Oh boy, and here comes the fun! It's fluffy fun chapter time! Though, I suppose last chapter was too. Ok, I have nothing important to say so I will let you get to reading! ;)
"My goodness!" Lady Holmes exclaimed as she entered the sitting room and saw her youngest son rise to greet her. She rushed over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I could not believe it when they told me who was here! What a wonderful surprise! I did not imagine I would be seeing you again for quite a few months. To what do I owe this pleasure? I imagine you are here on some sort of specific errand, and not simply to see your poor mother."
Sherlock smirked at the little dig she got in as they sat on the couch. "You are right, of course. I am here for a reason. I have come to share some news."
"Really? Well I do hope it is nothing to do with that Moriarty fellow. I had heard that went rather well, though I am still waiting for your brother to write me back in more detail."
"No, it is nothing to do with him. And you are right, that went as well as could be expected. No, this is news of a more...personal nature."
Lady Holmes began to look concerned. "Darling, are you well?" she asked while reaching out to take her son's hand.
Sherlock sighed. "I am quite well, Mother. This is nothing to do with my health. What I needed to say is that as of this morning...I am engaged to be married." He met his mother's eyes and she stared back at him in silence for a moment.
Finally, Lady Holmes found her voice. "Sherlock, darling, I have heard that you occasionally do awfully odd things in the name of your work. Please tell me that this is nothing to do with a case."
"No," he said slowly. "It is nothing like that."
"And you haven't got some woman into any sort of...delicate situation."
Sherlock frowned and made a comical expression of horror. "What? No! No, there is nothing of that sort. This is nothing out of the ordinary. I am simply getting married because...I want to." He spoke the words with purposeful clarity, trying to get the point across.
Lady Holmes expression relaxed a bit, but clearly she was still stunned. "I see. Well...I do hope she is of good reputation and breeding."
This was the part that Sherlock was dreading more specifically. But he needed to be done with it. No point in prolonging the inevitable.
"There is no need for guessing games. You know her, so the simplest thing would be for me to tell you who she is." Sherlock swallowed. "The woman I am marrying is Miss Molly Hooper."
Lady Holmes eyes widened a bit and Sherlock saw her lips parting, but he didn't give her the chance to speak, jumping in again instead.
"Before you say another word, I think it is imperative that you understand something. I have come to you today to share this news, not because I am searching for either permission or blessing. This marriage will go forward and I will spend the rest of my natural life with Molly Hooper whether you give any approval or not. You are my mother, and as such, I will love and respect you regardless. But I am only here in order to share this news with you and tell you what will take place. And if you have any remarks which are at all outside the bounds of congratulations and acceptance, they will be spoken here, now, and never again. You may say whatever you wish to me, but I will not stand for my future wife and mother of my children having to hear one word of rejection. If you cannot abide by that, we will be forced to keep our distance."
Lady Holmes raised an eyebrow and gave him a weary smile, making him feel as if he were suddenly sitting next to Mycroft. "Are you quite finished with your dramatic little speech, Sherlock?"
He shifted his eyes nervously and cleared his throat. "Yes, I believe so," he answered quickly.
"Excellent," she answered. "Perhaps now I can manage to get a word in. Apparently it will come as a shock to you that I have no, as you put it, words of rejection to speak."
Sherlock's shoulders slowly began to relax.
"I suppose I can understand why you felt the need to come in here as if you were ready for battle, but I assure you that it is not necessary. Any shock that you have witnessed on my face was due to the fact that you are marrying at all, and has little or nothing to do with who you have chosen as a wife. Understand, Sherlock, that I had recently set my mind to accepting the fact that my youngest child would always be alone. I did not want it, but I felt I had to accept it. And granted, Miss Hooper is not the woman I would be likely to hand pick for you." Her expression softened into a smile as she gave her son's hand a squeeze. "But if you think that I will not love that woman as if she were my own flesh and blood, then you do not know me at all."
Sherlock's lips spread into a small smile as well, and he released a breath he'd been holding. He hadn't realized it mattered, but now that he had his mother's approval...he was glad.
"She is not like the former Miss Hawkins, of course," she continued. "But in all honesty, I cannot imagine how such a match would suit you. I cannot see someone like Miss Hawkins enduring the sort of existence that you live in London! But I can see Miss Hooper being comfortable with your work and your...unique personality. She is a good woman, Sherlock. I can honestly say that."
"Thank you, Mother. I am sure she will be especially pleased to hear it. In fact, you will be able to speak to her yourself this evening. I will be sending the carriage for her later. There is much that needs planning."
"Of course!" she said excitedly. "And you must have the wedding here!"
"I see little else as an option. Hardly time to move everyone, seeing as we will marry in about a week's time."
Lady Holmes gasped. "A week?! Sherlock! You cannot be serious! Good Lord, it is one extreme or another with you and your brother isn't it?"
Sherlock shrugged as he got up. "We wouldn't want you getting bored. Have to keep you guessing. Now, I am off to get some sleep, seeing as I got none last night. But I will see you at dinner, and we can all make some plans."
He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, leaving her to process the news she'd just received. She sat there smiling to herself, looking over by the fire and remembering things from so long ago. She could so clearly picture the little boy sitting cross legged by the fire with his mop of dark curls bent over a large book. There was a time when she believed she'd never see such a thing again in this house.
Lady Holmes controlled the lump in her throat, and smiled, knowing that her children were happy. And for any mother, there is really little else that matters.
Many hasty plans were made in the next couple of days. There was nothing to do but buy a dress in one of the local shops and alter it as best they could with what time they had. Word was quickly sent to Mycroft and Anthea, and they were told to hurry if they wanted to make it for the wedding. Sherlock did obtain a license, allowing them to marry in the church as soon as they pleased.
He also got some lovely news soon after arriving back at Seaborne. Apparently the Watsons had recently written to Lady Holmes, informing her that they would be stopping at Seaborne at the close of their bridal tour. Sherlock had been afraid he would have to do without his friend and cousin at his wedding, if he wanted it to go ahead on schedule. But since they would be arriving home so soon, he was thrilled that they would indeed make it back in time.
So, three days after Sherlock's arrival, the carriage arrived which had Mary and John aboard. He was pleased to be able to stand there at the door, waiting to see the look of shock on their faces.
"I can't believe you are here!" John exclaimed. "I never expected to see you till we got back to London!"
"Yes, well I made an unexpected visit. You see, I needed to be here. Though I won't be staying for more than another few days."
"What is it?" Mary asked. "What's going on?"
Sherlock wore a pleased smile. "It is certainly fortunate you've stopped at Seaborne before London. Since you have, you'll be just in time...for my wedding to Miss Hooper."
Both of their mouths dropped open and Mary began to cry. "Oh, Sherlock! Truly?"
"Yes, Mary, really," he said with a laugh. "Honestly, is it going to be this difficult to convince everyone?"
John shook his hand firmly and soon they were all happily sitting around the fire, hearing all the things they'd missed while being apart. John and Mary had heard little of the Moriarty case outcome, and of course wanted all the details of Sherlock's proposal. It was a very happy reunion for all of them.
Sherlock visited Molly every day for that following week before they were to marry. Each time he found it much more difficult to walk away and go home alone. Every touch, every kiss, every look, bound them together tighter. In both of their hearts, they already belonged to each other.
Mary practically had to pry Molly out of the room on the night before the wedding. By that day, Molly had been moved into the estate, making all the next day's activities easier.
"You need your rest!" Mary urged Molly, tugging at her even though Sherlock was still holding onto her hand.
Sherlock stepped forward before Mary could pull her away and bent down, kissing her as if there was nobody else in the room. Mary and Anthea exchanged a grin as the men groaned and averted their eyes.
"Tomorrow," Sherlock murmured as he pulled away slowly and looked down at his very red cheeked bride to be.
"Tomorrow," she whispered back, and finally left the room with Mary.
Anthea whispered something to Mycroft, kissed him on the cheek, and hurried out of the room as well, following Mary and Molly upstairs. It appeared there was something rather pressing to be discussed between the three women...
Sherlock sat back on the couch across from John and noticed that his friend was grinning at him with arms crossed over his chest.
"What?" Sherlock spat out.
"Oh, I just cannot see why everyone must always rush marriage along," John said with a satisfied smile, recalling Sherlock's own words from months ago.
Sherlock looked a little embarrassed as he recalled the conversation as well. He gave John a little smirk in return. "Well...perhaps I'll explain it to you when you're a bit older."
John chuckled. "I am in no need of explanations on that subject anymore!"
Mycroft set his glass on the table by the fire and got up with a sigh. "Do leave me out of this particular conversation. I believe I shall retire for the night. I will see you both in the morning."
He made a quick exit, causing Sherlock and John to exchange a laugh.
John stopped laughing though, and cleared his throat as he spoke again. "In all seriousness, perhaps this would be the time for a...conversation."
Sherlock frowned and snorted out another laugh. "Honestly, Watson, I am not an idiot. Especially considering I am a man of science...I know things."
"Well, yes, I realize you may grasp certain things. But that does not automatically make you an expert at something like this. This is different. You and Miss Hooper, together...that is not science."
"I beg to differ, Watson. Ultimately it is science," he said confidently.
John laughed in his head. Of course this is how a man to man chat with his best friend would go on the night before his wedding! "All right, I will admit that it does ultimately all come down to a sort of science. But what I mean is, it's not about science. For men like us, fortunate men like us, who's marriages are founded on genuine affection, it is something very different. It isn't science, or duty, and it is not even necessarily about children. It all boils down to the fact that you love her, and she loves you, and you both desperately want to express that...in a way that goes beyond words. You are figuratively telling her that you love her, and listening to her expressing the same. If you remember nothing else, remember that."
Sherlock stared back at his friend evenly, not wanting to give away the fact that John's words had made a bit of impact. He said nothing, so John spoke again.
"I'll say no more, lest this becomes a bit uncomfortable."
Sherlock put on a half-smile again. "Oh, I was not aware we hadn't reached that moment already."
This sent both men into another round of laughter.
Through John's continued giggles, he managed to say, "I think I must retire as well. Though I imagine Mary will be a long while."
"Why?" Sherlock asked as John got up to leave.
John shook his head at his friend. "Try some deduction. What sort of conversation do you imagine the three of them are having at this very moment?"
Sherlock swallowed hard.
"Exactly." John laughed as he went through the door. "Good night, Holmes, and do try and get some sleep."
Sherlock did exactly as he was told. He went to his room with Redbeard, and did his best to settle down. It wasn't easy, but he knew John was right. He caved and let Redbeard climb onto the bed with him.
The dog was asleep in no time, but it took a bit longer for the detective who's mind was still racing.
The wedding itself was a blur, as it commonly is. For Sherlock and Molly, it was a blur because they weren't paying attention to much of anything besides each other. But they happily went through the motions at the church, and then back at the estate.
Molly looked like something out of a dream. She wore a delicate white muslin gown. There weren't loads of adornments or frills, but it fit her beautifully and she looked as if she were glowing. It was a treat for her, having been confined to her small array of mourning attire for so long. She felt like she'd been reborn in the spring after a lengthy winter, despite the fact that it was late October and the air was awfully chilly all around her.
Sherlock looked much like his typical self, except for the finer vest made of white silk that he wore beneath his jacket. He hadn't cared much for exactly what he would wear, but his mother insisted on making sure his attire was just right. He wasn't terribly sorry later though.
He stood to the side of the room with Molly, and Redbeard sitting by their feet, hoping that none of the guests would come and steal her away again for the hundredth time. She turned toward him and very briefly ran her finger tips over the soft fabric.
"This vest is beautiful," she whispered, looking up at him. "You look perfect...I'm impressed."
"Well," he breathed out as he wove his fingers into hers. "I suppose I am glad I let my mother have a say."
"I'm glad your mother had a say in my attire as well. I still find it hard to believe she was able to have this completed in time."
"My mother can be as persuasive as I can," Sherlock said with a smile.
"I like her," Molly said honestly. "I think I shall actually miss her when we are in London."
They had made some decisions in that past week about their living situation. Molly did not need convincing that their primary residence should be at 221B Baker Street in London. The idea was actually thrilling to her. But they also agreed that Molly's family home should be kept. They decided that it would be an excellent place for them when they were in the country. The grand estate of Seaborne had its marvels, but it was not home to Molly. And besides the basement laboratory, Sherlock hardly felt at home there himself anymore.
It had been agreed upon that the couple would come back and visit in the country at least once a year. Though, secretly, Molly told Lady Holmes that she would do her best to coax a second visit out of Sherlock. The older woman had given her an affectionate smile and a pat on the cheek.
"I wish we were leaving right now," Sherlock whispered impatiently.
"We would be riding by carriage all the rest of today and tonight. We wouldn't arrive in London till some time tomorrow morning. Besides, the thought of traveling right now is awful! I know I will be much happier to make the journey tomorrow."
Sherlock and Molly had decided to spend their wedding night at Seaborne, and then depart for London the next day. The following night would be spent at an inn along the way, and then they would be home to Baker Street by the next day. A bridal tour wasn't something that seemed necessary to either of them. Sherlock wanted to be back in London for the purpose of taking cases if necessary, and Molly wanted to make herself at home in the Baker Street flat. What they really wanted was to be together, and be at home.
"I suppose it's fine," he conceded. "Though I am still growing a bit weary of this crowd," he said with a sigh.
"Oh congratulations!" exclaimed a voice behind them.
They both turned to see Tom and Janine approaching them and grinning. Their brief moment of blissful solitude had ended, and Sherlock was dearly wishing he could think of a way to get all these people to leave. Molly gave his hand a squeeze, signaling him to put on a happy face as they greeted Dr. and Mrs. Charles.
Another couple of hours passed before the group of guests began to slowly thin out. Sherlock finally broke free of the group of gentlemen that had been holding him captive and chatting about stupid things he cared nothing for. As he scanned the room, he couldn't see his new wife. He caught a glimpse of Mycroft leaning down to press a kiss to his wife's cheek as he gently laid a hand on her growing belly. Sherlock had to smile to himself, wondering if he ever could have imagined seeing such a thing some months ago.
Just as he was beginning to think he'd already failed as a husband and misplaced Molly, Mary came up to him.
"I wager you are looking for someone."
"I am. Any clues to offer?" Sherlock asked with a teasing smile.
"Yes, actually. In fact, I have a message for you. The new Mrs. Holmes asked me to tell you that she is waiting for you on the terrace." Mary stood on tip toes and gave her cousin a kiss on the cheek. "Congratulation again, Sherlock. Have Molly come to call once you are settled back in London. I will want to see how she is adjusting and offer support in any way I can."
Sherlock frowned. "Why should she need support?"
Mary laughed. "Sherlock, one thing you will learn from having a wife, it is that there are certain needs a women has which can only be fulfilled by the company of another woman. It is no great insult to the men who love us, but it is a universal truth. Learn to accept it and your life will be better for it."
"I will take your word for it, cousin. Now, if anyone looks for us, do make our excuses. I very much hope to disappear from this moment on," he said as he went down the hall and gave Mary one more wave.
Mary waved back and smiled happily to herself as she watched him walk away. She couldn't possibly be any happier for them.
The remainder of the sunshine was beginning to dip below the horizon as Sherlock walked to the wall of glass doors which opened onto the large terrace. He saw her, facing the glowing orange sky with her hands resting on the stone rail. It was an image that conjured a pleasant memory. So much had happened, and it seemed like an eternity since the last time he'd seen her standing there, just like that.
"It is hard to believe," he began, making her turn. "But I would venture to say that you are even more beautiful than the last time I followed you onto this terrace."
Molly grinned as he approached and slid his hands around her waist. "Is it the dress, do you think? Does it make such an impact?" she asked playfully.
"No," he answered in a deep murmur. "It is because now you are my wife."
He leaned down pressing a kiss to her lips. His hands anchoring more firmly around her back and Molly couldn't help but wrap her own arms around his neck. The kiss quickly became passionate, but after a moment, she pulled away.
"I confess I did not lure you onto the terrace in order to seek out your kisses," she said as she reached around her back to retrieve his hands.
"Oh, but you hardly seem to mind, Molly." He had quickly learned that softly speaking her name was a very easy way to make her smile. It was a simple thrill; that of using each others given names.
"Yes well," she brushed a wave of hair from her forehead. "For now, though, I had wanted to do something different. I was thinking that it had been a terribly long time since we had a dance."
Sherlock's mouth spread in a grin. "It has indeed. I do hope you have not forgotten everything I taught you," he said as he placed his right hand around her waist and took her hand in his left.
"Perhaps I have been practicing." She gave him a proud smile as they began moving easily along the terrace.
"You have been practicing," Sherlock said with a pleased nod of his head. "I think you will be sadly disappointed when you see how little room there is for dancing at Baker Street."
"We shall make room," she said while wrapping her hand a little further around his shoulder.
Sherlock responded in kind, holding her tighter and closer as they continued dancing. Their rhythm slowed as their feet kept moving in step, and the light began to fade even more. It was only around five in the evening, but given the time of year, the darkness would quickly begin to descend.
After another couple of minutes, Molly lifted her head and looked up at her husband, summoning a little boldness. "Sherlock?"
"Hmm?" he hummed, gazing down at her. He stopped dancing as he felt her feet come to a stop as well.
"I was thinking that I would...go upstairs now." She searched his eyes carefully with her own, willing herself not to look away shyly.
Sherlock spoke slowly as his eyes smiled down at her. "All right. If that is what you would like."
Molly nodded. "It is." She stood on tip toe suddenly and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly in an embrace.
Sherlock buried his face in her neck, feeling the little curls at her hairline tickle his nose. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation and she was further resolved to make her way to their chambers.
Molly finally separated from him and took a few steps away. "Would you give me a few minutes?" she asked with a slightly apologetic expression.
Sherlock smiled. "Take your time."
She smiled at him one more time before turning and leaving the terrace.
Sherlock watched her leave, the white muslin billowing out behind her as she turned the corner and disappeared. He smiled to himself as he turned and walked back to the edge of the terrace. He breathed the cool night air deep into his lungs as he stared out into the rapidly darkening sky. He could never have imagined that this would be his life.
And it was difficult to believe he had ever wanted anything different.
Molly had the help of a lady's maid in order to easily get out of her wedding gown, and into her nightdress. It was faster that way, despite the fact that she was a little too nervous to be dealing with any strangers at the moment. So as soon as the basic work was done, she politely dismissed the young woman and was left alone in the large bed chamber.
Molly sat down at the vanity and stared back at herself after she'd completely taken her hair down. She ran her fingers through, making it flow to one side...then to the other, not able to content herself with how it looked. She let out a slow breath, trying to relax a bit. I wanted to go upstairs, she told herself. Why am I picking this moment to suddenly become a nervous child?
She looked around the room, trying to distract herself with the loveliness. The bedroom was beautiful, and had a large fireplace which was blazing and crackling comfortingly. The big canopy bed with obviously expensive bedding was incredibly inviting, though she didn't want to be the first to disturb it.
They had been set up in the finest guest wing that Seaborne had to offer. Sherlock had originally said they could spend the night in his room, but his mother protested, saying that his room was not nearly fine enough. "Your bedroom is not much better kept than your laboratory!" she had said, and finally Sherlock had agreed.
Molly stood and walked over to the nearby full length mirror. She ran her hands over the long flowing fabric that graced her body. The nightdress she had put on was so incredibly beautiful. She imagined that it could have cost almost as much as her wedding gown. It was made of very fine soft cotton, with long loose arms, and delicate lace that accented the cuffs. The neckline was wide, barely perching on her shoulders, and dipped down in a slight V-shape. The same lovely lace on the cuffs was also sewn onto the neckline. It was much finer than she would have chosen for herself, but she was very grateful to have been given such a lavish gift.
Anthea had presented it to her the night before. It was from her, but also from Irene Adler. She had heard of Sherlock's unexpected impending marriage and been very pleased to send something along. The note from her had said...
Congratulations, Miss Hooper. You have done what most women thought to be impossible. My best wishes on your married life. I wanted to give both you and Mr. Holmes something special. I thought this would do nicely.
Be sure to make him beg.
-Miss I. Adler
Molly had blushed about three different shades of red after reading that note and pulling out the beautiful garment.
Molly finally left the mirror and strolled over to a small table, examining a crystal decanter and matching glasses that sat on it. She opened the top of the decanter and took a sniff...port. She made a slight grimace. It certainly wasn't her personal taste, but in a case like this, she was willing to take what she could get. She poured a couple of ounces into one of the glasses and swallowed it all down as quickly as she could.
She then proceeded to feel like an even bigger child due to the coughing fit that lasted for the next couple of minutes. It burned much more than she'd expected. But after that went away she did feel a bit of relaxing warmth spreading inside, almost as if she had moved closer to the fire. So she supposed it was worth the pain.
At that point she began looking around the room, trying to decide where she should be. She could sit back at the vanity or perhaps on the settee by the fire, or she could get in the bed...no she didn't want to be in the bed already when he came in. Too eager perhaps. Besides, he wouldn't get to see the nightdress. She frowned at herself. Was she supposed to make sure he sees the nightdress? Would he even care? According to Mary and Anthea, her new husband would likely care about little else than the fact that she was with him.
Molly shook her head, knowing that she was over thinking all of this. She had just plopped herself down to sit on the edge of the bed (after considering, but eventually deciding against another glass of port) when she heard the knock at the bedroom door.
"It's me," Sherlock called through the door.
"Come in," she answered, and the door opened...
Do you hate me right now? I would hate me too, so don't feel bad. It's a cruel place to end. Well guess what? I'm not done. :) Hope you enjoyed this fluffy lovey chapter, and there is more to come in the next. (You probably know what I don't do by now, based on my ratings, but I can promise I'll still do my best to make you smile.) It will likely be the last one, but yes, I know I've already said that more than once! Sorry that I'm crazy haha! Thanks again and you can chat me up about your thoughts on here or Tumblr. ;)
Thank you, Pillowslave, your editing is always appreciated, your the bestest friend and consulting writer! ;D