Sophia Holmes and the Sign of Three (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Twelve - The Sign of Three Part IV

I let myself into John and Mary's house and immediately cringe at the sound of music and gossiping coming from inside. The sooner this wedding is over and done with, the better. I don't think I can stand being around other women much longer. Mary is quite enough for me. 

"Sophie, brilliant you're here," Mary says as she appears in the doorway to the living room, her makeup done and her hair in curlers. "Get changed quickly then come back downstairs - Abby's just finishing up Georgia's makeup and then it's you."

I smile reassuringly at her, reading the quiet panic in her voice and eyes and the small beads of sweat on her forehead. With just an hour before her vows, and the threat of Magnussen overhanging, it's understandable for her to be feeling a little nervous, so I do what I can to ease her anxiety and slip upstairs with my dress to change.

As I fiddle with the zip on the back to pull it up, I hear someone run upstairs and throw open the bathroom door.

"Mary?" I say, going out to investigate. I find her crouched down in front of the toilet, her head angled over the bowl as she hurls up into it. I kneel down beside her, then awkwardly start to rub circles into her back. After a minute, she sits back up and wipes her mouth. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sighs. "Just a little nervous." She sounds uncertain.

I suddenly recall the bathroom door not being fully closed, as if it was kept ajar for ease in case she needed to get in quickly. "How many times has this happened?"

"Third time this morning," she says, getting to her feet. "Turn around, I'll do your back up."

I move my hair out of the way and hold still as she slides the zip up to the top. "Are you sure it's nerves?" I ask.

"What else could it be?" she replies, her voice stony.

"Have you and John ... you know?"

"No!" Mary replies, too quickly. "Well yes, but ... Look, it's none of your business, just head downstairs and don't tell anyone."

I nod, deciding to drop it, and go down to where Abby gestures me onto a stool.

I sit in virtual hell for ten minutes as she paints my face, before fixing my hair into a messy low bun on the side of my head. As I mutter my thanks to the beautician, our car pulls up and Mary bustles us outside.