Chapter Text
It seemed that the wait was longer than usual again, if only to aggravate Anderson with the added suspense from the cliff-hanger. He began tapping his foot impatiently on the shag carpet, grumbling, ‘What’s taking so long?’
John sighed. ‘It’ll start when it starts. Why are you so invested in this? It’s my life!’
‘It’s not just yours! It’s Sherlock’s too! And I make some appearances!’
‘You gotta admit,’ Sally cut in, ‘he’s got a point. Maybe not so much with that last one, but pretty close.’
FLASHBACK. A mock-up of the wedding invitation is on the screen of a laptop. The top part reads:
*
Dr John Hamish WATSON & Miss Mary Elizabeth MORSTAN
Request the pleasure of your company
at their marriage
*
John points at the screen.
JOHN: Does it have to be on the invitation?
MARY: It’s your name.
She, John, and Sherlock are in 221B’s living room looking at the laptop.
MARY: It’s traditional.
SHERLOCK (simultaneously): It’s funny.
John looks round at Sherlock while Mary bites back a smile.
#
TESSA (voiceover): Enjoy the wedding.
Anderson’s eyes widened comically. ‘That’s right! How did Sherlock not notice that before?’ he exclaimed.
Lestrade frowned. ‘I think he was a bit preoccupied at the time.’
‘That shouldn’t matter! He’s Sherlock Holmes!’
#
At the reception, Sherlock’s glass continues its ultra-slow-motion fall towards the floor.
#
In the Council Chamber, Tessa smiles brightly at Sherlock.
TESSA: Enjoy the wedding.
SHERLOCK (pointing at her): The wedding. You knew about the wedding; more importantly, you’d seen a wedding invitation. Now barely a hundred people had seen that invitation. The Mayfly Man only saw five women. For one person to be in both groups ... (he tilts his hand back and forth) ... could be a coincidence.
MYCROFT (disapprovingly, offscreen): Oh, Sherlock.
Mycroft was torn between a frown and a smile, not sure whether to be flattered that he was a figment in his brother’s mind palace, making him see reason, or keeping himself neutral.
[…] SHERLOCK (stopping, while continuing to stare intensely up at his brother): They lied, assumed false identities.
MYCROFT: Which suggests…?
SHERLOCK: Criminal intent.
MYCROFT: Also suggests…?
SHERLOCK: Intelligence, planning.
MYCROFT: Clearly. But more importantly…?
‘More importantly what, Mycroft?’ Lestrade asked with a smug grin.
Mycroft scowled at him. ‘That isn’t me. It’s a figment – an interpretation of myself within my brother’s mind.’
‘He’s got you pretty spot on the nose,’ John observed with a snort of laughter.
Mycroft said nothing because he couldn’t deny that point. There was hardly any difference – aside from the fact that the Mycroft in his brother’s head was fatter, if only slightly. (Was that really how his brother saw him?)
Quiet, but still audible, Anderson said, ‘Does anyone else notice that this is happening in Sherlock’s head while he is still at the wedding?’
#
The champagne glass continues its fall.
#
SHERLOCK (in the Chamber): The Mayfly Man.
#
The champagne glass continues downwards.
#
SHERLOCK (in the Chamber): The Mayfly Man is…
#
[…] At the reception, Sherlock looks around, clearly thinking frantically. He flickers back and forth between the Chamber and the reception but then looks at the guests.
SHERLOCK: Now, where were we?
‘How can they not see what’s going on?’ Sally wondered. She knew Sherlock acted strangely, and most of the people were strangers, but at least his close friends would realise that something was wrong, right? At least John, or Molly, or Mrs Hudson, or even Lestrade?
[…] MYCROFT (sternly, in the Council Chamber): Don’t lose it.
At the reception, Sherlock raises both hands and gestures downwards.
SHERLOCK: And down again.
‘What’s he doing now?’ Sally asked.
‘Testing it?’ Anderson suggested, though, when she looked over at him, all he could do was shrug.
Confused, the guests start to sit down, murmuring amongst themselves. Sherlock looks at them for a moment, then puts his glass down on the table and straightens up.
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech – get off early, leave ’em laughing. Wise advice I’ll certainly try to bear in mind. But for now…
Even as Sherlock trailed off, the viewers braced themselves. They knew Sherlock well enough that he was going to do…something. They weren’t sure yet what that was, but if he was going to figure out the case, he’d definitely do something unexpected.
[…] He looks at each person as he walks past, mentally tagging each of the men with a sign near them reading, ‘MAYFLY MAN?’ The only male guest who doesn’t get a tag is young Archie.
‘It’s starting!’ Anderson cried.
Sally rolled her eyes. ‘It’s been going for the past few hours! It feels like days! Weeks! What I’m wondering is when it’s all going to end!’
‘No! Don’t say that!’ Anderson replied, aghast.
As if to agree with him., the screen suddenly went blank to allow more words to be visible. Don’t worry. You’ll be out of here before you know it. We just need to witness several more cases…for experimental observation purposes, of course.
As the screen flipped back to the wedding, Lestrade laughed. ‘Have you noticed that the only man in the room without a tag is Archie?’
‘Of course,’ Anderson said. ‘Anyone else could be him, couldn’t he?’
‘Even me?’
Anderson didn’t have an answer for the DI, but Mycroft did. ‘Realistically, you were never shown, so it could be plausible that you are not one of Sherlock’s suspects. I assume John is also inherently innocent.’
[…] SHERLOCK: Weddings are great! Love a wedding.
MARY (quietly, to John): What’s he doing?
JOHN (watching his friend with concern): Something’s wrong.
‘Ah! Finally someone notices that Sherlock’s not acting like he normally does!’ Sally cheered. ‘I mean, he’s eccentric at best, but seriously!’
[…] SHERLOCK: …once. Might not be peas. Might not be him. But he’s got a great singing voice…or somebody does.
‘I see that one of Sherlock’s many talents isn’t continuing with a best man speech while trying to narrow down a possible murderer,’ Molly said jokingly.
‘Well, whose is, dear?’ Mrs Hudson asked.
He sighs in frustration, his teeth clenched.
SHERLOCK: Ahh, too many, too many, too many, too many!
‘I’d honestly hate to be at your wedding, John, especially as a stranger with the best man going crazy on the floor at the reception,’ Sally said.
‘I’d honestly hate to have you there,’ John deadpanned.
‘Burn…,’ Anderson whispered.
[…] MYCROFT: Criminal intent.
SHERLOCK (at the reception): Where was I? Ah, yes…
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Extraordinary lengths.
‘Don’t know about you,’ Anderson whispered to Sally, ‘but I’d hate to have him in my head while I’m trying to focus.’
‘God, don’t we all?’ she muttered back.
Mycroft turned his nose up at the two. ‘And why would I be in your heads? It’s not like you’ve actually solved any cases.’
The room went silent, all except for Lestrade’s wheezing laugh. ‘He’s got you there,’ he said.
Sally sneered. ‘Oh, shut up!’
SHERLOCK (at the reception): Speech! (He points towards the top table, grinning round at the guests.) Speech. (He claps his hands together again.) Let’s talk about…
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): All of which is suggestive of…?
In the Chamber, Sherlock’s eyes widen, and he presses his lips together to begin forming the word.
SHERLOCK (at the reception): …murder.
‘It must be difficult to keep up two conversations at once,’ Mrs Hudson observed.
John sighs and lowers his head, while Mary frowns.
SHERLOCK: Sorry, did I say ‘murder’? I meant to say ‘marriage’ – but, you know, they’re quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and it’s over when one of them’s dead.
He emphatically sounds the ‘d’ at the end of the word. Again, John sighs and lowers his head.
John does the same thing while sitting on the couch watching his future wedding unfold, because of course someone has to ruin it by attempting a murder, and of course Sherlock has to try and stop it without alarming the murderer. He hadn’t noticed it before, but it appeared that Sherlock was doing exactly what he’d just spent his speech saying was John’s purpose. He was not solving a murder; he was saving a life. The only question remained – would he be able to do it?
[…] Sherlock now has his phone behind his own back and is rapidly typing onto it with his thumb.
‘That’s a talent I’d love to have.’ Anderson sighed wistfully. It seemed like such a useless talent – to be able to type with one hand behind your back (on the hand that was behind your back, no less!).
‘There’s a lot of talents you’d love you have, I bet,’ Sally sniped, ‘Considering you don’t have many to begin with.’
He frowned. ‘That was rude.’
[…] LESTRADE: It’s Greg.
SHERLOCK: The loos, please.
Greg’s phone beeps a text alert.
LESTRADE (reaching into his pocket): Why?
‘You’re being awfully blank, Greg,’ Mrs Hudson fretted. ‘Were you feeling all right?’
Lestrade shook his head, baffled by how he hadn’t gotten Sherlock’s signal. It was so obvious! How could he have not understood?
[…] SHERLOCK: Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos.
He directs the last two words directly to John in a conversational way as if they’re a natural part of the sentence. John straightens up in his chair.
‘Was that some sort of signal?’ Anderson turned to look at John.
At that, nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes. ‘Of course it’s a signal! He used it before, don’t you remember?’ Sally said, exasperated.
‘He did?’
‘Yeah,’ John admitted. ‘The first time actually being when we were at Irene’s. Surely, you remember that. It wasn’t that long ago.’
‘So much has happened since then.’ Anderson’s face flushed.
‘At least you picked it up quicker than Greg, here,’ Mycroft said.
Lestrade frowned at him. ‘Give me a break! I was off-duty!’
[…] MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Narrow. It. Down.
‘You know, you’re not actually being very helpful,’ Mrs Hudson scolded Mycroft.
A deep sigh escaped his nose. ‘I hardly see it as my problem that my brother chooses to use me as a strategy in his crime solving, nor can I control how he does so.’
[…] In both worlds, he slaps his left cheek.
SHERLOCK: (loudly, angrily, in the reception room): No!
‘I guess it’s a good thing that he doesn’t care what people think of him,’ Molly said.
‘Though I’m sure a bunch of people will avoid talking to Mary and me for a while, considering we’re friends with this crazy weirdo,’ John said jokingly.
Lestrade laughed. ‘Yeah. Right, but seeing it from his perspective makes it less strange. And at least it’s a funny story to tell people. The Weirdo at the Wedding.’
[…] JOHN: What do I do?
SHERLOCK: Well, you’ve already done it. Don’t solve the murder. (Intensely) Save the life.
Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, he turns towards the guests again with a manic grin on his face.
SHERLOCK: Sorry. Off-piste a bit. Back now. (High-pitched) Phew!
‘Has he always been this childish?’ Sally whispered. She’d never noticed it before. Was this John Watson’s doing, or not? She recalled moments even as far back as their first case together where Sherlock would act this way, but only recently had he become more comfortable acting as such in public. Even back during what John had so lovingly dubbed ‘A Study in Pink’, Sherlock had waited until Lestrade left after announcing a case to voice his excitement. Now, he was acting like a child, dancing down the aisles and making funny voices in the middle of a room full of people.
[…] SHERLOCK (steepling his hands in front of his chin as he progresses forward): Imagine someone’s going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?
MRS HUDSON: I think you’re a popular choice at the moment, dear.
SHERLOCK (gesturing behind him): If someone could move Mrs Hudson’s glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. —
‘Um…why? So she doesn’t drink any more, or so she doesn’t kill him with it?’ Anderson was getting a bit worried.
‘It could honestly go either way, I think,’ John said.
—More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?
He turns back to look at the guests and gives each one – both the men and the women – a new tag reading, ‘TARGET?’ A line leads from each tag down to the relevant person and at the end of that line a small white bullseye overlays their body.
‘Well, that wasn’t very smart. He just doubled the number of people he’d have to narrow down,’ Sally said with a scoff.
‘Not so,’ Mycroft replied. ‘It is far easier to narrow down all of the guests for a target than to rifle through them for the murderer.’
The others weren’t sure what to be more shocked about – the fact that Mycroft was talking so much, or that he was bothering to explain. Either way, they weren’t sure that they’d get used to the extra input any time soon.
SHERLOCK: Most people you can kill any old place. As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of friends and colleagues.
‘What the –!’ Sally started to say, only for Anderson’s hand to come out of nowhere to slap across her face.
‘Shhh!’ he shushed her. ‘It’s just getting good!’
She had to fully restrain herself from biting him and settled instead on just staring at him like he was even crazier than Sherlock.
Rubbing his hands together in an Evil Genius sort of way, he walks back along the room, then gestures towards John.
SHERLOCK: Now John I’d poison.
Mary nervously looks across to her husband.
SHERLOCK: Sloppy eater – dead easy. I’ve given him chemicals and compounds – that way, he’s never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn’t have a clue. Lestrade’s so easy to kill, it’s a miracle no-one’s succumbed to the temptation. (He turns and heads towards the back of the room again.) I’ve got a pair of keys to my brother’s house – I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him.
Anderson was still stuck on Lestrade’s murder. ‘Who would be tempted to murder something just based on the fact that it would be easy to do so?’
Lestrade shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised.’
‘You forget that this is the man who didn’t expect two old people in Sherlock’s flat to be his parents, even when we said that’s probably who they were. He’d be surprised by anything,’ Sally retorted.
He makes strangling gestures with his hands, then seems to realise that he may have gone too far.
SHERLOCK: …if, if the whim arose.
Mycroft frowned.
TOM (quietly to Molly): He’s pissed, isn’t he?
‘Will you shut up?’ Sally sighed. ‘Honestly, I preferred it when Moriarty was her boyfriend!’
Everyone just stared at her like she was crazy.
Without even looking around at him, Molly stabs a plastic fork into the back of his hand.
TOM (grabbing at his hand): Ow!
Laughter broke out throughout the entire room. Even Mycroft had to abandon his downturned lips for a small smile.
[…] SHERLOCK: Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity.
He turns around and more of the guests have gone.
Lestrade’s eyes widened. ‘It’s Major Sholto, isn’t it?’ He turned to John. ‘That’s what you’ve been hinting at the whole time?’
John’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘How could we be hinting at it? We didn’t even know until now. We still don’t know if it’s him.’
‘But you have been. You’ve been talking about how he doesn’t get out much and he’s living off in the middle of nowhere and he gets more death threats than Sherlock. How could we not know that he’s the target?’
John was once again left speechless.
[…] SHERLOCK: …killing them in private isn’t an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then.
He turns again, and all the visible seats are now empty.
‘Who is it?’ And yet, Anderson was still confused.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Sally snarled at him sarcastically. ‘God, you’re a bloody idiot….’
[…] As if sensing Sherlock’s gaze, Sholto turns and looks at him. Sherlock stares back at him.
#
FLASHBACK. 221B LIVING ROOM.
SHERLOCK: Major James Sholto. Who he?
MARY: I don’t think he’s coming.
JOHN: He’ll be there.
#
FLASHBACK. EARLIER AT THE RECEPTION.
JOHN: Where are you living these days?
SHOLTO: Oh, way out in the middle of nowhere.
#
FLASHBACK. ON THE PARK BENCH OUTSIDE THE BARRACKS.
JOHN (to Sherlock): The press and the families gave him hell. He gets more death threats than you.
#
‘I knew it!’ Lestrade whispered excitedly. ‘I knew it was him!’
Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘Congratulations.’
At the reception, everyone is back in the room. Sherlock tries to act nonchalantly as he walks over to a nearby table and picks up one of the name cards on it while pulling a pen on a chain from his waistcoat.
SHERLOCK: Ooh! A recluse, small household staff.
#
FLASHBACK TO THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.
SHERLOCK: Job.
GAIL: Gardener.
CHARLOTTE: Cook.
TESSA: Private nurse.
VICKY: Maid.
#
SHERLOCK (writing on the name card in the reception room): High turnover for additional security.
#
FLASHBACK TO THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.
ROBYN: I do security work.
#
SHERLOCK (walking over to Sholto’s table and casually dropping the name card down in front of him before walking away): Probably all signed confidentiality agreements.
#
FLASHBACK TO THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.
SHERLOCK: Do you have a secret you’ve never told anyone?
ALL THE WOMEN (simultaneously): No.
#
SHERLOCK (at the reception): There is another question that remains, however – a big one, a huge one: how would you do it? How would you kill someone in public?
Sholto picks up the name card and looks at the writing on it. It reads:
*
IT’S YOU
*
SHERLOCK: There has to be a way. This has been planned.
ARCHIE (excitedly jumping up from his chair): Mr Holmes! Mr Holmes!
Lestrade’s eyes widened. ‘If this kid solves the crime before Sherlock does, I’m going to –’
‘Quit?’ Sally supplied.
He looked at her, then contemplated the young boy. ‘Yeah, sure, I’ll do that.’ The screen had helpfully paused before the boy could continue.
Anderson took his chance to say, ‘Has anyone else noticed that even though Sherlock is awful at remembering names and actively avoids children, he makes an exception for Archie? Do you think he’ll take the boy on as his apprentice?’
John was quiet for a moment. ‘You know, he probably will.’
The screen un-paused.
SHERLOCK (stopping and turning to him): Oh, hello again, Archie. (He bends forward to get more down to Archie’s level.) What’s your theory? Get this right and there’s a headless nun in it for you.
‘Was he really that blatant in front of Archie’s mother?’
ARCHIE: The invisible man could do it.
SHERLOCK (very quick fire): The who, the what, the why, the when, the where?
ARCHIE: The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the Guardsman.
Lestrade was speechless. That little boy had actually done it. He’d actually solved the case before Sherlock! At least, his theory was probably what would lead Sherlock to discovering exactly what the whole case was about. What luck that the two cases that Sherlock told them about in his speech would tie in perfectly with the murder that was about to happen at John’s wedding. He’d said just moment before that the world was never so lazy as to create a coincidence, but other than divine fate, that was exactly what this situation had to be.
Meanwhile, Anderson was just thinking, ‘Why can’t I be helpful like that?’ Because he’s Anderson. That’s why.
[…] Sherlock zooms in on the word ‘Rehearsal’ and grimaces.
Lestrade’s eyes widened yet again. ‘Bainbridge was just a test? He was just some random victim?’ He felt outraged.
[…] SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude.
He skids to a halt in front of the top table and turns and holds up his glass.
SHERLOCK: The bride and groom!
A little uncertainly this time, the guests stand up and raise their glasses.
GUESTS: The bride and groom.
‘God, this whole thing has been a mess of ups and downs and side to sides,’ John muttered. At least he could say that his wedding wasn’t boring, but he had to admit that he would’ve had to be crazy to think that any event involving Sherlock Holmes would be anything but a madhouse.
[…] SHERLOCK: ’Scuse me, coming through!?
John quickly turns and takes Mary’s head in one hand and kisses her.
SHERLOCK (pushing through the crowd): Consulting!
Mrs Hudson smiled, slightly amused by Sherlock’s pardons.
‘Those poor guests,’ Molly mumbled next to her. ‘They have no idea that this is what it’s normally like to be around Sherlock.’
[…] JOHN: ’Scuse me. Coming through! ’Scuse me.
Mary hesitates for only a few seconds, then jumps up and follows him.
‘Oh, come on, Mary!’ John protested.
MARY (to the guests): Sorry, one more. Whoops! So sorry! Thank you!
The guests murmur and chatter to each other in confusion.
#
Upstairs, Major Sholto opens the door to his bedroom and walks in. He lays his sword on the bed and then undoes the zip around his suitcase. Lifting the lid and laying it back, he picks up a folded shirt on the top of the contents and puts it down inside the lid. On top of the rest of his clothing is a large pistol. He picks it up.
Lestrade crossed his arms. ‘Let’s just hope that Sherlock can remember his room number so you can get to him in time.’
#
Downstairs, on a half-landing partway up the staircase, Sherlock stands with the tips of his fingers against his temples and his eyes screwed closed. John paces impatiently beside him.
JOHN: How can you not remember which room? You remember everything.
Lestrade was shocked. ‘What?’
‘Why are they just standing there? How could Sherlock not have that room specifically filed away? He should’ve known that something was going to happen!’
John turned around to face Sally angrily. ‘So, first you call him a freak for being smart and now you’re judging because he’s being human? Make up your mind already!’ he seethed.
[…] SHERLOCK (rattling the door handle): Major Sholto? Major Sholto!
‘Is it even the right room?’ Molly fretted.
[…] JOHN: Major, let us in.
MARY: Kick the door down.
SHOLTO: I really wouldn’t. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.
‘Then just put the gun down, you idiot!’ John yelled at his former commanding officer.
[…] SHOLTO: You’re the famous Mr Holmes. Solve the case. On you go.
Sherlock straightens up, his eyes rapidly flickering from side to side.
SHOLTO: Tell me how he did it and I’ll open the door.
Anderson’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. ‘That’s a lot of pressure…,’ he mumbled. He continued mumbling, wondering how Sherlock would solve the case. There was no new information, so he would just have to pull the clues right out of his own memory and hope that his brain had acted on its own to store the correct information. He was starting to think that if this was the kind of pressure that was put on Sherlock, maybe he didn’t want to be like him. With that reputation, people were beginning to expect that he could solve anything, and while that had its up-sides, it also had this one major flaw.
[…] MARY (to Sherlock): Solve it.
He stops and looks at her.
SHERLOCK: Sorry?
MARY: Solve it, and he’ll open the door, like he said.
‘Yeah, it sounds easy when you say it like that, but there’s more to it,’ Sally growled.
‘He can do it.’
Everyone turned to look at Mrs Hudson, who had her face set in a determined expression of complete and utter faith in her tenant-turned-son. None of them, save Mycroft, knew how she could be so sure of Sherlock, but they just had to put their trust in him like Sholto, Mary, and Mrs Hudson had.
SHERLOCK: If I couldn’t solve it before, how can I solve it now?
MARY: Because it matters now.
Molly gasped. ‘That’s right!’ she exclaimed. ‘He can solve it because it matters now!’
SHERLOCK: What are you talking about? (He looks at John.) What’s she talking about? Get your wife under control.
‘What he said,’ Anderson agreed. ‘What in the world are you two talking about?’
‘They’re right, though,’ John said, perfectly in sync as his on-screen counterpart said:
JOHN: She’s right.
Anderson was still confused – as always.
John just rolled his eyes. ‘Sherlock has always worked best when there’s a time limit – when there’s pressure. Remember Moriarty and the pips? The star painting? The game is on; that’s what fuels him. The high he gets from the case is what helps him figure it out.’
SHERLOCK: Oh, you’ve changed!
JOHN: No, she is. (He turns and points at him.) Shut up. You are not a puzzle-solver – you never have been. You’re a drama queen.
Sherlock’s mouth drops open and he stares at him.
JOHN (louder): Now, there is a man in there about to die. (Sarcastically) ‘The game is on.’ (Angrily, pointing at the door.) Solve it!
‘Way to give your friend a pep talk, John,’ Molly joked.
[…] Bainbridge stumbles slightly, looking uncomfortable.
Blood continues to pour from the hole in the beef joint.
The duty sergeant knocks on the door of the shower cubicle, calling Bainbridge’s name. Bainbridge is slumped on the floor inside and bloodstained water pours out under the door.
Anderson was once again dumbfounded. Completely dumbfounded. This time, however, Sally joined him in his world of bewilderment.
‘I can’t believe that actually worked…,’ she grunted.
Outside Sholto’s bedroom Sherlock – who had closed his eyes during the memories – opens them again. He steps over to Mary, takes hold of her head in both hands and kisses her forehead.
SHERLOCK (releasing her, then pointing towards John): Though, in fairness, he’s a drama queen too.
MARY: Yeah, I know.
Lestrade shrugged. ‘Can’t argue with that. You were being pretty dramatic.’
John grumbled a few unintelligible words under his breath.
[…] JOHN: The-the belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight…
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
JOHN: …and when you took it off…
SHERLOCK: Delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi.
He shakes the door handle.
SHERLOCK: Major Sholto?
‘He’s going to open the door, though, right?’ Molly asked, sounding suddenly worried. The door wasn’t opening. What was going on? Why would he just change his mind like that? ‘He promised he’d open the door when Sherlock solved it.’
[…] MARY: He solved the case, Major. You’re supposed to open the door now. A deal is a deal.
‘Come on! Come on!’ Anderson was urging. ‘A deal is a deal!’
[…] He carefully tosses the pistol onto the bed and then looks into the mirror again.
‘He put the gun down; now’s your chance to kick down the door, John! Go on, do it!’ Sally insisted, gesturing to the door.
‘I know I’m sitting right here, but he can’t hear you. You know that, right?’ John asked, somewhat annoyed.
‘Yes!’ she snapped, ‘but it’s just so…argh!’ She curled her fingers together, shaking them angrily.
[…] SHOLTO: There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?
SHERLOCK: Of course there is.
SHOLTO: And one should embrace it when it comes – like a soldier.
SHERLOCK (firmly): Of course one should, but not at John’s wedding. We wouldn’t do that, would we – you and me? We would never do that to John Watson.
‘He has a point,’ Mycroft agreed. ‘Though all this sentimentality is making my tea go sour.’ He frowned down at the cup of fresh, hot English tea in his hand. Where had that come from?
[…] SHOLTO: I believe I am in need of medical attention.
JOHN: I believe I am your doctor.
He follows Sholto as he turns and goes back into the room. Giving Sherlock a quick smile, Mary follows him. Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, then follows them.
Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
‘That was awful,’ Molly admitted.
‘You sure are right, dear,’ Mrs Hudson concurred.
EVENING.
[…] JANINE (adjusting the top of her strapless bridesmaid’s dress): Why do we have to rehearse?
‘Why are they even dancing in the first place?’ Anderson whispered.
John frowned at him. ‘Um…because it’s a wedding and they’re the best man and maid of honour? It’s tradition for them to dance.’
[…] JANINE (in a whisper): Go on, then.
SHERLOCK: I love dancing. I’ve always loved it.
JANINE: Seriously?
‘Yeah, seriously?’ Sally asked, incredulous.
Mycroft sniffed pointedly. ‘That was one of the activities from our youth that he actually enjoyed. If he wasn’t out cataloguing bugs and dirt and every other such thing.’
SHERLOCK (quietly): Watch out.
Looking around to make sure that nobody else can see him, he swings both of his arms to the left, takes a sharp breath, rises onto his left foot, and does a full-circle pirouette.
JANINE: Ooh! Woah!
Sally really wanted to laugh, but she refrained. She did not need to be kicked out again just because she laughed at the thought of Sherlock Holmes taking ballet lessons.
SHERLOCK (clearing his throat): Never really comes up in crime work but, um, you know, I live in hope of the right case.
‘What kind of case would even require him to dance, I wonder….’ Molly bit her lip, deep in thought.
JANINE (sighing wistfully): I wish you weren’t…
He turns and looks at her.
JANINE: …whatever it is you are.
SHERLOCK: I know.
‘Are they…flirting?’ Sally asked, appalled. She wasn’t even sure what to think, now. She’d had one image of Sherlock Holmes in her head – set for so long that she’d refused to think of him in any other way, and now he was just breaking stereotype after stereotype. What was she going to do?
[…] LESTRADE: Sherlock? (He points back out the door.) Got him for you.
SHERLOCK (clapping his hands together as the wedding photographer walks in): Ah, the photographer. Excellent! (To Greg) Thank you.
‘Why would he need the photographer to be there? Is the murderer in the photographs? Did he figure it out?’ Anderson grew giddy once again. Then, he stopped himself. ‘Of course he solved it! Of course he figured it out!’ he scolded himself.
Sally leaned away from him. He’d been crazy before but talking to himself was a new milestone that she really hadn’t wanted him to hit.
[…] Back in the present, Sherlock rapidly slaps one cuff of a pair of handcuffs around the photographer’s wrist and the other cuff around the frame of a nearby birdcage luggage trolley.
‘Where did he get those handcuffs?’ Lestrade almost went to check his pockets, knowing that Sherlock must’ve pickpocketed him, but then he realised that Sherlock was just on a screen, and he must’ve pickpocketed the version of him at the wedding. But then…why would he be carrying handcuffs around with him? Always had to be prepared, probably.
SHERLOCK: …the camera.
PHOTOGRAPHER: What are you doing? What is this?
SHERLOCK (holding up his phone to show the screen to the others): Jonathan Small, today’s substitute wedding photographer – known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion. Jonny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto’s staff, found what he needed…
‘So…wait. Both cases that he talked about and the murder at John’s wedding were interconnected? That’s way too perfect!’ Anderson pointed out. ‘How could the same guy stump Sherlock twice in a row and then almost stump him a third time? Wouldn’t that make him better than Moriarty?’
‘Not so.’ Mycroft was quick to shoot him down. ‘Moriarty enjoyed toying with Sherlock far too much. Any case that he left for Sherlock to follow was deliberate. If he didn’t want Sherlock to figure it out, Sherlock wouldn’t even know about it. This man made far too many mistakes to be on Moriarty’s level.’
[…] Nearby, Mary comes into view, apparently looking for John. She spots him, smiles, and hurries towards him. Janine, standing beside Sherlock, leans closer and speaks quietly without looking at him.
JANINE: Do you always carry handcuffs?
SHERLOCK: Down, girl.
Sally gaped. ‘Okay, I’m calling it. They’re totally flirting!’
‘Shut. Up,’ Molly said.
[…] SMALL: I shouldn’t have tried to be clever.
SHERLOCK (softly): You should have driven faster.
‘Ooooh, burn!’ Anderson yelled.
He takes his hands from behind his back and crooks one arm to Janine. She takes it and they walk away. John and Mary follow them. Greg looks down at Sherlock’s phone, then looks at Small.
LESTRADE: Right…
#
In the reception room, the tables have been cleared away. Looking into each other’s eyes, Mary and John are dancing a slow waltz in the middle of the room to the sound of a single violin while all the guests stand around the edge of the room and watch them. On a low stage at the end of the room Sherlock is playing his violin. The tune is the same one we heard at the beginning of the episode.
‘He’s playing the song he composed!’ Mrs Hudson squealed excitedly.
He sways gently while he plays, his eyes fixed on the newlyweds.
For just a moment, the screen shows Molly standing next to Janine, far away from Tom. Her eyes are red, like she’d been crying, and there are still tears in her eyes. It was only for a moment, but Mycroft picked up on it. He didn’t bring attention to it, though, only filed it away in the back of his mind. Would he have to keep a closer eye on this Tom character?
[…] The guests break into applause and some of them cheer. Everyone is looking at the happy couple except Janine who directs her applause towards Sherlock. She whoops at him.
JANINE: Yeah!
Sally rolled her eyes. ‘She is way too dramatic.’
Sherlock looks at her for a moment, then turns to the music stand in front of him. He had taken off his buttonhole flower and put it on the stand so that it wouldn’t get in the way while he was playing and now, he picks it up, shows her what he’s holding and then tosses it across the room towards her. She catches it.
‘Something is going to happen between those two,’ Sally whispered to herself. ‘I just know it.’ She didn’t know whether to be jealous or just really confused.
[…] SHERLOCK: More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. I’ve never made a vow in my life, and after tonight I never will again. So, here in front of you all, my first and last vow. Mary and John: whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there, always, for all three of you.
He hesitates momentarily, then stutters.
‘Wait. What?’ John nearly jumped out of his seat.
SHERLOCK: Er, I’m sorry, I mean, I mean two of you. All two of you. Both of you, in fact. I’ve just miscounted.
‘There is no way that Sherlock can’t count to two! He’s already forgotten the solar system, but surely numbers would be important enough to not delete?’ John continued, stressing nearly every syllable.
[…] SHERLOCK: Sorry, that was one more deduction than I was really expecting.
MARY: ‘Deduction’?
‘She’s pregnant, isn’t she?’ Molly asked, looking at John.
He had his head in his hands. ‘How did I not see it?’ he was muttering. ‘How could I miss it?’
[…] SHERLOCK: W…th…the statistics for the first trimester are…
JOHN (straightening up): Shut up.
Sherlock freezes in the middle of forming his next word. He looks at John as if waiting for permission to continue.
This time, Sally can’t hold back her laughter. She is joined by most of the others in the room.
‘That face! He looks like a deer in the headlights!’ she snorted, shaking her mane of unruly hair.
[…] SHERLOCK: Yes, I would. You’re already the best parents in the world. Look at all the practice you’ve had!
JOHN: What practice?
SHERLOCK: Well, you’re hardly gonna need me around now that you’ve got a real baby on the way.
Mrs Hudson giggled quietly. ‘He’s right, you know,’ she pointed out to John.
[…] Sherlock turns his smile towards Mary, but after a moment the smile begins to fade a little.
Lestrade – who had been smiling before – frowned. He could see that Sherlock was just realizing the true meaning of his words. Not only was his best friend married, but he also had a baby on the way. Things were going to change, and he was probably worried that it wouldn’t be for the better. He probably thought that John wouldn’t have any time for him anymore.
[…] SHERLOCK: Don’t worry, Mary, I have been tutoring him.
JOHN: He did, you know. Baker Street, behind closed curtains.
Turning to face her, he takes her right hand with his left and puts his other hand on her waist.
JOHN: Mrs Hudson came in one time. Don’t know how those rumours started!
Mrs Hudson clapped like she couldn’t wait to walk in on them dancing – and possibly doing other things behind the closed curtains – together. Lestrade, John, and Molly all rolled their eyes, but were still grinning.
[…] As his friends dance away, he lowers his eyes, then slowly turns, and looks at everybody dancing all around him, keeping his head lowered as if trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. He looks very lost and alone in the middle of the crowd.
The mood faded just a little bit. Sherlock looked so much at a loss for what to do. He looked so lonely despite the room being so crowded. Was that how he felt every day without John around? The viewers couldn’t help but wonder.
[…] Sherlock stops when he realises that she’s dancing with the ‘comics and sci-fi geek’ he had recommended to her earlier. She turns away and continues to dance with her new friend. Sherlock looks reflective for a few seconds, then turns towards the stage.
‘Oh, come on!’ Sally screamed. She was really rooting for Sherlock and Janine to get together. Why, she still wasn’t sure, but she honestly believed that there was something there.
[…] Written on the envelope is:
*
Dr and Mrs Watson
*
Leaving the stage he walks slowly through the guests. Molly, dancing with Tom and Mrs Hudson, looks across the room and watches him for a few seconds, then turns back to the others.
Molly frowned, because her on-screen self looked so much like she wanted to follow Sherlock, to at least see how he was doing, but she stayed with Tom as some sort of obligation. Was she really happy with him? You would think that she knew herself better than anyone, but she couldn’t tell – and that scared her, to be honest.
#
In the garden outside the reception room, while the revellers dance on, Sherlock puts his coat on and, with the collar turned up to the max, slowly walks away.
Mrs Hudson gasped. ‘He left the wedding early!’ She looked absolutely scandalised and immediately began plotting. She could not let her boys fall out from each other. There had to be some way to keep them together if anything happened.
‘He’s also doing that thing with his collar and his cheekbones to make himself look cool,’ Anderson whispered loudly. ‘Even though there’s no one around to watch his dramatic exit except for us right now. Do you think he somehow knew we’d see it, or that he just likes to look cool even when no one is watching?’
No one else commented about how crazy that was.
‘Seriously, Anderson?’
