drunk anything in the past three days. In any other situation, this would be just fine with him, but he knew what was to come once the wedding was over. He knew he would not have the strength to endure what Richard Brook had in store for him.
"If there is anyone here who believes that these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace." Sherlock did not even bother to look out at the small assembly. He knew he would not find what he would have wanted to see. Sherlock was already retreating within himself in preparation for the rest of his life. Richard, on the other hand, gave a satisfied grunt after giving a sweeping glance at their audience. As the priest was about to speak once more, the doors to the church flew open.
"I object! I, John 'Not Dead' Watson, a local doctor and former member of the Pony Express, do object to the wedding of Sherlock Holmes and Richard Brook, aka James Moriarty!" By the end of his declaration, John had made it to the altar to stand next to Sherlock, and begin forcing Moriarty to release his hold on Sherlock.
"Thank the Hevans!" The priest said, forming a cross over his body and looking up.
John ignored the priest's declaration and continued the task he had at hand. Sherlock, on the other side, was in shock. So engrossed was he that he did not notice when he was being pulled further away from John and had a gun placed to his head.
"Now everyone, calm down. If you all sit back down, nothing will happen." Sherlock was beginning to feel the gun pressing against his skull, but only just. There was something keeping him from reacting.
"Jown..." Sherlock slurred the words, and his vision began to darken.
"Sherlock. Sherlock! Wake up, wake up!" John was yelling at him from the other side of the room. Moriarty was dragging Sherlock to the exit. John could see Sherlock losing consciousness and a new glint in the eyes of his captor. John knew that nothing good would come from letting Moriarty leave the chapel.
"Don't even try it, Johnny boy. Nothing you could possibly do could save him. He is mine. After tonight he will understand that too."