A/N: This is gonna be a little long, but please bear with me! It's the end of the movie-err, story!
First, a reminder: the 2013 SAMFAs (Sherlock and Molly Fic Award) have officially started! If you want to vote for some fics, please visit the sherlolly website. Replace the DOTs with periods, and visit: wwwDOTsherlollyDOTcom/samfas. Please remember to put the name of the fic, the author, and the link for each entry or your vote will be disqualified.
Although this fic is not eligible for this year, I do have some others that are. Here on FF, those fics are:
Intervention
More Than Words
The Mirror Shows Two Faces
Will the Price Be No Object
Under Construction
I also have an angst dark fic on Archive of Our Own, called "Through a Fairytale, Darkly" that is eligible. If you want to check it out, go to www DOT ao3 DOT org, and type in "nocturnias" to find it, or enter this URL: http DOT SLASH SLASH archiveofourown DOT org SLASH works SLASH 449017 SLASH chapter SLASH 769175
This fic has been quite a ride. I started it over a year ago, and originally it was going to be fairly short compared to the novel it became! But it kept writing itself and I ran with it. As Moriarty said: "I'm the storyteller," so I was just obeying the plot bunny. I am both sad and happy that it has come to an end! And if you would, for me: please listen to the song in this chapter!
I haven't been the best about replying to reviews, but please know that I have read each and every one. It makes me so happy that so many people have loved this story! 395 faves, and 616 follows for something I started posting in January of 2012.
I left clues all through this story, mostly in the things that Moriarty said and did, with a sprinkling of Sherlock and Mycroft. Now that the story is finished, it you have any "but what about?" things you'd like explained, drop me a line and I'll explain. Many of you figured some things out, and I loved it. I figure that most people kind of go "la-la-la" so as not to ruin an ending for themselves, and if that was you, that was good, too!
This chapter is especially dedicated to a few folks, who have given me so much love and support this year: BritMel (my Watson, I will love you always), Cumberseedybatch, Wicked Wanton, Whytejigsaw, MorbidMegz, Strawberrypatty, Petra Todd, Lono, Elixir BB, TheemptyHolmes, Sincerelydayyy, AlicePenseive, MizJoley, Conchepcion, Goldenvine, Bassanimation, Kendrapendragon, and JandJsalmon.
This STORY, in all its… something, is dedicated to YOU! Each and every one of you that has read it, favorited it, followed it, reviewed it, whatever you did. You have no idea of how happy it has made me that this fic is so loved and I thank each of you so MUCH!
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for… LAST CHAPTER!
S&MS&MS&MS&MS&M
Four months later…
Irene smirked as Sherlock approached her. "Well, Mister Holmes. Tomorrow's your big day. Are you nervous?"
He frowned. "No. Why would I be?"
"Getting married? Tying yourself to one person for all eternity? It's very brave of you," Irene said, affecting a shudder. She looked up at him with sharp eyes. "You once told me you should never let your heart rule your head. What happened?"
Sherlock had thought about that more than once over the past 18 months or so. And he could only come up with one response. "It isn't ruling my head. It's more of a coexistence."
Irene smirked. "You always did want companionship. It was obvious. You're just very selective about it. For the best, mind you. It's always been my philosophy too."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "And are you still happy with your life?"
Irene looked pensive. "It's funny. I never thought about it much, until I saw you and Molly together. Even with you I knew it couldn't be anything permanent, and that was fine. But the way you look at her… I've never had anyone look at me quite that way. With desire, yes. Or admiration in your case. But not with love."
"Surely you don't want that,' Sherlock said with mock amazement. Irene shrugged.
"Life is full of surprises, Mister Holmes." She stepped closer and raised her hands, splaying her fingers out on Sherlock's chest. "Sure you don't want a last hurrah as a free man? No charge for friends."
Sherlock gently but firmly lifted her hands off his chest. He didn't speak, just stood looking down at her with an unreadable expression.
Irene blinked. "My God. You really do love her."
He inclined his head slightly. She removed her hands from his grip and gave him an amused smile. "Well. Sorry I can't stay for the wedding: there's a whole new world waiting for me in Australia. But I wish you and Molly all the best."
Sherlock raised her right hand to his lips and kissed it. "Goodbye, Woman."
Irene leaned in close and pressed her lips to his cheek. "Goodbye, Mister Holmes," she whispered.
He watched her walk away, then went inside and climbed the stairs of 221 Baker Street. Molly was sitting in the kitchen at the table, sipping tea and looking over one of her endless lists. She smiled when he moved beside her and gently pulled her to her feet, enveloping her in a warm embrace.
"Hi," she said softly, squeezing him in a hug. She pulled back and looked at him. "Everything ok?"
She didn't ask for details. She wasn't jealous. She trusted him.
He wasn't convinced he deserved her. But he wanted to.
Sherlock leaned down and kissed her. "Yes," he murmured against her mouth. "Everything is ok."
Mycroft came to see him the next morning, looking impeccable in his suit. Sherlock was not certain who was the more surprised, him or Mycroft, when he asked him to be a groomsman. But his brother had accepted.
Now he stood before Sherlock and studied him. "It's not too late to change your mind, brother," Mycroft told him.
Sherlock stared at him. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Marriage is a big step, Sherlock. Are you certain you are ready for it?"
"I wouldn't have asked Molly to marry me if I wasn't."
Mycroft inclined his head. "Of course." He reached up to fuss with Sherlock's tie while Sherlock made a sound of irritation. "I was… uncertain about this union. But your devotion to Doctor Hooper is genuine, as is hers to you. I wish you both the best."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You were testing Molly. The day you went to her and tried to get her to leave me. You wanted to know how far she was willing to go."
"Of course," Mycroft replied. "You are a dangerous man to be with, Sherlock. I had to be sure she would stand by you no matter what."
"And you weren't concerned about me standing by her?" Sherlock asked.
Mycroft smiled. "I really must be going. I'm in a wedding, you see."
"Mycroft…" Sherlock began as his brother turned and started walking.
Mycroft stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "I will always be your brother, Sherlock. "
Sherlock nodded. He knew precisely what that meant. He watched with a faint smile as Mycroft left.
Mrs. Hudson knocked softly on the door. "Yoo-hoo! Sherlock!"
"For goodness sake, Missus Hudson, come in!" Sherlock said in mild exasperation. "I should just hang a sign on the door."
Mrs. Hudson entered, looking elegant in a dusky rose dress and matching hat. She walked over to Sherlock and hugged him tight. "Oh, Sherlock! My Sherlock, all grown up and getting married!"
"I was already a grown-up, Missus Hudson," Sherlock reminded her, and she sniffed.
"Of course you were dear. But not like now! You're getting married! Now you treat Molly properly, you hear me? Don't make me have to come upstairs and give you a good smack with the paper!"
"I will do my best to avoid that at all costs," Sherlock said, waiting patiently for her to release him. She sobbed and held him tighter. Sherlock sighed and put his arms around her shoulders. "Please, Missus Hudson. You'll soak my suit and make my soon-to-be-wife rather unhappy."
"Sorry," she sniffed. Sherlock offered her his handkerchief from his breast pocket, and she took it, blowing her nose at a volume that would have impressed an elephant. She handed it back to him and patted him on the arm. "I'd better go see how Molly is. Oh, I'm so happy!"
He kissed her on the cheek and smiled. "Thank you, dear Missus H."
As she hurriedly left the room, Sherlock looked down at his handkerchief and sighed. Then he sent John a text.
Need Handkerchief when you return. –SH
Why? –John W
Mrs. Hudson. –SH
Ah. On my way. –John W
Sherlock knew who was at the door from the sharp, brisk knock. "Come in, Lestrade," he called out. "Everyone else has," he added under his breath.
Lestrade entered, wearing a dark gray suit with a small pink rose in the buttonhole. He stared at Sherlock in a mixture of admiration and surprise. "You look pretty good all cleaned up, mate."
"Thank you."
Lestrade shuffled his feet a bit and did not quite meet Sherlock's eyes.
"Is there something you want to tell me, Lestrade?" Sherlock prompted. "As you might have noticed, I'm getting married shortly and I believe Molly's exact words were: 'I have waited long enough for this.' So out with it, man." He smiled to take the edge off his words.
"Yeah, about that," Lestrade said. He cleared his throat. "There's something I need to tell you before you and Molly get married. Something I need to, well, come clean about."
Sherlock studied him. "Would that be the fact that while I was gone, you kissed Molly one night while intoxicated after an evening at a pub?"
Lestrade blinked. "Yeah, that."
"Ah. As you now realize, I already knew that, Lestrade. Though I do appreciate you 'coming clean,' it was not necessary. Molly and I were not together at that time; therefore, you did nothing wrong. Apart from waiting until my wedding day to tell me, perhaps."
"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I just… didn't feel right about it, you know? And I should have told you sooner. It was shit of me not to. I didn't think you'd be upset much, so… well, anyway," Lestrade said, "I'm really happy for you two. I mean it."
Sherlock inclined his head. There was one question he didn't have an answer to, and he decided now was as good a time as any. "Why did you never pursue Molly?" He asked. "I know you found her attractive. I was out of the picture. Yet you made no attempt to court her and your one kiss occurred while you were very drunk. Why?"
Lestrade looked at him. "Because it was quite obvious that she was still in love with you. And it felt like… hell, I don't know. Like I would've been disrespecting you. Your memory. And I wasn't going to do that. Because I've always considered you a friend."
Sherlock coughed slightly and looked down. "I see."
An awkward silence ensued. Lestrade cleared his throat. "Right. Well I'd better be getting back out there. For some reason you wanted me to be a groomsman, you know."
Just before Lestrade touched the doorknob, Sherlock spoke. "Greg."
Lestrade turned, shocked. Sherlock had never used his first name before.
Sherlock met his gaze. "The feeling is.. somewhat mutual."
Lestrade grinned. "Thanks."
John Watson studied his best friend while he fussed over Sherlock's suit, making sure the handkerchief was centered and pressed properly. Sherlock sighed. "It is a handkerchief, John, not an army bed sheet."
"All right," John groused, quickly finishing. "Just want you to look your best for your wedding day. No need to get tetchy."
"I'm not tetchy!"
"And that just proved my point," John countered, smoothing Sherlock's lapels down with a smile. He looked up at his friend. "All right?"
"I'm fine. Why does everyone seem to think I wouldn't be?" Sherlock asked, puzzled.
"Well you are-"
"-Getting married, yes, I'm well aware of that, thank you," Sherlock finished wryly.
"I never thought this would happen," John said. "I mean, I knew you had changed when you came back. But I never thought it could lead to this. You, in love. Getting married."
"I wouldn't have thought it either," Sherlock admitted. "But here we are."
"You know," John said after a moment's pause, "I really am happy for you and Molly. God, I am. But I can't help but think that-"
"-That none of this would have happened if it wasn't for Moriarty's mad plan," Sherlock said softly.
John nodded. "Yeah. How do you feel about that, Sherlock? The fact that he was right, that you were capable of falling in love? If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be here getting ready to get married. Even though he's dead, it's like he still won in a way. Does that make you, I dunno, angry?"
Sherlock was silent for a moment.
"It did at first," he said when he finally spoke. "I resented it. I didn't want to date, or be in a relationship, even if it was with Molly, who logically was the best choice were I inclined to enter into such a thing. I told him it was impossible for me to fall in love. But as time passed, what I realized I was really angry about was that he knew something about me that I did not. He saw the truth that I had refused to see. I was capable of being in love. It wasn't that love disgusted me. It terrified me.
"All my life, people have thought I was incapable of feelings. That I was some sort of freak, a heartless man who only cared about himself, it even that. But you saw the truth. I wasn't good at expressing it, and barely could let myself show it. But it wasn't that I was incapable of feeling anything. It was that I was capable of feeling too much."
John nodded. "I always figured that's why you shut it away. I knew for sure after you jumped. You were afraid that feelings would cloud your mind, make you lose what makes you who you are. But it didn't, Sherlock."
"No. It has not. But it took Moriarty for me to be able to know it. And you are right. He did still win, in a way. He proved me wrong. It wasn't the first time. But it is the last."
He looked at his best friend. "So yes, it did anger me. But it gave me Molly. And I love her. And I will never be angry about that. And now he's dead and I am very much alive. In that sense, I won."
John tilted his head. "So, it's a draw, then?"
Sherlock chuckled. "If you like. Although as I am the one who is living, I think I'm the real winner."
"No argument here," John told him.
Sherlock surprised John by giving him a brief but strong hug. "Thank you, John," Sherlock said softly. "For everything."
John grinned. "You're welcome. Now. As best man of this wedding, I say let's go get you married."
"If we must," Sherlock sighed.
"If we must? Hang on a bloody minute," John began, then stopped and scowled. "You bastard."
Sherlock grinned. "Really, if I'd known how much fun it was to use a sense of humor around people, I'd have done it years ago."
The ceremony had gone beautifully. Molly's eyes had darted around nervously a bit when the priest asked if anyone had an objection, but no one did. And before she knew it, she had become Molly Hooper Holmes. And the ache that had sat for so long in her heart stretched its tiny final vestiges and disappeared. And good bloody riddance, she thought.
Now she was sitting with her husband (Her husband! Sherlock was her husband! God, she hoped she was always so ecstatic about that fact) and their friends and family and laughing about something that had happened to John and Mary on their honeymoon.
Molly had assumed Sherlock would be like a lot of men and leave all of the wedding details up to her. An although he had let her make most of the decisions, he'd surprised her about one thing. He'd told her that while he didn't really care about colors and accents and flowers and cake icing, he wanted to be in charge of the music. Molly had been surprised, but agreed.
She figured Sherlock would hire an orchestra and they'd spend their wedding reception listening to classical music. But she'd been wrong. Although he had hired an orchestra for the wedding itself, for the reception he'd gotten a DJ to go with it.
The announcement came that is was time for them to have their first dance. Sherlock rose and held out his hand to Molly. "Mrs. Holmes?" He asked with a smile.
She smiled back. She hadn't thought he'd want to have a formal wedding at all, and the fact that he'd agreed had told her just how much he loved her. Granted, it was a small service at one of the Holmes estates, but it was the wedding she'd always wanted. And he'd done that for her, this brilliant, brooding, difficult man that she would love for the rest of her life. She put her hand in his and let him help her to her feet. "My pleasure," Mr. Holmes," she replied.
They moved out into the dancing area to murmurs of admiration and well-wishing. Molly looked up at him. "So what did you choose?" she asked.
He smiled enigmatically. "You're about to find out."
He nodded, and the DJ pressed a button. As the song came on, Molly gasped. Tears began to fill her eyes. "Oh, Sherlock," she said softly.
He leaned down and kissed her, holding her close. Molly didn't care that she was crying (all her makeup was waterproof), she was happier than she'd ever been in her life.
So Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes began to dance to the song that Sherlock had chosen: the song that perfectly said everything he ever wanted to say to Molly, and she to him.
Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don't be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
'cause I've seen the dark side too
When the night falls on you
You don't know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
So if you're mad, get mad
Don't hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
Hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too
Well I'm a lot like you
When you're standing at the crossroads
And don't know which path to choose
Let me come along
'cause even if you're wrong
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you
And when...
When the night falls on you, baby
You're feeling all alone
You won't be on your own
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you
Won't let nobody hurt you
I'll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I'll never desert you
I'll stand by you
THE END
"I'll Stand by You," the Pretenders, copyright 1994 Sire/Warner Bros. WEA Records