The next morning, I woke up to Sherlock bustling around in the kitchen. When I walked out of the room, he looked up to me from his microscope.
"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?" He asked, moving the dials around on his machine.
"Yes, quite well." I said, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his neck. "What are you doing?" I asked, nuzzling my head against his shoulder.
"Hm, well, I'm waiting for you to get dressed. Unless you want to go to the wedding planner wearing one of my t-shirts." He said, giving my arm a squeeze.
"I completely forgot! Sorry!" I said, as I quickly ran back to the room to get dressed. I slipped on a tight blue dress, and put my hair into a loose braid. When I came out, Sherlock was already at the door with my coat. He helped me put it on, and we walked out of his apartment.
"What color will the bridesmaids be wearing?" The wedding planner asked, staring me down.
"Um, well… purple?" I said, trying to think about it.
"Ok, so grooms will have a purple flower then?" She asked, turning to Sherlock. He looked at me before responding.
"Erm, yes." He said slowly.
"And the venue?"
"Craigmiller Castle. Scotland." I blurted out. The wedding planner glanced at Sherlock and then me.
"You do realize that it will be a lot to rent that castle out." She said drowsily.
"Of course. We can pick something else. I just really love that castle." I said, sadly picking up a book of venues. Sherlock took the book out of my hands.
"No. We'll have it at Craigmiller." He said suddenly.
"But Sherlock-"
"No, Craigmiller. I have plenty of money to cover it." He said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
The wedding planner rolled her eyes, but scribbled it down anyway.
"Ok. Well, that's all for now. You'll be back in about a month to start the down payments on everything. We'll give you a planning kit to help you get started." She said, handing us a bag of folders and paperwork. "Have a nice day, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes."
We walked out of the office, and headed out for a bite to eat. We decided on the café next to 221B. Sherlock wanted to see John anyway. We sat down at a table, and ordered.
"Emily, I'm going to run upstairs really quick. I'll see if John is around for lunch." He said, standing up. "I'll be right back."
I nodded, and he left the café. My food arrived shortly after. While I ate, noticed a small piece of paper tucked underneath the plate. I slowly pulled it out, and unfolded it.
I felt my heart rate pound as I recognized the slip of paper. It was blank. I quickly took the lemon out of my water, and began squeezing it on the paper. A date appeared on the back… it was the date of my wedding. I held back my panic, and calmly scanned the café, but I didn't see anyone staring at me, or anyone that could be a suspect. I crunched it up in my hand, and patiently waited for Sherlock to come back.
"Sorry it took so long. Apparently John already had plans with his- Emily? What's wrong?" He asked, seeing the expression on my face.
"Sherlock… did you kill that Butler?" I asked in a whisper.
"Well, yes of course. I shot him twice in the head. He couldn't have survived that." He said grabbing my clenched hand. He took the paper from me, and his face turned white. "But… but that's impossible! He was dead! I made sure…"
"Sherlock, it's ok. Maybe it's a prank. Let's just go." I said, standing up. Sherlock stood up too, but he took off towards the kitchen. I saw him grab the waiter that served us. He slammed him against the wall, and put the paper up to his face.
"Who gave you this!" He yelled into his face. The waiter shook his head.
"I don't know! I was told to give it to the woman." He said, looking at me.
"Who told you!" Sherlock said again, pressing into the mans throat. The man struggled for words, but he finally managed.
"Adler." He said choking. "Irene Adler." Sherlock let go of the man and rushed me out of the café.
He wouldn't answer any of my questions on the way home. He was dead silent. When we entered the house, he took me to the bedroom, and locked every door on the way in. He sat me on the bed, and paced in front of the bedroom door.
"Sherlock, explain. What is going on?" I said, tugging on his shirt.
"Emily, the butler was the least of our worries. I believe we've just entered a game. A horrible, horrible game."