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MUCH LOVE

~Mistro

~.~.~.~.~

Is that… Bagpipes?

The awful sound of a cat dying rang out into my ears after what was becoming a peaceful sleep. My head was no longer on Sherlock's arm. My loose curls were being used a pillow as my body spread across the front seat. The Scottish instrument halted any chance of dreams that I had. The damn thing.

"Who even invented that?" I grumbled, placing an arm over my face to block out the sunlight. "It's ugly looking and it sounds horrible."

"Come, come, Renadale." Sherlock's voice muttered in my ear. I could feel his strong grip on my arms as he attempted to haul me up. I was not moving. Not when sleep was so close in my reach. "You're not a morning person are you?" My eyes peeked through a crack in my fingers. They must have flashed to red, because Sherlock took a hesitant step back at my gaze. "Aha! I'll take that as a no."

I could see John stumbling his way towards the church. He looked like the walking dead, and I knew that when I got out, I wouldn't look any better. Especially because I basically wasn't wearing any clothes. "I'll get up," I sighed as my body shifted into an upright position. "But you're not getting back your coat."

"I didn't expect to." Sherlock cracked a quick grin before offering me his hand. A sour frown was the only 'thank you' I could manage. Of course, I was excited for the wedding, but my mentality was not up to speed yet and the carriage seat as much more tempting than listening to a priest's words.

When I finally made my way onto solid ground, I got a better look at my helper. Sherlock looked like hell. And when I say hell, I am not even remotely trying to be funny. Dirt was plastered all over his face. His hair looked like someone had dropped a bomb upon it.

And, truth be told, John looked far worse. Mud covered his ear, his face was cut, his sleeve had somehow managed to rip itself off, and nothing about his uniform made him look like a veteran. I winced at the sight of the pair, the sound of bagpipes making a bizarre soundtrack for the duo.

"What happened to you?" My fingers reached out to touch John's missing sleeve, but I flapped a hand at the situation. "Never mind. I honestly don't care. Let's just get ourselves inside before anyone sees us."

Sherlock took both of our hands in his and we slowly, slowly made our way towards the front of the church. Guests would be arriving soon. We all had to make ourselves look presentable.

A small chuckle escaped my lips. Our trio never ceased to amaze me.

~.~.~.~.~.~

I made sure that Mary did not see the state of her fiancée. A bride had enough pressure as it was, and finding John to look like he did would only ruin her. The second we got into the church I went into the office rooms to find her. She was alone in her dressing room, and was quite ecstatic upon my arrival. Until she saw what I was wearing.

Nothing about her features twisted. She was simply blank-faced. Her eyes shifted from my feet to my eyes, and all I could do was answer her with a shrug. After a moment of hesitation, she let out a bewildered cry. "Renadale, how are you going to go to the wedding? Surely you cannot wear that! The last thing I want to do is ask you to wait outside like a dog!"

"You won't have to!" I tried to calm her. "Sherlock sent his brother to tell Mrs. Hudson to bring me a spare dress." Mary placed a shaky hand on her forehead before falling down in her vanity chair. "Everything will be perfect. I promise."

"John's alright? He didn't have a rough night?"

I froze in my tracks. My jaw was suspended into an oncoming lie. "Not a wink. Barely touched the alcohol."

"And his money?"

My voice was a squeak when I finally managed to answer. "Oh, he gambled well. He made much more than he took in!" And then lost it all because of Sherlock.

The happiness on Mary's face was enough to make me feel bad about my false story. Her face practically glowed in the span of two seconds. It had been awful of me, but with my ruffled state, I hadn't even taken note of her beauty. It was only when she began to pace the room with silent fears that I got a better view of her.

Lace danced up her neck in the elegant V-line dress. It's bustles were superb; enough to make Irene Adler take a run for her money. Everything was a perfect, pearly white and Mary looked like nothing less than a Princess.

"Mary-" I started.

"What if something goes wrong? My flower girls and dress carriers are getting ready in the next room. They're all so young! What if they become upset and won't do things properly?" Her hands were trembling as they pressed against her lips. Even she didn't want to hear the sound of her own voice, but there was no one there to stop her.

"Mary, you look beautiful." She stopped to lean against the window. Her hands found the frame firmly, but she kept her back towards me. "I'm not just saying that as your friend. I'm saying it because it's true. John Watson loves you with all his heart. I see the cloudiness in his eyes when tears form in yours. I've seen the way he dozes off when he thinks of you." Her head was slowly turning over her shoulder as I continued babbling on. The words could not stop coming. "Nothing makes him happier than the thought of you. And everything is finally falling into place. He would not have fought so hard for others lives, if he did not want you in his." My own voice was starting to annoy me, but the smile crossing her face was enough to make me forget my concerns. "Nothing today will go wrong. And if you think for a second that it has, look at it as a memory. One of your firsts as Missus Watson."

Mary flung herself away from the windowsill. In seconds, her arms were enfolded around me and her soft lips were planting a kiss against my cheek. "You have the words of a Queen, Renadale."

I laughed in surprise. "Well, I certainly haven't the money."

"Come," she smiled. "Hudson might not be here with your dress yet, but I can at least get that blue stuff off of your eyes."

I had forgotten about the berries. They were probably all smudged by that point. With my bright red lips and knotted hair, a clown was the only thing I looked similar to. Mary sat me down at her 'laboratory' and began to fix things up. Naturally, the bride wasn't supposed to be the one pampering, but I never saw my life as something normal. Friends helped friends when they needed it. And I was more than happy to call Mary my friend.

"So, how was Holmes?" Mary's happy tone was suddenly returned. She was the master of bridal mood-swings. "Did he forget like we all expected?"

Sherlock was a stupid man. There was no point in denying it. His head might have been an encyclopedia, but I did not believe his entire mind was in tact. I cared for him, but Mary was not worth lying to about a truth she knew so well. "Yes. He did. And I regret to say that he didn't make up for it. He dragged us all into a huge mess."

Her eyes scanned my revealing outfit. "I can see that."

"I'm sure John will tell you all about it. At least he can look forward to his wedding day with a fonder memory than his stag party." I shook my head as Mary began to run a comb through my nest of hair. "Men are always so animated when they go out with their friends."

"There is no such thing as men." She chuckled. "Only childish schoolboys." I watched quietly as her fingers worked miracles upon my head. "Sometimes you just can't tell them that." She had a valid point. I agreed with a guttural grunt and let my mind drift to the wedding's excitement. Mary's eyes were peering over my face and I hadn't even noticed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I said, taken by surprise. "You can ask me whatever you like. I just cannot promise an answer."

"Do you love him?"

Brilliant.

"I…" No part of me wanted to answer that question. Yet, the first word had jumped out of my mouth like a cat onto a mouse. Every bone in me started to hurt and I had to turn my red face away from her. Why was affection so painful? The mirror in front of us clearly defied all of my desire to hide my face. "That is an awfully large question."

"You don't have to answer." She was much more relaxed than I. I feared my trepidation was a clear enough answer.

But I had never said it to myself. Sherlock had certainly never said it.

I love you.

I tried to imagine myself saying that to him with a clear, relaxed expression. No daydreams seemed to fit. Where would I tell him? In his room at Baker street? In the middle of a battle? Perhaps in the rain like so many romantic tales? None of it seemed to fit into my imagination. We were so nontraditional, he and I. We did not know how we truly felt until the precise opportunity.

"I cannot say it yet," I confessed. "Though I wonder quite often."

Mary's lips could not stop from smiling. Her fingers mockingly poked at my cheeks with girlish affection. "I think you have a secret."

"What?" My face was as pale as her dress. "There are no secrets!"

"You really don't love him then?" Her eyes took a more serious note. She wanted to help me find an answer, not just for her curiosity, but to help me confess. If I could declare it to myself, then surely I could say it to him. But did I want to? "I could never imagine anyone with Sherlock Holmes." The phrase did not make me feel much better. "And then you showed up and everything changed."

"Did it?" My voice was feeble. I went from feeling like a huntress to the hunted. "I never noticed."

"Of course you didn't." Her comforting hand gently found my cheek. "A girl never notices when she's in love."

Maybe Mary was right. When I thought about his face, my heart would feel weak from fondness. All of those times he had aggressively and pathetically vowed his feelings towards me where the happiest in my life. He proved to me that my heart was nothing something to toss aside. It could not be dismantled and left for America. He made me feel like I was worth something. He made me feel like I was everything.

"John wasn't my first fiancée, you know."

All of my thoughts retracted and turned their attention towards the bride. "He's not?"

She shook her head sadly. I could read by her face that the worst had happened. He was not a bastard who broke her heart. "He died," she said quietly. "My father disappeared. My mother passed after I was born and then my husband left me." I took her hand softly in mine as she continued on. "Ever since I was little, I felt like I was cursed. It was so hard for me to even begin to admit my feelings to John. I regretted it for the longest time. The last thing I want you to do is be like me, though I hope you end up as happy as I am on this day."

More than ever, I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to thank her for her kind words. She deserved every drop of bliss on her wedding day. However, I did not have the chance to console.

"Renadale?" A familiar voice came from the room's threshold. Mrs. Hudson timed her entrance badly, and with a pink dress to make it even worse. "Your dress is here." She tried to shield her eyes from the bride, wanting to keep the secret hidden. "Come with me, dear. We'll have you fixed up in no time. I can't even imagine what Sherlock's done to you to get you into a costume like that."

"He's done a bit of good, actually." I smirked. "Apparently I'm quite the showgirl."

"Yes, well, today is not our show! It is the Watsons." Her hand anxiously waved me out from the room. "The guests will be here shortly. We must get you prepared."

Before I followed the landlady out, I turned one last time to Mary. "Just remember one thing. We should illuminate the blessings that we have now, and leave our curses to the darkness." Mary only gave me a soft smile. Seeing her slightly happy was enough for me. I then took my leave.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Many people attended the wedding. The church was a decent size, and everyone filled the rows accordingly. There were John's military friends, Mary's well-traveled relatives, and many other happy spectators. I felt honored to be amongst such people. I felt honored to be their friend.

Mary was making her way down the aisle, her feet as light as a feather. A thin veil shielded her face, but it was not difficult to see how stunning she looked. "She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" A man nearby whispered into my ear.

"She always does."

Before we knew it, she joined her fiancée at the alter. John, bruised but still dashing, was eagerly waiting for her arrival. When she took her spot, his nervous hands pulled back her veil. Not a word was spoken. The only sound could be of nearby violins hushing their strings. The love on their faces was unmistakable.

Until Mary noticed his and Sherlock's condition. Then it was a bit harder to keep the love flowing.

I nearly laughed in the quiet alter at the confused expression she wore. My white glove slowly reached towards my lips to keep myself from giggling. Even in the most serious of moments, Sherlock and John always found a way to make me threaten the peace with my laughter.

The ceremony continued on. Vows were made elegantly and passionately. The golden ring was placed on her smooth, white fingers. Their kiss was one for the Gods and every cheer from the audience was one of utter glee.

As I clapped my hands together, I could not help but a feel an enormous wave of emotions. Tears stung the bottom of my eyes. Their lives would change, but so would all of ours. Children would be brought into the world. They would grow and marry themselves off as well. All of my concerns about Watson were vanished. If he did not work with us anymore, then it needed to be that way. His position was clearly with Mary. They belonged together, not just as a couple, but in life.

I just wasn't sure Sherlock felt the same.

Everyone made their way out into the beautiful, nearly-spring day. The heavens were blessing the couple with the radiant sunshine and blooming of buds. No other season could be more perfect for a wedding. The flowers were beginning a new life, and so were the happy couple.

"Present arms!"

The soldiers lifted their swords valiantly in an arch for the Watsons to walk beneath. I stood at the very end of the line, craning my neck down the aisle to get a better view. Gladstone chased happily on their tails, but the crowd's applauding covered his excited barks.

I had never seen a more perfect wedding.

I had never seen a wedding to begin with, but that was beside the point.

Yet, where was Sherlock? I did not see him anywhere in the rows of people. Perhaps he had gotten stuck inside the church. My eyes scanned the whole gardens for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. John locked eyes with me, the question clearly written on his face. My shrug was answer enough. He did not let it bother him. With a large puff of his cheeks in a sigh, he took Mary's hand carefully in his as petals rained above their heads.

I, on the other hand, was not as pleased. My feet instantly took me away from the ceremony and towards the motorized carriage. Passing a few large hedges and into the carriage lot, I could spot Holmes a few feet in front of me. "Sherlock!" I called out to him. He turned to face me, a keen smile playing on his grimy face. "You look so awful."

"I was much more concerned with Watson looking respectable than my own appearance."

A smile trickled across my face. My hand gently pressed against his chest. "You did a fine job. The wedding was flawless. You even managed to remember he ring."

He was clearly distressed. I knew he was happy for his best friend, but it was his only best friend, and that made it all the more agonizing. There were no lectures coming from my lips. If he wanted to leave the ceremony, I knew it was not out of spite. "What's next now that Watson's going on his honeymoon? Are we travelling?"

"As much as I feel comfortable in my own London home…"

A heavy sigh fell from my lips. "We are travelling, aren't we?"

His whole body leaned towards me, his lips just barely brushing against my ear. "Remember how I told you to hold onto those clothes of mine?" My whole face was growing hot. I could only nod my head in fear of my voice cracking. That was all he said before he shot me another smirk and walked off towards the carriage.

I watched in silence as his fingers began cranking at the engine. Though I was fascinated with inventions, I did not care to know how the thing worked. It was a monster in my eyes. A smoke-filled, vulgar monster.

"Quite the strange invention, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry?" I turned to place the voice behind me, but the face still did not match up in my head. The young man was no one of my acquaintance, and I began to feel hot under the collar. Why was he talking to me?

"Your friend sure comes up with some odd ideas."

I could not stop staring at his face. He was unshaven, but neatly so.

Not poor enough that he can't afford a barber, but not arrogant enough to have a clean face. A man of duty. But to whom?

His hat was old, but nicely cut and perfectly suited to his head.

It's too nice to be something that was passed down. He clearly cares about making his own way in the world. A man of duty? A soldier, perhaps.

His jacket was brand new. There was not a speck of dust on the tie.

He is not a member of the wedding. He's here for other reasons. Business reasons.

"Are you sizing me up?" He cracked an amused grin as I continued to stare at him. Somehow, he did not intimidate me, though his presence was making me sweat. I did not like talking to strangers, and he was certainly strange. "You have an odd style of living, Miss Adkins."

"How do you know who I am?"

"The Professor told me." I was not quite expecting him to be so blunt with his response. My body leaned back a bit in surprise, which only made him grin wider. "He says you're quite the fan of his."

"I was," I spat. "Until I realized what he was up to."

"That's a shame. He doesn't have very many pretty fans. Just old men who like to sit around and smoke cigars." His head jerked over towards Sherlock, who was now beginning to eye us curiously. "And Sherlock Holmes. It's been clear that Sherlock Holmes has a very large interest in James Moriarty."

"Then why are you speaking to me?" My eyes narrowed threateningly. I was tired of being pinned against invisible (and real) walls to only be threatened for something that was not my concern. "Go and speak to my boss. I'm sure he'll have better answers than I do."

"Of course, love." The man began to pass me, but paused at my side. "Don't think that you're clear of this mess, though. He knows who you are now. There's no stopping him when he decides he wants someone erased."

He then left me on my own. Every inch of me was cold beneath the pink dress, despite the warm day. Had I just received a death threat? By the sound of his words, my life was at stake. Nothing in my mind could fathom how this had come to be. Was Moriarty really that vicious? Like the bearded man had said, I used to be his fan. Now I was his enemy.

'No loose ends' was becoming far more serious than I had anticipated.

My feet were about to run towards Sherlock, to tell him what happened, but when I turned he was already speaking to the man. Looks of concern crossed my partner's face, and his eyes would occasionally shift towards mine. Did he know? Did he know that I was suddenly in danger as well? I could see in his eyes that he could protect me. Even though the man had threatened my life, Sherlock would be there to save me.

I decided to pay for a separate cab to take me home. Sherlock and I would talk later. For now, I just wanted to be at home. I needed some private time to think, though with a death threat on my heels, being alone could be potentially dangerous. Sherlock had always saved me before, however. If I was in true danger, he would be at my side in an instant.

No.

I had to start fighting. He hadn't taught me without a reason. My shrieks had to be done with. I didn't have a say in the matter, but suddenly all of my innocence was thrust into the middle of the chess game.

And my Queen was wide open.

~.~.~.~.~.~

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