LAST CHAPTER!

Can you believe it took me the whole season to finish this? Wow how do you lot put up with my epic slowness?
I can never thank you enough for the amazing response this silly fic has gotten! :) Hugs for everyone!
Thank you all so much 3333

PS. A sequel for this story is in the works...

Ch. 8

-Now And Forever-

Kitty tugs at the bindings of her dress, wriggling uncomfortably at the way it pinches in her ribcage. She glances over at the large standing mirror in the corner of the room to give her reflection a critical once over. She looks like a high society lady done up in light yellow fabric and mother of pearl buttons. Her hair is artfully curled and pined, and her reflection is at least five years older than she is because of it.

"I don't see why I have to be gussied up like this." Kitty grumbles. "It's not like Sherlock or Joan would care."

Ms. Hudson taps her lightly on the head with a folded fan. Her words are reproachful. "I have worked long and hard on this wedding and everyone present is going to look presentable. Even you and Sherlock."

Kitty knows she will not be winning any arguments here - no one wins arguments against Ms. Hudson. The woman has been working none stop for the last month to throw together the perfect ceremony, one that will put the rest of London society to shame. Anyone who tried to stand in her way on the issue was mowed down with the efficiency of an English Battalion.

Primarily the person Ms. Hudson was fighting was Sherlock, who held firmly to the belief that a wedding need only consist of the barest requirements of the judicial system. Anything more was 'erroneous'. And Kitty got the impression the only reason Joan was going along with the plan - besides to please her parents - was that it annoyed Sherlock.

They are well suited for each other.

After the capture and arrest of Sebastian Moran, and the announcement of their impending nuptials, the media has not ceased to let up. They are alternately singing the praises of the detectives or making insulating remarks about how Watson must surely be with child. 221B has never been the center of so much attention, even when Sherlock has assisted Monarchs.

That is also why Ms. Hudson is determined to throw the world's greatest wedding. Truth be told, Kitty supports the idea whole heartedly. She hates people gossiping about her erstwhile family - though she wishes it did not mean wearing a fluffy dress.

"Now let's go get Joan, it is nearly time." Ms. Hudson hugs her in excitement before rushing out the bedroom door, leaving Kitty to trail after her.

Joan stares at her reflection in the mirror, while her mother busily pins pearls into her plated hair. She still is not quite sure how Ms. Hudson got her dress made so quickly, since it is rather unusual by English standards. Honestly Joan would have loved to see the seamstress' face when she got the order for it.

For of course it is red.

She absently spreads her fingers over the dyed lace and silk, as if remind herself this is actually happening. The cut of the dress is distinctly western, for so is Joan at heart, with a beaded corset and sweeping train. But even she could never wear a white gown to what is supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Somehow Ms. Hudson knew this without ever having to be asked, and so the silk currently pooling in swaths around her ankles is a bright crimson for good fortune.

Joan bites back a smile at the thought.

"I saw that grin." Remarks her mother with a conspiratorial smile of her own. "Are you excited? I was a ball of nerves when I married your father."

Joan meets her mother's gaze in the mirror. "I thought you were still mad at Sherlock?"

Mary Watson laughs brightly. "Oh that is just your father. Even if all this publicity has done his business wonders in diplomacy. He will get over it though, since Mr. Holmes is quite charming and well connected. You know he had me over for tea last week?"

Joan does distinctly remember Sherlock begging Ms. Hudson for help in the matter. She tries to imagine her soon to be husband as 'charming' to anyone other than her and really cannot. Most would say something more like a 'loveable human disaster', at best. Sherlock is a bit too manic for most people.

"I know he has been hoping to smooth things over. He does not wish you to be angry with my choices." Now Joan does smile, recalling Sherlock's endless pacing on the subject.

After Moran was captured in his attempt to flee the city and arrested for the murder of Hubert King, and they realized Adler/Moriarty had slipped from their grasp, certain conversations had to be revisited.

"I want you to stay." Sherlock had blurted out as they began packing away the case notes.

Joan turned to face him and took in his frightened rabbit appearance. Emotions were difficult for him to express, he looked strained. Her heart pounded in her chest at his words. Their kiss was still at the forefront of her mind, and the feeling of his fingers in her hair.

"I mean if - if you wished to remain here." Sherlock began to ramble, flushing deeply. "I would be amenable to that - umm… if you were amenable."

Joan smiled slowly, happiness bubbling up inside her chest. "Yes."

He blinked. "Yes?"

She took his hands in hers. "Yes."

Sherlock watches Joan speaking to her brother and sister-in-law, who have come down from Kent. Kitty is being lead around the dance floor by Joan's father, stumbling in her new shoes. The laughter and candle light make Joan's features glow, which he finds oddly mesmerizing.

Her crimson gown shines brighter than anything else at the reception party. It is the subject of many whispered debates Sherlock has already overheard tonight. Some find it daringly beautiful, some shockingly outrageous, and a few question its implications of her compromised virtue. Not many Londoners know that red is simply the traditional wedding color in Chinese culture. Idiots.

His wife - good lord what a concept - spots him eyeing her and smiles like starlight which nearly stops the beat of his heart. When exactly did he become a rambling poet? How embarrassing. She turns back to her conversation leaving him wishing they could return to 221B now.

"Sherlock Holmes married, I never would have guessed it." Captain Grayson's voice brought him back to the present.

Grayson and Bell materialize on either side of him in his hidden nook under the shadows of the trees. Bell presses a glass into his hand with a brilliant grin. Sherlock sniffs the tumbler gingerly - soda water, at least his friends know better than to apply him with spirits. Grayson claps him on the shoulder good naturedly, and he is surprised by the contact.

"Congratulations." Bell says. "You certainly married up."

"Indeed." Sherlock hurries to change the subject. "No word on the wareabouts of Miss Adler yet?"

The Captain frowns. "Gone with the tides."

"Stop worrying about it." Bell insists in a teasing voice. "You have got a beautiful woman who for some inexplicable reason wants you. Now go dance with her before I do."

They snatch the glass back from his hands and collectively shove Sherlock towards Joan. He stumbles into the lights, shooting them an irritated glare over his shoulder as he straightens his tuxedo.

Sherlock taps Joan lightly on the shoulder, noticing the way her collar carefully hides the scar of the gunshot wound there. "Might I have this next dance?" He says stiffly knowing his face is warm.

Joan tilts her head thoughtfully, her red lips curving up. "You are actually going to ask this time?"

"It is better than setting the curtains on fire." He grins recalling their first conversation.

Joan laughs, leaning up to kiss him, while her brother and sister-in-law look on in confusion. He does not blame them.

"Much better." Joan agrees taking Sherlock's hands.