Hello! No, the adventures of Holmes & Watson are most surely not at an end. There may be long periods between updates (sooo sorry, btw) BUT it will be finished. Eventually. For now, I would like to invite you to the wedding of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler. Enjoy & review! I'd love to hear from you!

Chapter 11

"For it was not into my ear that you whispered, but into my heart.

It was not my lips that you kissed, but my soul." ~Judy Garland

"Married? To that... that woman?" Watson whispered fiercely. He more than likely would have been shouting if Irene were not in the next room playing with Mary.

"Yes."

"Have you completely taken leave of your senses?"

"On the contrary, Watson," Holmes said in a perfectly calm manner, "I've never made a more sensible decision in my life."

Watson laughed humorlessly. "Now that I do not doubt, but it's not saying much."

"Watson, the woman I love, the only woman I could ever love has come back to me. I will not lose her again."

The doctor sighed heavily. "I suppose I can't blame you for that," he said, knowing he would do just about anything to have Mary with him again. "When is the wedding then?"

Having poured two glasses of whiskey, Holmes handed one to Watson. "Two hours. That should be enough time for Irene to find a suitable dress, and..."

"Two hours?" Watson cried, choking on his drink. "You're getting married today?"

Holmes frowned. "But of course my dear Watson. Don't be absurd."

Watson rolled his eyes. The man was getting married in two hours, yet he was the one who was being absurd. "Holmes, a marriage is not something you simply throw together in a matter of hours!"

"I see no reason why not."

"You must send out invitations, find a minister, and then there's the flowers, and the food, and the music..."

"Nonsense. You know I've never been a particularly religious man, Watson. A judge will suffice. And there are exactly nine different flower vendors from here to the courthouse at which to purchase a bouquet. Invitations are of little to no importance, as the only people I would care to invite happen to be in the flat at this very moment."

"What of your brother?"

"I wired him last night, he'll be here within the hour. And with so few of us, a grand dinner is not necessary and our old phonograph will provide adequate entertainment for the evening." With a smirk, he looked to his friend and asked, "Have I forgotten anything, Mother Hen?"

"The ring?" Watson asked, thinking he had him.

Holmes simply smiled. "Picked it up on the way here, old boy. Irene's judgement of such things is far superior to my own, so I left it up to her discretion. The little bauble rests comfortably in my breast pocket for the time being. Truly, the only thing left to do is procure a best man. Will you do me the honor?"

Watson shook his head and smiled. "Of course. Although, I'm afraid there is no real time to give you a proper stag party."

"I've never been much for tradition," Holmes shrugged. "And, judging by your own, I'm rather glad you'll not be hosting one in my honor. Honestly Watson, that was the absolute worst stag party I have ever been to."

"You were the one that planned it!"

Holmes smirked, taking a sip of his drink. "Don't be ridiculous, Watson."

And so, two hours later, the small wedding party found themselves at the courthouse, facing Judge Thomas as he preformed the ceremony. Holmes, Watson, and Mycroft, who'd shown up just in the nick of time, were all sporting their best suits. Mrs. Hudson wore a smart plum colored dress, and carried a white handkerchief that was frequently brought out to dab at stray tears. As vehemently as she denied it, Watson knew she cared for Holmes as a son, and now was crying a mother's joyful tears at his wedding. Little Mary was beautiful in the flouncy pink gown Uncle Mycroft had brought her from Paris, and she watched her Uncle Holmes with wide eyes, as if she knew the importance of this day. Their lives would never be the same. The same thought had entered her father's mind. Nothing would be the same. But perhaps, that might not be such a bad thing. Never before had he seen his friend so purely happy. And Irene, in the white lace gown she had insisted upon, was positively radiant as she gazed at Sherlock.

"Do you, Sherlock Holmes, take Irene Adler to be your lawful wedded wife, to live in the holy estate of matrimony..."

"I do," Holmes nodded, his voice confident and sure. And perhaps a tad too eager. Watson could not help but chuckle at Judge Thomas' surprised expression.

Luckily, the judge was relatively familiar with the antics of Sherlock Holmes, and was able to recover quite quickly. "Yes, well... good then." He turned next to Irene, and said, "Do you, Irene Adler, take Sherlock Holmes to be your lawful wedded husband, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?"

Patiently waiting for Judge Thomas to finish speaking, she gave Sherlock a wink and smiled. "I do."

As the couple vowed to love each other for the rest of their lives, Watson reflected fondly on his own wedding day. Mary had been so very beautiful in her white gown and flimsy veil. And he... well, he had not been in the best shape thanks to a certain best friend of his. But Mary had been gracious, as always, accepting and forgiving him. Loving him when he didn't deserve her. But, as he kissed little Mary on the cheek, he found the pain of losing her was no longer as sharp as it had once been. It was now a seemingly constant, dull ache, soothed only by the sweet girl he held in his arms now. A part of herself Mary had left behind for him, so she would never be forgotten or truly far from his heart. In spite of all that he had suffered, he regretted none of it. He had loved, and was loved in return. And he was glad his friend had finally found that same joy.

"With this ring, I thee wed," Holmes said, eyes shining as he slid the diamond ring onto Irene's finger. "Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Judge Thomas said, smiling at the couple. "You may now kiss..."

Once again the judge was cut off by an impatient groom. Holmes leaned in to kiss Irene, savoring the sweetness of her soft lips. They broke apart when their small party of attendants began to applaud. Mary even clapped her little hands together and began to laugh. It was quite the picturesque scene as the party left the courthouse. Two carriages were waiting to take them all back to Baker Street. As Holmes was helping Irene up, a man brushed past him rather roughly, enough to cause a brief flare of pain in his injured shoulder. Whipping his head about, he spotted the man who was looking back at him. A chill ran through Holmes. Those eyes. He'd seen them before, he was sure of it.

"Something wrong?" Irene asked from within the carriage, pulling him from his trance-like state and bringing his attention back to her.

"No. It's nothing, my love," he said, forcing a smile. He glanced back once more in the direction of the stranger, but he had vanished into the crowd. With a sigh, he hoisted himself up into the carriage. "Driver," he called with an ornery grin, taking Irene's hand in his, "take us home."

Up and down Baker Street, soft trills of music could be heard leading to Ms. Hudson's boarding house. The parlor had been cleared specifically for the dancing couples that twirled about the room, swaying to the music that played through the phonograph. Wine glasses had been abandoned in favor of the current song, surely a favorite among those present. Laughter and lively conversation competed with the notes that floated through the air. Despite all this, Holmes' gaze scarcely left his new bride. Irene noticed, and her cheeks bloomed a becoming shade of pink. A rare but welcome sight indeed. "How are you this evening, Mrs. Holmes?"

"Quite well, Mr. Holmes," she smiled demurely, looking up through her thick lashes at her husband. "How are you?"

Holmes placed a kiss on her nose. "I am in raptures, my darling. Although, I am wondering when I get to steal you away?"

As the song finished, Irene kissed his cheek, her breath warm as her answer brushed his ear. "Soon."

He watched as she sauntered across the room to ask his brother for a dance. He shook his head. Damn that woman! The sound of his niece momentarily tore his attention away from his bride. He turned to see Watson, and little Mary stretching her arms out eagerly for her Uncle Holmes. Only too happy to oblige, he took her from Watson who said, "Do you know what your brother has given my daughter?"

"I assume by your tone of slight annoyance you are not speaking of the fine Parisian gown the little princess is wearing."

"No, the dress is lovely. It's the nickname he has given her that I find so displeasing."

Holmes raised an eyebrow, looking to Mary as if she might have an answer. But she simply smiled at him, showing off her few baby teeth. Holmes sighed and turned back to Watson. "If I may be so bold as to ask..."

"Shirley," Watson groaned. "It doesn't even make logical sense!"

"Actually, old fellow, it makes perfect sense. After all, that is what he has called me for years."

"What does that..." Holmes watched as the realization dawned over Watson's face. The young father groaned. "Shirley is short for Sherlock. Well, I'm sorry, Darling," he sighed, stroking Mary's blonde curls. "I knew I'd regret giving you that name one day, I just had no idea it would be this soon."

"Pay no attention to him, Princess. You have a fine name," he assured her proudly, glancing at Watson in mock disgust. "And to think I was going to name my first born after you, you bas..."

"Be nice," Watson scolded. Mary had already began speaking a few words and he did not want her picking up her uncle's foul language. "Your first born, indeed," he continued with a laugh. "I couldn't hardly imagine you as a father. But then I never imagined you married either, or how was it you so elegantly phrased it, entering into eternal purgatory?"

"I said no such thing."

"In any case, you've proved me wrong on both counts. You are wonderful with Mary, and I've never seen you happier than I have today. Congratulations, old boy."

Holmes smiled. "Thank you, my dear Watson. But if you will now excuse me," he said, handing a very sleepy Mary back to her father, "I believe I owe my wife this dance."

One moment Irene was chatting with Mrs. Hudson, and the next she was being pulled into her husband's embrace as the pair began to waltz about the room. "Now this seems familiar," he teased, "though I can't quite seem to place it."

"Prague," she smiled coyly. "I was after the Prime Minister's crystal, and you were after a certain thief."

"Ah yes. And I caught her, did I not?"

"You did indeed, Mr. Holmes. Though I never thought I would give myself up so easily."

"Easily?" Holmes chuckled. "My dear, life with you has been anything but easy."

"I'm afraid that won't change, Darling."

Sherlock held her a bit closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Nor would I want it to, Mrs. Holmes."

A pair of blue eyes watched from the window, unseen by the blissful patrons of 221 Baker Street. "Enjoy your fairytale now, Mr. Holmes," muttered the stranger, "for you won't be getting a happily ever after."