The Good, The Bad and The Woman

The Wedding

2. The Wedding

Two months earlier:

The bells rang loud and clear outside the car as Sherlock and Irene gazed up at the sweet, beautiful church. The chiming call was merry and beckoned people to step inside and behold the joyous occasion on this beautiful summer's day. People dressed in bright colored dresses and ironed blazers passed the car heading for the building in question, unaware of the key figures seated inside the vehicle. Someone shouted something about the upcoming wedding, and laughter erupted from a small group of friends on the fresh lawn outside the main entrance. Close to the impressive building of medieval origin stood a sign that read 'St Alfege Church'.

The brunette ran a hand over her hair to assure herself it still lay perfectly in the elaborate do as she smiled, "Who knew we'd be here one day?"

The detective exhaled in amusement and admitted something he rarely had before, "Certainly not I."

Irene turned to the handsome man and pinched his chin with an endearing grin on her red-painted lips. She proceeded to smooth a wrinkle on the front of his dress jacket and said, "Well, I had a hunch."

Sherlock raised a thick eyebrow. "You would have, wouldn't you?"

"Are you ready?" the woman asked and reached for the door.

"Are you?"

Her ivory hand froze on the handle and she sank back against the seat. "I… don't know."

"I figured as much."

Irene lowered her gaze and the catching smile slowly faded. "I think I'm nervous, actually. I wasn't expecting that."

"It will pass," Sherlock reassured and adjusted his bow-tie.

"You're right, of course," the brunette's happiness slowly returned like a sun climbing on the eastern horizon. "So… do you want to head inside?"

The man smiled crookedly and leaned in close. "I do."

--

The church was almost filled to the brim with happy, excited people and the sound of their easy chatting rose to a crescendo in the beautiful nave of the building. A few kids ran between the pews up and down the aisle and their laughter chased the adults' affectionate words until the noises faded somewhere in the low shadows by the stone walls.

Seated in the very front row, John gazed about at the crowd of friends and family. There were several new faces, but that was to be expected for a wedding such as this.

The blond man smiled to himself and turned back to his wife. The woman was dressed in a beautiful lilac dress and fair curls framed her face perfectly. In the lady's arm sat a restless baby girl safe and sound. With soft, pale curls atop her head and intrigued blue eyes, the girl had snatched her father's heart the day she had been born almost six months ago. Even now, he couldn't help but reach out and caress her soft baby cheek and the girl grabbed hold of his finger tight with a gurgling sound of contentment.

John gently leaned his forehead against his wife's and relished in the moment as she smiled happily. "Reminds me of our wedding day," he said.

Mary frowned in contemplation. "Does it? I'm not so sure I agree. I mean, it's not the same church… or flower arrangements."

Her husband returned her frown but there was no time to comment upon it as the organ started playing the expected tune. As Bach's notes filled the small church, everyone rose from their seats and turned to face the back of the room.

John winked up at the groom in encouragement, before he too turned and waited to finally behold the bride-to-be.

From the very back of the church, on the last row of wooden pews, Sherlock sighed impatiently and drummed his fingers against his knee. "Why are we in the back?"