No Shit, Sherlock

Mrs. Holmes

Today is the day I marry Sherlock Holmes.

After several months of planning and crying, the wedding is finally here.

My mother and Enola are fixing my hair and dress. I can see the tears in their eyes, but don't point it out. Because I know they'll make fun of me for the tears in my eyes.

"I can't believe you're getting married," my mother says.

I smile, "I can't believe it either."

My fingers graze the necklace around my neck. It's the one Sherlock had gotten me all those months ago.

"Oh my goodness, I forgot your veil," my mother says.

She leaves Enola and I to go get it. When the door closes, Enola grabs my hands, "We can leave now. We can run away and never come back."

"I want to get married," I say softly.

She searches my eyes for any hint of regret or hesitance but sighs. "I know, but if you ever get mad at Sherlock, just know that I will always be prepared to run away with you. Even if it's just for a little while."

A knock on the door interrupts us. Enola cracks the door open and sighs as the door is pushed open. Tewkesbury and Timothée walk in, looking charming in their suits.

"Whoa," says Timothée.

Tewkesbury smiles, "I've never seen you so dressed up before."

"Don't get used to it," I say.

"You look amazing," Timothée says.

Tewkesbury nods in agreement, and Timothée points at my hair with a mischievous grin.

"Is that a wig?"

I swat Timmy's hand away from my hair, "No, it's my real hair."

My mother walks in, rolling her eyes at their loud laughter. She puts the veil on me and steps aside to let me look in the mirror. My heart stops at the sight of myself.

Here I stand in a wedding dress, marrying a man willingly. Had someone told me three years ago that this would happen, I'd laugh in their face. But, as I stare at my reflection, reality slowly begins to sink in.

"I'm getting married."

Tewkesbury smiles, "Well, I would hope so. We've spent a lot of time planning today."

Enola elbows him, although she's smiling as well. Music begins to play, and my mom grabs my hand, "It's time."

My three friends leave the room, going to take their places on my side of the altar. Tewkesbury and Timothée had agreed to be my bridesmen, and Enola is my maid of honor.

"It's too late for cold feet (Y/n)."

I shake my head, "I'm not getting cold feet."

"Then let's get you to that handsome man of yours," my mother says.

I take a deep breath and let her lead me out of the room. We stop at the doors that lead to the altar. The two men standing at them watch me curiously, like they're waiting for me to turn around and run away.

I grasp my mom's hand tighter, "These will be my last moments as (Y/n) (L/n)."

"(Y/n) Holmes sounds better anyway," she says, smiling.

The two men open the doors, and I'm frozen in place as everyone in the room ahead of us turns to face me. My eyes scan the room nervously until they meet familiar blue eyes. My nerves melt away instantly as I keep my eyes on Sherlock.