His Last Vow (Sherlock Holmes X OC)

SEVEN- Merry Christmas?

"Oh, dear God, it's only two o'clock. It's been Christmas Day for at least a week now. How can it only be two o'clock? I'm in agony," Mycroft whined.

It was Christmas time again. Sherlock had invited Anita, John, and Mary over to his parents place. Anita, Sherlock, and Mary weren't even sure that John would show, since he hadn't talked to Mary in months. Not since he found out everything. While the Watsons relationship was crumbling, Anita and Sherlock were doing amazing.

Once Sherlock was actually released from the hospital, the two of them had started to plan their wedding. It was small, neither of them really having a bunch of people to invite. Plus, it saved them money. Sherlock's parents would come, of course. Lestrade nearly fainted when he heard they were engaged, then proceeded to yell at Sherlock for nearly dying after he proposed. Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, etc. Though that last one was a bit questionable. The only place where the couple was having trouble was the Watsons. Of course, they wanted both of them to be there, but with the relationship issues they were having Sherlock and Anita weren't exactly sure what to do.

Anita and Sherlock bickered endlessly about when they actually wanted the wedding. Anita insisted on April, not too cold nor too hot. Sherlock wanted February, he insisted on a winter wedding. Eventually they compromised. March 10th. Close enough to February for Sherlock to be decently happy and just ten days before spring, which satisfied Anita's wants. They planned the whole wedding around the Watsons, leaving the best man and maid of honor spots open. Anita still had to ask Lestrade an extremely important question, but she was procrastinating it. They were waiting for the Watsons to make up, Sherlock and Anita wanted them by their sides. Even if Mary did shoot Sherlock, she was still one of Anita's few female friends. And she had wonderful taste in movies.

"Mikey, is this your laptop?" Mrs. Holmes asked Mycroft, pointing at the silver gray laptop at the end of the table. Part of the laptop was obscured by a chopping board, which had peeled potatoes and the peelings on it.

Anita was leaning against the counter nearby the sink, using a rag to dry her hands. She had just finished doing the dishes, having been watching them pile up and wanted to help out. Sherlock and his mother both had told her that she didn't need to, but Anita wanted to. Sherlock was sitting in an armchair near the table, reading the front page of The Guardian which had the headline: Lord Smallwood suicide and the strapline: Shamed peer takes own life and 63-year-old dies following letters scandal.

"On which depends the security of the free world, yes, and you've got potatoes on it," Mycroft sneered at his mother, both Sherlock and Anita glancing up at them.

"Well, you shouldn't leave it around if it's so important," Mrs. Holmes replied as she picked up the basket of crackers, then decided to put it down again.

"Why are we doing this? We never do this," Mycroft questioned as he gestured around the kitchen.

"We are here because Sherlock is home from the hospital and he's getting married soon and we are all very happy," Mrs. Holmes said, looking a little exasperated to her eldest son.

"Am I happy? I haven't checked," Mycroft replied in a sarcastic tone. Anita snorted and he turned his gaze to her, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Behave, Mike," said Mrs. Holmes as she picked up the basket. Once Mrs. Holmes turned her back, Anita stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes.

"You too, Anita. I saw that," she said as she shot a pointed look over at Anita, who raised her hands in surrender with a smile.

"Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end," Mycroft said to his mother. Then the man whose arm John sprained, Billy, Anita now knew, walked over and held a glass of punch out to Mrs. Holmes.