Sherlock Holmes held both hands tightly over his eyes like a toddler who thought if he couldn't see then he couldn't be seen. He gripped the bouquet of flowers tightly in the crook of his arm, positioned his back to the corridor, and stepped backwards carefully until he reached the door. He moved one hand off his eyes, covering them with the other, and knocked.

The door opened, he heard a familiar laugh, and someone touched his arm.

"It is quite alright, Mr. Holmes," Mrs. Hudson said. "You may open your eyes."

He peeked, took a sigh of relief, and turned around.

"Did you walk through the hallway backwards?" Mrs. Cecil Forrester asked.

Holmes felt his face flush red and he held his hands out while lifting his shoulders.

Mary Morstan smiled and came up to him, taking the flowers he was holding.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," she said. "Don't laugh at him, Mrs. Hudson, he's a perfect gentleman and I would expect nothing else, even if it was a bit silly of him to be afraid of a few women."

Holmes smiled, leaned down, and kissed her cheek. "You look radiant, Ms. Morstan," he said. "May I escort you when you are ready?"

"Of course," she said.

"Wait," chimed in Mrs. Forrester. "You said you wanted this." The lady held up a small ornament of red which seemed to be made out of beads and was shaped like a flower.

"Oh," Mary said, and she smiled almost sadly as she took it in hand. "It was just a silly idea. It doesn't really match my dress, does it? Mrs. Forrester, Mrs. Hudson, won't you please help Claire get Lucy ready? I'll put this away." Mary went to place it in her bag, but Holmes took it from her.

"It's beautiful," he said, holding it up to a better light. "Where did you obtain it?"

Mary's smile was still sad. "When my father was in charge of a British fort in India, back when my mother was still alive, he and some of the other officers were invited to the wedding of a nearby princess to promote peaceful relations in the area. Father took my mother and me with him, and even though I couldn't have been more than five years old, I'll never forget it. It was beautiful, with colors and celebrations and grandeur everywhere. I remember thinking I was in a fairy story, and I didn't want to leave. The princess was beautiful and kind; when she saw me, a little English girl celebrating with her, she gave me this ornament. I always thought I'd wear it at my own wedding, but that seems so... childish now, I suppose."

"Do you know what I think?" Sherlock Holmes asked.

"I'm sure I don't," Mary said with a laugh.

"I think," Holmes said seriously, "that it is a lovely sentiment. It was a precious gift, and is a beautiful reminder of your own family." He was much taller than her, and so he didn't need her to turn in order to arrange it in her hair, securing it at the side of her up-do. "There," he said, "I think that looks lovely. Though, of course, you will want to arrange it yourself. Forgive me, but I never had a sister. Until today, of course, if only in spirit."

Mary seemed startled for a moment and so Holmes swallowed hard. "I didn't mean…" he started to say, but was cut off by Mary standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

"You really think it looks alright?" she asked, peering at herself in the mirror.

"I say," Holmes replied, "that if you have always wanted to wear it, then you should wear it even if it doesn't compliment your dress and features perfectly, which it does. In fact, if you wanted to drop your lovely yellow dress into cranberry juice until it is as red as the dress of any Indian princess, then I would tell you to do that as well, and if John Watson fails to swoon at the sight of you then I shall thrash him myself."

Mary laughed. "I don't want to be a princess, Mr. Holmes. I want to be a doctor's wife. And a consulting detective assistant's wife, of course," she corrected herself with a smile. She looked in the mirror again, smoothing her dress. "I know white has been all the rage lately," she murmured, "but I do love this dress. You really think John will swoon?"

"Ms. Morstan, I have had to watch John swoon all morning at the mere thought of you. I assure you, it was quite a relief to be sent out on my best man's duties. Oh, and speaking of John, I hope you won't think I'm presumptuous but…" he cleared his throat.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"I made a list," he said sheepishly. "Everything I can think of about John Watson." He presented it to her. "All the dates which are important to him for one reason or another, all the names of friends as well as people he only pretends to like, everything that cheers him up when he's in a brown study…" he shifted uncomfortably. "I see now that it seems a little ridiculous, but I was thinking at the time that it might make your first few months of adjusting to married life a little smoother. Please, forget it…" he went to take the list back, but Mary held onto it.

"It's a thoughtful gift," she assured him. "Don't fear: your good Mrs. Hudson has also ensured I'll take good care of John. And don't you forget what I've told you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I expect you to be a good friend. We will be very busy for a while, but you will always be welcome."

"You can be assured, Ms. Morstan, that John has never fallen out of my favor. I will strive to be a good friend."

Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Forrester returned with Mary's friend Claire, who had an adorable little girl in her arms.

Holmes held out his arm, and Mary took it.

"Who knew he was such a ladies man?" Mrs. Hudson murmured, and all the ladies giggled.

Sherlock Holmes blushed again, but he also smiled, and everything felt right.

For the prompt from Domina Temporis: Royal wedding.