"Stop fidgeting, your life isn't being threatened," Sherlock scolded me. "It's not hard, Rachel. Just stay with the tempo."

I grimaced. "How can I when you keep scolding me? You're discouraging me more than helping."

"I can't help it if you won't listen to what I'm telling you."

"I'm trying."

"How difficult is this? It should be something a child can learn."

I huffed, squeezing his hand, hoping I was hurting him. "You would make a terrible teacher. Teachers are to help their students, not bring them down with harsh criticism."

"That kind helps people strive harder. Kindness doesn't get people very far."

"Do you do this on purpose? Put people down? You ask for trouble by doing that."

"I've gotten into plenty. Who says I can't get into more?"

"Sherlock, this should be simple, but you're making it sound much more complicated! So what if I'm not precise? So what if my body isn't set up the proper way? I don't exactly take dancing seriously."

Apparently, the world's only consulting detective was a fan of dancing. Who could ever associate Sherlock Holmes with dancing? At first, I'd laughed, because the idea sounded ridiculous, but after a little display, I believed him.

So on top of finishing his song—which I found out, was for Dad and Mary—Sherlock had another mission to complete. The mission: make me have some experience in dancing. Let me tell you, the mission sounded silly. But somehow Sherlock tricked me into it. Damn him. He could be persuasive when he wanted to be.

I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"If we'd done this a few times before, this wouldn't be as bad," I told him. "But instead you decided to try this on the big day, which is hours away, mind you. We've still got to get ready."

"Right now this is more important."

I continued to try and match Sherlock's pace with the music. I could tell he was making snide notes in his head, ready to tell me them. As if I hadn't gotten enough already this morning. I'd barely gotten a chance to eat a proper breakfast before he roped me into this. He'd convinced me when I was half awake.

I noticed a break in our monotony as I saw the door slide open. Mrs. Hudson had a huge smile on her face, in her hands a tray full of tea things. I couldn't help but smile sheepishly back at her. Naturally, Sherlock noticed, looking over his shoulder.

"Shut up, Mrs. Hudson," he commented.

"I haven't said a word."

Sherlock sighed. "You're formulating a question. It's physically painful watching you think." I was thankful when the lesson was cut short. Silently, I was grateful for Mrs. Hudson's intrusion. "And the same can be said—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, my dancing is horrible," I snapped. "I don't need another reminder."

"I thought it was you playing," Mrs. Hudson kept going. Though Sherlock and I had stopped, the music hadn't.

"It was me playing," he clarified. With a small remote, he cut off the music, making some note on the sheet music on the table. "I am composing."

"Still composing," I corrected.

"I've been busy."

Mrs. Hudson placed the tray on the small table near Dad's chair. "You were dancing."

"I was road-testing."

"You what?"

Sherlock put down the pen and turned to her. "Why are you here?"

"I'm bringing you your morning tea." She poured milk into a teacup. "You're not usually awake. I considered making a little extra since you started staying here again, Rachel, but I figured you didn't drink it."

Sherlock plopped a seat in his usual chair. "You bring me tea in the morning?"

"Well, where do you think it came from?"

"I don't know. I just thought it sort of happened. I'd thought Rachel was up to that at first, but then I knew she didn't know how to make it." An annoyingly correct deduction on his part—I didn't know how to make a lot of things.

"Your mother has a lot to answer for." Mrs. Hudson took a cup and saucer over to him. If I didn't know any better, she could have easily been Sherlock's mother, the way she was.

"Mm, I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file."

Mrs. Hudson, bubbly, sat in the unoccupied chair while I still stood, stretching my limbs once more today. "So—it's the big day, then!"

Sherlock took a sip of the tea. "What big day?"

I rolled my eyes.

"The wedding! John and Mary getting married!"

"Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday, and then carry on living together. What's big about that?"

"It changes people, marriage."

"Mmm, no it doesn't."

"Well, you wouldn't understand 'cause you always live alone. Well, most of the time anyway." Mrs. Hudson stole a look at me.

Sherlock was about ready to take more tea, but he stopped. "Your husband was executed for double murder," he reminded her. I blinked rapidly. "You're hardly an advert for companionship." He followed through with another drink.

"Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you can't imagine."

"As does lethal injection." He smiled pointedly at her.

"My best friend, Margaret—she was my chief bridesmaid." From the corner of my eye, I saw Sherlock put his tea down on a nearby table and roll his eyes. "We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw her after that."

Sherlock abruptly stood up. "Aren't there usually biscuits?"

"I've run out."

"Have the shops?" He made a beeline for the door. I sighed, realizing this was Sherlock's way of kicking the landlady out.

"She cried the whole day, saying, 'Ooh, it's the end of an era.'"

"I'm sure the shop on the corner is open." He gestured to the stairs.

"She was probably right, really." I stole a quick look at Sherlock, he didn't look happy. "I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early?" Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "So sad."

"Mmm. Anyway, you've got things to do," Sherlock pressed.

"No, not really. I've got plenty of time to—"

"Biscuits." Sherlock's tone reflected his mood.

Mrs. Hudson finally got the hint, getting out of the chair, heading out. "I really am going to have a word with your mother."

"You can if you like. She understands very little."

"You really can be an ass to everyone," I mused as Sherlock closed the door.

It was like he'd never heard me. I followed his eyes to the chair that Mrs. Hudson had just sat in. I debated on whether or not to say something to Sherlock. He then disappeared through the kitchen, where I was sure he was heading down the hallway. I followed him, realizing I'd left my dress for today in his wardrobe.

Believe me; I had to fight hard to have him let me hang it on the door.

As I went down the hallway, seeing Sherlock in his bedroom, I began to wonder how Dad's marriage would affect him. I would be gone once this was done, and Sherlock would be back to living by himself. I wondered how much it would hurt him, to know that my dad wouldn't be around as much. Instead, he'd be living with his bride, in a place all their own.

I swallowed, realizing this marriage didn't affect just Sherlock; it affected me as well. I was John Watson's daughter. My father was getting married to someone who wasn't my mother. Even now, I had mixed feelings about this wedding. She would never be my mother, but my dad could never be with my mother. She was gone, she couldn't come back.

But I couldn't get in the way of Dad's happiness. I knew he would never get in the way of mine, so why would I want to try and stomp on his?

As I slipped into Sherlock's bedroom, I took quick looks at our outfits for the day's event. Men were lucky; they didn't have a lot to choose from. Women had a more difficult time, unless you're a bridesmaid.

My dress was decided for me, and honestly, I liked it...for the most part. Aside from the annoying bow around the waistline, the dress was strapless and lilac. It was simple, that was what I liked about it most.

"Right, then," Sherlock whispered, whether to himself or me, I wasn't sure. For all I knew, he probably didn't realize I was in the room. "Into battle."

I made sure to shower first because I knew I'd take a while, and I knew Sherlock would badger me until I gave up custody. So while he took up the bathroom, I used the mirror above the fireplace to help me put on makeup. I left my hair straight, as I didn't have much time to deal with it.

My heart raced in my chest. I didn't see why I was the nervous one; I wasn't getting married to Bayley. Bay. I couldn't wait to see him. Thank God the wedding was on the weekend. Bay had flown in a day or two before to get settled in. Unfortunately, the flight wiped him out, so we didn't get to see each other.

Thinking about my boyfriend, I fetched my phone, realizing I had a few messages from him. I also grabbed the anniversary necklace. The outfit—and I—wouldn't be complete without it.

I've got a room for the weekend. You can come stay with me after the wedding.

You have no idea how much I've missed you, Rach.

I smiled. Amazingly, I hadn't been paranoid about Bayley straying away from me since I'd been staying here in London. We'd talk when he wasn't so exhausted. He seemed to be subbing almost every day, the way he made it sound.

I texted back: It's getting closer.

I got a quick response: Don't be nervous.

I'm not.

You are. Don't lie.

So what if I am? :p

It's okay, Rachel. It's a big change.

"Are you done yet?" I called to Sherlock.

"Unlike you, I don't take forever."

I turned to notice how clean Sherlock looked. Not that he normally looked like a slob or anything. He would certainly have girls following him around once they caught sight of him. I thought about Madison and Kendal, who would definitely do that if they were attending the wedding. Thankfully, they weren't, but they asked me to take pictures of him. Like I was going to do that. I wasn't going to fuel their stalking needs.

"Compared to other women, I'm fast," I said haughtily, setting my phone on top of the fireplace. I fiddled with the chain, hoping to connect it in the back. I bit my tongue as I tried to concentrate. Other women made this look so easy.

"The wedding will be over by the time you get it," Sherlock droned. My hands retreated the moment they came into contact with his. I looked at him through the mirror. This was a strangely nice gesture on his part. It still didn't make me believe he'd be this way all the time though.

The double hearts rested on my skin, briefly sending a chill through my body at their cold touch.

"Don't look nervous, it's not the time."

"Then when is?" I retorted. "Speaking of nerves, did you get the speech written?"

"I'm not irresponsible, Rachel."

"Really? Because I'm sure there have been times—"

"You're going to look like a hunchback standing like that. Straighten up." I jumped as Sherlock helped me adjust.

"Since when am I a princess and you my mentor?" I joked. He rolled his eyes. "You're not much for humor, are you?"

"Stop talking. You're delaying."

"Am not." Sherlock narrowed his eyes in the mirror. I caved. "Fine. Let's go."

I ignored my heart's fast pace as Ibrushed past Sherlock, heading for the door. 

**Oooh, battle stations, this wedding is about to be on!!**