Chapter six: Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes

I felt terrified as I walked up to the aisle, clutching onto my father's arm. I was so frightened that I barely knew where I was. My father's life was in danger for some unknown reason and my life was part of that danger. In addition, my marriage, to Sherlock Holmes, while in addition to him being a wealthy man, he was also a very powerful man. His family could provide all the protection I needed to be safe.

Sherlock faced ahead until I was about ten paces away from him. He did turn and look at me and the look in his eyes did cause me to flush. However, something, perhaps his brother's presence beside him, caused him to sober up. My father gave my hand to Sherlock and whispered. "Take care of her."

Sherlock didn't answer, but he nodded his head at my father. His grip wasn't warm or inviting, it was loose. I bit my lip and looked ahead as the minister droned on. Mrs. Holmes said that the fact that Sherlock agreed to marry me was evidence that he had feelings for me. However, standing here, I was inclined to believe that she didn't know her son as well as she claimed. There was nothing, nothing about him to suggest that he had any interest in me at all.

I got the confirmation that I was correct that he felt nothing to me when it came time to read the vows. He held my hand and began to speak the familiar wedding vows. "I, Sherlock, take you Tammy, to be my wedded wife." His tone betrayed no emotion, he sounded almost like a machine, the pitch never changing. "To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer. For poorer, in sickness or in health, 'till death do us part." My head shot up at that part. He'd deliberately left out 'to love and to cherish.' He'd sworn to everything, but those two things, which my heart had desired. To do so in a church, before all these witnesses, was a statement to what I was sure of. Mrs. Holmes was wrong and I was right. He had no feelings for me whatsoever. "And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

I was silent for a long moment, what could I do? I risked a glance back at my father. But the worry and pleading in his eyes convinced me that I had to go through with this charade. I cleared my throat and recited the vows as straightforward as I could. "I, Tammy, take you Sherlock, to be my wedded husband." I inhaled deeply. "To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer. For poorer, in sickness or in health," I hesitated for a moment, before deciding to follow his example. I didn't love Sherlock and I couldn't cherish him. "'till death do us part." I could feel Sherlock gazing at me in surprise so I focused on his hand. "And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

Sherlock then placed the ring on my hand. It was a simple silver band. My hands shook slightly until he put the band on my hand. He gripped both my shaking hands in his, steadying them. In fact, I could have sworn he was attempting to take my pulse. I looked up at him curiously, as he glanced down at me. I bit my lip and hastily looked down. There was something about Sherlock Holmes's sculpted face and piercing eyes that always served to cause my heart to lodge itself in my throat.

It was then that the minister spoke the words that I had completely forgotten about. "And now, by the power vested in me, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

The blood drained completely out of my face at those words. Sherlock's fingers gripped my hand tightly for a moment before loosening it. I couldn't look at him, I wouldn't look at him. If I added up all the time I'd known this man, it wouldn't have even been half an hour. I'd spent at the most fifteen minutes in his company. Now, I was his wife and I had to kiss him, in front of a group of people I didn't know.

"Forgot this part of the ceremony," Mycroft muttered. "little brother?"

Sherlock glowered at him. "Of course I didn't." Sherlock stepped towards me and I shifted back. "Stop moving." He placed his hands on my shoulders and muttered. "Don't move." I blinked rapidly, fighting back the waves of panic that washed over me as he leaned closer. "I'll make it brief."

I bit my lip and released it, closing my eyes as he kissed me on the lips. Dear God in heaven, this was not how I wanted my first kiss to be like! The moment our lips touched, I jumped in nervousness. The bouquet fell from my hands and I instinctively reached up and grabbed his forearms to steady myself. I felt him jump at my touch, but he didn't move. The kiss was appropriate and brief.

"Family and Friends, I present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes." Everyone let out happy cheers as we pulled back. I trembled and I nervously rung my hands.

"Pick up the bouquet Sherlock." Mycroft stated, loud enough for only Sherlock and I to hear. "Don't let your bride do it."

Sherlock knelt and picked up my flowers. I was still unsteady on my feet as he straightened up and handed me my bouquet. "What's the matter?" He asked. "Are you going to faint?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You're shaking."

I took the bouquet and played with the light blue ribbons. "I-I've never…been kissed before."

Sherlock was silent for a moment. "I am sorry." I looked up at him and I saw a form of regret in his eyes.

"Honest?" I whispered.

"Yes." He squared his shoulders and took my arm before facing everyone in attendance. "Had I known that, I would have told you to bring your lips in." I frowned at that statement, but he wasn't done yet. "I assumed that someone of your class and rank would have had experience in this sort of nature."

His words slashed me mercilessly and I looked down to keep the hate from being shown on my face. I got a look at my father's face. He looked relieved and somewhat at peace. However, it was my stepmother who was the curious one…she looked angry. Not a furious angry, but the type of angry that a dark storm cloud is, smoldering anger. It was then I wondered if my stepmother was involved with my father's troubles in some way. On the other hand, could she possibly be the cause of it?

"You might want to try smiling." Sherlock muttered as he guided me down the aisle. "After all, we did just get married."

"Shut up." I hissed through clenched teeth as I gripped his arm tighter. "You've insulted my character at my 'wedding day.' I will act as I think appropriate. Don't worry." I said. "Your reputation will be fine."

We exited the door of the stone church to find a photographer waiting for us. Sherlock groaned. "Ohh, God, no."

The photographer was oblivious to my new husband's disapproval as he instructed us to move closer together. Sherlock tucked his gray hat under his arm and gave the photographer. The man suggested I look up at my husband, but I couldn't do that. I lowered my roses and gazed down at their velvety petals. Evidentially, something about my expression delighted the photographer and he told me to hold that pose.

After the snap, I took a step away from Sherlock. His presence was most offensive to me now. Like an ant crawling up and down my spine. "Are you crying again?" Sherlock asked in a low voice. "I'll have you now that most men are uncomfortable about women that are crying."

"Most men would ignore the fact that their bride is in tears, especially when they know that the bride isn't in love the groom anymore than he's in love with her." I stated calmly as the carriage that was to bring us back to the reception pulled in front of us. "I believe that under the circumstances, I am behaving very well."

"Sherlock?" The sound of a man calling his name caused us to pause and turn around. A man, holding a bloody harpoon, caused everyone to stop and stare. The man look uncomfortable as he looked at us. "Geez, I'm sorry, but this will only take a minute."

Sherlock stepped towards him. "What is it Lestrade?"

John Watson, Sherlock's best man stepped towards him. "It's his wedding day Greg; can't you give him a day off?"

"I only need a minute." He looks at me. "Sorry miss, just need his opinion on where this might have been purchased."

"I don't mind." I state calmly. "It's fine with me."

Sherlock studied the harpoon for a moment. "You won't find this in any store. This is handmade, obviously by an older man. You can tell by the weight and balance of the harpoon that he knows his craft. Probably a favorite of his, since he's got arthritis, so you're looking for an older man. You can see this by the indents that have been smoothed into the broom." He inhaled the wood deeply. "Have them test the varnish used. It's a higher grade varnish, so it's not commonly used." His eyes narrowed as he studied the blood. "Assuming that it went through a body, I would assume that it went completely thought and the killer was interrupted before taking away the murder weapon. Have you tested it for prints yet?"

Lestrade looked guilty. "No."

Sherlock groaned as he pulled out his handkerchief. "God! Why doesn't the station adapt to new methods?"

"I'm not the man who runs Scotland Yard." Lestrade points out. "Talk to him."

"I did. The man's an idiot." Sherlock wrapped his scarf around the handkerchief and handed it to Lestrade. "There. They should be able to get several prints off this. Any ideas on who killed the victim?"

"No."

"And the victim?"

"Angela Pitkin's. A baker's daughter."

"A woman was run through with a pitchfork?" Sherlock's eyes lit up in interest. "Fascinating. Wish you'd come to me on another day, otherwise I'd be helping you."

"Well, we're not completely incompetent."

Sherlock smirks. "Tell me that again someday when I need a laugh."

He turned towards me and I held up a hand. "Don't even bother making opening your mouth. Go ahead, they need your help."

John frowns at me. "Are you serious?"

I nod. "I am."

He frowned and eyed me curiously. "You're not…angry at all?" I shook my head. "Not in the least?"

I looked at him as if he were insane. "Why would I be angry? Somebody was murdered and the police need your help. Go! I'll be fine. Honest!"

Sherlock studied me for a long moment. "Right." He turned to Lestrade. "Let's go."

Lestrade eyed me. "Aren't you at least going to kiss the bride goodbye?"

Sherlock hesitated and looked at me. I didn't flinch under his gaze; he bit his lip before responding. "I don't think so. I'll make up for it tonight."

I swayed slightly as Sherlock hurried down the street with Lestrade following close behind him. His mouth was running in a far more excited tone than it had been when he recited the wedding vows. As I watched him leave, I realized that were a few things I did like about Sherlock Holmes. I liked his absence. I also loved the fact that he was a detective, because he was a detective, he would hopefully be absent for many days at a time.

I am sorry about the delay, all of a sudden I had jobs being thrown at me left and right. But I'd promised the next chapter and here it is! And to those who haven't guessed, the cover art is the image of their wedding day. Yes, I know the female is Jane Seymour from 'Somewhere in time,' but she was the image for Tammy that I wanted to project.