On the day of their wedding, most grooms were at least slightly nervous, hyperaware of the time and venue, and did not have their paperwork -still cooling from the presses- haphazardly stuffed in their breast pocket.
Sherlock Holmes was not like most grooms.
This became blindingly obvious as his long-suffering best man watched him leisurely exit the café after brunch.
"Shouldn't we be more urgent in going to retrieve your bride?" Asked Watson.
Holmes stilled on the sidewalk, momentarily confused before remembering. "Considering today is a mere formality, I see no hurry to extend social pleasantries with Officer Lefay's household. Anything superfluous to our legal agreement can safely be left behind, including the receiving line."
Watson rolled his eyes as he flagged down a cab. "Firstly, the receiving line happens after vows. Secondly, do you know how to get to the Fae District, without help from any Fae?"
As they settled inside the cab, Holmes opened his mouth to give directions, but realized he didn't have an answer for Watson's question. The Fae District was absent from any maps of London and was notoriously hard to find when one was looking for it.
Watson held out a sizeable sum to the cabbie. "We've business in the Fae District. Get us as lost as you can, and there's more where this came from if you can do it as fast as possible."
The cab was off like a shot, propelling both men back into the seats. Watson caught his hat as it flopped off his head and promptly pulled it over his face, blocking out any street signs he might see from the window.
"Surely you don't believe that old wives' tale about getting lost, do you Watson?" Holmes asked skeptically.
"I wouldn't if I hadn't heard about Inspector Bradstreet accidentally ending up at the stage door of the Oberon after Hopkins' stag night. But for this to work, I implore you to keep your encyclopedic knowledge of London's geography entirely to yourself."
Holmes huffed a reply, but dutifully aided Watson when they were finally released from the cab (near Camden, if anyone had asked the detective), and even spun him around a couple times to help disorient him. As soon as Watson got his bearings enough to stand, he grabbed his flatmate by the sleeve and immediately took the first three lefts he could find. Before Holmes could complain about Watson putting them on the exact street where they started, he looked up to see a completely different part of town stretching before him.
"I must ask the Leopard about this," he whispered.
Most people would take some time before noticing all the differences between the Fae District and the rest of London, but Sherlock Holmes was not most people. Right away he saw the colored smoke billowing out of the chimney of a nearby jinxery, the clockwork dragonfly floating free above a child, and the flower seller growing flowers to maturity with her hands. Both men stood still for a moment, taking in the sights, before Watson was reminded of their purpose by a trio of Fae Liaison Officers walking nearby.
"We seem to have been deposited near the middle of the Fyn's Walk. Endor Street shouldn't be too far this way."
If Holmes pace quickened as they neared their destination, Watson made no note of it. But soon enough, they stood in front of a respectable house on a residential street, burgundy in color with a turret, and a crest of seven faces over the door. With a deep breath, Holmes walked through the gate and up the stairs. The front door opened before he could reach the knocker, meeting the bemused gaze of Nainya Pendragon. The gentlemen attempted as fast a recovery as possible, tipping their hats in greeting.
"Lady Pendragon, I presume?" Asked Holmes on his best behavior. "What a wonderful surprise to see you. Is… today a day off for your staff?"
Nainya laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't miss seeing this for the world." From behind her shoulder popped Arabelle Thain like a robin in spring, her auburn hair in a Psyche knot and her expression anxious. Her eyes flicked between the two men before narrowing in on Holmes.
"Celeste, your cad is here!" She yelled at the upstairs hallway behind her.
"Just a moment," barked a voice from somewhere upstairs. "And don't insult him; that's my job!"
"Do come inside. Meet the maid of honor," said Nainya as she waved them to the foyer.
Watson inclined his head towards the ladies as he entered. Holmes ignored any hostility from Arabelle and shook her hand warmly.
"Head Nurse Thain, I must commend you on your leadership and bravery during the Faepox outbreak this past winter. From the way Officer Lefay tells it, the health of the entire Fae District rested on your capable shoulders."
Arabelle was taken aback by his earnest compliment, furthermore that it was towards her vocation, and not her appearance or ability to keep house. "Your kind words are noted, sir," she said, straightening her back and aloofly nodding her head. "But I was merely doing my duty. Once medicine found a viable treatment, it was necessary to be taught and utilized as quickly as possible."
As their talk turned to her work, Nainya leaned toward Watson with a knowing glint in her eye. "Isn't he a clever one? He knows who he really needs to impress of his in-laws," she whispered.
"Glad to hear you approve of the match, Lady Pendragon," Watson whispered back. "Even though I'm sure you're informed of it's true nature."
"It was told to me that way, but we both know their best laid schemes and what actually happens may greatly diverge."
Watson chuckled as Celeste Lefay emerged at the staircase. Holmes ceased conversation abruptly, looking up to her with an appreciative smile. She looked every inch a respectable, middle-class bride, with her light blue frock and soft chignon under her hat, but that lopsided smile was entirely herself. As she extended a gloved hand for him to take, the other three standing in the hallway exchanged Looks.
"Leopard, do you think you kept us waiting long enough?" Holmes asked teasingly.
"Only giving you enough time to enjoy the Fae District. I had an inkling you'd get distracted, Derryn," she fired back with a wink.
"I anticipate the guided tour in future. But alas, today we must stop by a church before the afternoon train."
At mention of their destination, Arabelle huffed under her breath and Nainya joined the conversation between the bride and groom. "It is utterly tragic I cannot join you for what I'm sure is a once in a lifetime event, however I must introduce a lecture at the Third House today. Celeste, I've taken the liberty of having your bags sent to the train to pair with your friends'. Do enjoy yourself at least a little without me."
This she said with a wink and a scowl flickered across Celeste's face in retort, but the four members of the wedding party were shooed out of Dee House before anyone else could notice. All the while, Lady Pendragon grinned like a Cheshire cat and Celeste felt the tiniest butterfly flapping around her midsection at the reminder of their wager. She dismissed the feeling with a determined nod as she hailed a Leprechaun cab for the group. Her spirits lifted as Arabelle started conversing with Doctor Watson about medicine. She let out a full-throated laugh as he told a story of a particularly pompous head doctor. Holmes and Lefay shared a small smile as their friends bonded and the carriage slowed.
The cab let them out on a quiet corner of a city block in the heart of London. It was working class, and a little run-down, but clean. All around them row houses and tenements choked together, comfortably nestled next to each other around the plain white church on the street corner. A simple yet elegant sign stood in front of the churchyard advertised the times of services for the Saints of the City chapel.
"How lovely," exclaimed Arabelle, admiring the architecture and the delicate patch of hyacinths adorning the gate. "How on earth did you find this place, Mr. Holmes?"
He chuckled. "Reverend Greene has been a valuable informant in circles I do not follow, as well as helpful in aiding some of the more working-class members of London when they need more sustainable help than I can provide. He is also wonderfully adept at keeping a secret. So, without further ado…" he offered his hand to Celeste.
Arabelle looked at their hands together, a question forming on her brow. "Do either of you have rings?" A confused look passed between the two betrothed. "And don't give me any claptrap about it being a frivolous vestige of society. People are going to expect you to wear rings on your honeymoon."
After a pregnant beat, Celeste's confusion began to morph into a look of alarm, but Holmes thought fast. "There is a pawn shop one block west of here."
"We can make it with time to spare if we run," Celeste said with a nod. They grabbed hands and sprinted down the street as Watson and Arabelle watched in exasperation.
"Or you could wait, maybe think things through…" she called futilely after them before sighing in resignation. With a similar sigh, Watson strolled through the churchyard to sit down on a bench. Arabelle joined him.
"Forgive me Doctor Watson, but I was certain your friend was intent on Celeste's ruin. Only after I saw them today, I think it's different."
"Like two of the most intelligent people in London are blind as bats?" Watson offered.
"Precisely! She's usually so guarded and skeptical with new people, but the past year she's been so… happy. And I worry she doesn't realize that the feeling is mutual."
"That is my worry toward Holmes as well. They've been good for each other, but too wary of heartbreak to trust anything more than friendship. But I've had to watch them together for over a year now, and there is no doubt in my mind they are in love. I hope they realize it, for all our sakes." Watson looked in the direction of the pawn shop with a wistful smile. "Their love is a hunger, and they could be sustained for years on it should they allow. Or it could drive them to ravenous anger if it is starved."
Before Arabelle could ask more about the trio's past adventures, the oblivious lovers in question came bounding back around the corner, hands clasped tight and swinging between them. At the same time, a door from the church opened and out popped the reverend. He had a shock of white hair and the slight frame of a man in his twilight years, but fiercely intelligent eyes peered at the scene from behind his spectacles.
Watson rose from his seat, offering his hand to the clergyman. "A pleasure to see you again, Reverend Greene. I hope Holmes hasn't kept you waiting too long. He is on his way presently."
"I see," said the reverend with an amused chuckle. He greeted the happy couple as they rushed into the shadow of the steeple. "A pleasure to see you, Mr. Holmes. And you, Miss, must be his new partner in crimefighting?"
"Certainly the better-looking, more heavily-armed of partners he's had," interjected Watson wryly, before becoming distracted by Celeste's left hand. "Holmes, what have you inflicted on Officer Lefay's ring finger?"
Holmes proudly lifted Celeste's hand to show off the gaudy, emerald encrusted ring she now wore. "It was the perfect style for an heirloom matching the social class in our cover story, and it was one of the cheapest rings in the shop."
"That's one of the ugliest pieces of jewelry I've ever seen," said Arabelle, softly horrified.
Watson agreed. "It looks like a growth."
Celeste cackled. "I think it's hilarious. And aside from that, it will go right back to the pawn shop once our mission is complete. Why not have a little fun now?"
"A lovely sentiment, Officer," said Reverend Greene. "Though now I believe there is some paperwork the two of you must finish before you are on your way." He gestured to the doorway into the sanctuary and the group dutifully filed inside.
And it was in a quiet, sunlit corner of Saints of the City that Sherlock Holmes and Celeste Lefay were married. The ceremony was short and not particularly romantic, though the wedding party remained in happy spirits. Instead of saying 'I do', Celeste answered the question with 'If I must' and a crooked smile. Holmes replaced his answer with 'I suppose' and a smirk of his own. Paperwork was signed by all necessary parties, and no one objected to their union. At the end of the vows, the reverend raised his hands in benediction.
"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."
There was a second's pause as Watson realized he wasn't going to do it. Out of fear, pride, or insecurity, Holmes wasn't going to kiss Celeste. Likely he would wave off such affection with an excuse of not needing such formalities. And most best men would let him get away with it.
But John Watson was not most best men.
Just as Holmes opened his mouth to speak, Watson cleared his throat in a way that sounded remarkably similar to the word 'coward'. Holmes shot him a venomous glance but said nothing. Instead, he gently turned up Celeste's chin and planted a solid, if chaste, kiss on her lips. Arabelle started clapping, and Holmes' ears turned pink. He immediately shied away to talk about documents and government addresses with the reverend. Celeste let him go with a nod and a smirk, but the look she shared so briefly with her friend could be best described as giddy.
And in that moment, Watson almost missed the little tremble in Holmes' hand where he had touched her. Almost.