Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

AN: Updates are gonna be slow until I finish the story completely.

Chapter 7:

Irene remembered the Case of the Bloody Guardsman well.

'Sherlock, calm down.' Mary frowned at Sherlock, after his long list of what to do. 'The orchestra isn't even supposed to rehearse for a week now. Calm down.'

'Calm? I am calm. I am extremely calm.' But Irene could see the signs that he was panicking on the inside, his slightly stiff rigid posture, and the slight crease on his forehead. However, before she could act, Mary did.

'Relax. Let's get back to the Reception, c'mon. John's cousin, top table?' She handed Sherlock the invitation. Irene shook her head, and both spoke simultaneously.

'Hates you.'

Sherlock went further. 'Can't even stand to think about you.'

Mary looked slightly stunned. 'Seriously?'

'Second class post, cheap card.' He took one sniff of it and then returned it to her. 'Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp. Three attempts at licking. She's obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.'

Mary smiled. 'Aw, let's stick her at the bogs.'

Sherlock sat down at the desk. 'Oh yes.'

'Lovely idea.' Irene smiled at Mary, who grinned back. Mary turned to Sherlock.

'Who else hates me?' Sherlock handed her a card. 'Oh great, thanks.'

John was reading out names of cases as he sat down, not doing much. In fact, Irene could almost be convinced that it was Sherlock and Mary getting married, both of them sitting together while going through the invitations and planning everything.

Both seemed like a likely pair, sharp and smart, able to handle one another.

'Priceless painting nicked. Sounds interesting.'

'Done.'

'Table 4.'

'My husband is three people.'

'Table 5.'

Sherlock frowned. 'Major James Sholto. Who he?'

'Oh, John's old commanding officer. I don't think he's coming.'

'He'll be there.'

'Will he?' Irene purred, carrying Nero out of the bedroom and handing him over to Sherlock, who looked mildly annoyed at this as he stood up while Irene took his seat.

'Well,' Mary said, agreeing. 'He needs to RSVP then.'

'He'll be there.' John said again, sounding convinced. 'My husband is three people?' He repeated.

Irene answered. 'Don't worry darling, I'll take this one. Triplets, one in half a million births.'

Sherlock, using his foot, pulled out a tray. Nero cooed over them. 'Now. Serviettes. Swan or Sydney Opera House?'

Mary looked stunned and delighted at the same time. 'Where did you learn to do that?'

Irene smiled. 'I taught him.'

'Ah.' Mary nodded. Irene watched as Mary pulled John into the kitchen and closed the door. She turned to Sherlock.

'Are you alright, darling?'

'Fine.' The response, too quick an answer, made her frown slightly.

'Nervous?'

'No.'

'Yes you are.'

'No I'm not.'

'William Sherlock Scott Holmes!' Irene snapped. Sherlock turned to her, scowling at his full name. Irene's expression softened briefly. She walked over to him. 'Don't worry about it, darling. I'm sure it'll be alright.'

At that moment, both John and Mary came out, and Mary nodded at Irene, who smirked.

Mary dragged Irene into the kitchen. 'You think they'll buy it?'

Irene nodded. 'Sherlock's so nervous right now that he'll agree with everything.'

Within minutes, both were running out, with Mary and Irene smiling at each of them. They then exited, and Mary and Irene continued to sort through the invitations.

'Is Sherlock...you know?' Mary asked Irene, who sighed as she replied.

'Yes. You would think that it's him that's getting married.'

'Speaking about marriage...' Mary suddenly looked sly. 'When are you and Sherlock going to get married?'

Irene sighed. 'We don't talk about it. In all, we're just partners. We have Nero, we live together, we work well together, and we're happy.' Mary laughed. 'We never thought of marrying. Besides, nearly one third of all marriages end in divorce or cheating.'

Mary laughed again. 'Come on. I think it would be fun!'

Irene frowned. 'An ex-dominatrix marrying the world's only Consulting Detective with a child that's a genius?' She asked sarcastically, something she surely got from Sherlock. 'Sure that that's going to be on the headlines for a long time, and that's something that's probably best not mentioned to anybody.'

Mary hummed in agreement, before pulling out another invitation. 'What about this one? John's aunt?'

About an hour passed unsuccessfully, and the women went out to get coffee, inviting Molly, though she was apparently on a date with Tom. They brought along Nero, who enjoyed himself immensely.

When they returned home, it was to a relaxing John and a furious Sherlock, who was scowling and practically spitting at John about his scarf.

'It saved someone's life!'

'And what about me?!' Sherlock fumed, ignoring John. Both seemed to be having a conversation that was more than one-sided. 'It's ruined!'

'And the Captain was very pleased to have Bainbridge rescued-'

'The cost! Where do you think I can get these bloodstains out?!'

'And he let us go without pressing any charges, that's a good thing, isn't it?'

'You think I can just go up to mummy and ask her to wash my bloodied scarf?!'

'What happened?' Irene's breezy tone cut in, and Mary sent her a small smile. She walked over to where Sherlock was now standing – next to his stand – and kissed him, before turning around.

Sherlock was the first to speak. 'John ruined my scarf.' He sounded like a 5-year-old declaring that his friend had broken his toy.

'It was to save a life!' John protested.

'You ruined it!' Sherlock seethed at John, all menace returning.

'It's just a scarf!'

'Shut up!' Sherlock snapped, still clutching on to the scarf, which was caked in drying blood. With that, he turned and stormed to his room, effectively ending the conversation.