I don't own Sherlock Holmes.
This is just an old story I found while sorting out my laptop. I decided to complete it and publish it. Enjoy.
No one could believe it. Sherlock Holmes was going to get married. Sherlock himself couldn't believe it. The young girl down the street stole his heart. They had met by chance, both ending up at the paperboy's side the same time one morning. She had long dark brown hair, curling perfectly over her shoulders. Sherlock took in her appearance in a matter of seconds and deduced she was an artist. They didn't speak, the girl just paid for the newspaper and went on her way. Sherlock wasn't very intrigued, he had a case on his mind, but as their meetings grew more and more frequent Sherlock found himself going to the paperboy every time he knew she would. Finally he asked her name, the memory still fresh in his mind…
"May I ask your name madam?" Sherlock asked as the girl paid for her paper.
She giggled, her gloved hand covering her small mouth perfectly. "Mister Holmes, you ought to know my name by now, or are you not the great detective?" Sherlock was momentarily lost in the sound of her voice before he regained his composure, he told her he was busy on a case and had no time to investigate the name of the lovely girl. She giggled again at being called "lovely.". Her blue eyes sparkled at Sherlock, "My name is Ellendea Blackburn." She offered her hand and Sherlock took it and gave it a small kiss.
"Miss Blackburn… I hope we meet again."
"I'm sure we will Mister Holmes." She smiled, "Good day."
"Good day." Sherlock called after the lovely girl as she went back to her house. He sighed and paid the paperboy before running into his house, excited by a new idea.
Sherlock stared at himself in the mirror, his cravat was slightly off, and he fidgeted with it, but it wouldn't sit perfectly. A sigh escaped his lips as he thought about Ellendea, she'd charmed him, she was the greatest mystery to him. They'd met at odd occasions and finally after three weeks of knowing one another Sherlock invited her to dinner at the Royal. She arrived on time, imprinting herself upon Sherlock's memory. The idea overwhelmed him at first, to take in and hold onto a piece of information that would in no way help him with his job as a detective. But whatever he did he could not rid the images of her in her deep blue dress. Sherlock inhaled and he could smell her, she smelled fresh and home-like, it was a comforting smell, Sherlock could spend all night smelling her.
"Holmes." Sherlock jumped, too lost in his thoughts to hear the familiar steps behind him. "Are you about ready?" "Yes Watson, I believe I am."
Sherlock's best friend, John Watson, walked up beside him and together they stared at Sherlock wearing a black trousers and dress coat, a white waistcoat, and a white cravat. Sherlock fiddled with his cravat. John sighed, "Here," John took off the cravat and put on a dark blue scarf with white dots, "Ellendea is rather fond of it."
"Yes…" Sherlock said absentmindedly. After today she would be Mrs. Sherlock Holmes, and he would be a happily married man.
"She's perfect for you." John patted his friends shoulder before leaving the room. Sherlock just stood there and fiddled with his scarf, it felt tight on his neck, was this really what he wanted? To be tied down to such a lovely woman? Of course. Though Ellendea deserved the very best and Sherlock questioned his worth. A sigh escaped his lips.
They'd known each other for five months collectively, though the past month they'd been spending all their time together. Sherlock could still not figure this girl out, she seemed to bear two different personalities, one that was perfectly content just sitting on the roof watching the stars and another that demanded action. Sherlock had tried to deduce why these changes occurred, but they seemed almost random, and Sherlock did not believe in random. Ellendea was proving everything Sherlock believed in to be wrong, without ever speaking. Sherlock kept more images of her in his mind than any person or any case he'd ever been on, granted the memories of his roommate for they spent quite some time together. The next logical step, though there was nothing logical about it, was to ask her to marry him.
Sherlock finally understood Watson's dilemma just a year prior, finding the right ring was impossible. He searched through stores finding the ring that demanded to be on Ellendea's finger. Finally he found it at Madison and Haig, a smile had appeared on Sherlock's face when his eyes lay upon a platinum ring with a small round aquamarine stone, it was perfect. Sherlock, ring in pocket, made a mad dash to Ellendea's house, he pounded on the door and was greeted by Ellendea's father, a well respected novelist.
"Mister Blackburn," Sherlock gasped, "may I speak with you?"
"My daughter is studying right now." Mister Blackburn said.
"Yes, I know, I wish to speak to you." Sherlock tried to regain his composure.
"You may." Mister Blackburn lead Sherlock into the parlor room. Sherlock continued to be amazed at how much the place smelled like Ellendea, the fresh scent with the smells of baking mixed in.
"Sir," Sherlock said after they had been seated, "I…" Were the words really about to come from his mouth? "I wish to marry your daughter."
There was a tap on the door and Sherlock turned to find his bride-to-be standing in the doorway, she wore a simple wedding dress, made of a sheer material that felt straight down her body, yet somehow she looked more amazing than Sherlock could ever believe. Maybe it was to due to the fact that in a matter of minutes she would be his and he would be hers. In three long strides Sherlock reached Ellendea and wrapped her into his arms, with his nose buried into the crook of her neck, the curls of her hair caressing her face, he knew he was complete.
"It's bad luck to see the bride in her wedding dress." Sherlock murmured as he breathed in her scent of comfort.
"And you, sir, don't believe in luck." Ellendea replied before pulling away and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'm glad your wearing your scarf, it's the one you wore on our first date." Sherlock remembered, it was the only clean thing he had at the time. She buried her face in his chest, "I'm nervous Sherlock."
"Don't be." Sherlock said, "It's irrational to be nervous. All we are about to do is officially, for the world, proclaim our undying love for one another."
Ellendea smiled, "You speak so calmly, like you've done this a thousand times before."
"I have not." Sherlock said harshly before regaining his composure, "You are my first and only love."
They shared a quick kiss before Watson entered the room. "Oh, Ellendea, there you are, we're about ready to start…" He paused, "You do realize it's bad l-… you don't believe in luck either, alright, Holmes let's go." Watson rushed Holmes out the door, Ellendea giggled, he was a mother hen. Watson turned to Ellendea finally and placed a hand on her cheek, he'd grown use to her presence as she was always with Holmes, he grew to think of her as a little sister, and he planned to protect her any way possible. "You look gorgeous Miss Blackburn."
"I do believe you are going to be the last person to ever call me by that name." Ellendea stated.
"I believe so." Watson said, "Are you ready? MacKenzie is waiting." The braid's maid, Ellendea's best friend.
"Yes, I'm ready." Watson took note of her shaking hands and took them before planting a kiss on her cheek. Ellendea looked up at him and brashly kissed his lips. They stared at one another in shock, a married man and a soon to be married woman. "I'm sorry John."
"It's quite alright Ellen." Watson replied, "Let us go."
Ellendea's face turned bright red as she and Watson left the room together. Nervousness pulled over her body, her mind didn't believe she was about to be married, to Sherlock Holmes' no less. Her father arrived, looking a little teary eyed and gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek before they prepared for their walk down the isle. Even though the audience would be fairly scarce; her parents, Watson and his wife, MacKenzie, Sherlock, herself, and the priest, she was still nervous. She worried her foot would catch on her dress or it would rip or she'd stutter and not say her vows right or he'd say no or or or.
"It'll be alright." Her father squeezed her hands and they enter the small room and walk down the small isle. Ellendea's heart was hammering. Her cheeks flushed when all eyes looked at her, she found strength as she stared into Sherlock's chocolate eyes. Her father kissed her cheek and whispered his love into her ear before he took his seat next to his wife. Ellendea's hands were encased in Sherlock's warm ones. The priest began his speech, Sherlock found strength in Ellendea's eyes as they stared at one another.
"Do you, Ellendea, take this man to be your husband?"
"Do you, Sherlock, take this woman to be your wife?"
"I do." Sherlock said surely despite his head telling him marriage was illogical and it would get in the way of his work.
"Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Sherlock smiled because, for the first time, he was able to kiss Ellendea Holmes, his wife. Their lips met gently for the first time. Sherlock, illogically, loved every moment their lips were in contact, he loved how soft they were, and how he could practically taste the flour and sugar on her lips. "May I be the first to present to you, Mister and Misses Sherlock Holmes." Everyone in attendance clapped as the two newlyweds clasped hands with the largest smiles anybody had ever seen.
Hugs, kisses, and congratulations were passed around the new couple. As the couple prepared to leave for their first night alone Sherlock pulled Ellendea into a hug and leaned close to her ear to whisper words he's longed to say. "I love you."
She smiled and Sherlock watched her eyes sparkle as she said, "I love you too." Holmes leaned down and gave her another kiss, this time much longer and with more passion behind it. As irrational as marriage seemed to Holmes he liked knowing that Ellendea was his and only his and vice versa. Now he could spend the rest of his life figuring out the greatest mystery of all; Ellendea.