"It comes and goes in waves, I
Am only led to wonder why
It comes in goes in waves, I
Am only led to wonder why
Why I, why I try"

-Comes and Goes by Greg Laswell

"So when exactly did you get here?"

My mom and I were sitting at one of the small patio tables outside Speedy's, sharing a sandwich and catching up.

"I got in yesterday around noon. I'm staying at this really fancy hotel that your fiancé's brother set me up in. The twins are with me too! They're back at the suite right now with a nanny."

I smiled at her and swallowed hard, then reached across the table and grabbed her hands.

She looked up at me with concern. "Is everything alright sweetheart?"

I sighed and fought back tears. "Mom, I am so, so sorry about everything. I haven't kept in touch like I promised and I left you out of so much and I've just not known what to say and-"

"Shh oh honey," she squeezed my hands, rubbing her thumbs over them, "relax, it's okay! Sherlock informed me of everything!"

I looked up at her face. "He did? What did he tell you?"

She looked me hard in the eye. "Everything dear. I know everything you've been through. If anyone should be feeling sorry it should me. I've felt like the worst mother ever."

"No mom please, don't. You've done nothing wrong." We took a moment to just smile at each other, feeling thankful for the other's presence. "But, I was wondering, could you tell me exactly what Sherlock's told you?"

She chuckled a little and let go of my hands, getting herself comfortable. "Well, let me think. I believe the first time he contacted me was a year ago-"

I sat up straight "Wait a year ago?! Why?!"

"Hmm you know what? It was a year ago! Almost EXACTLY a year ago! How funny is that?!"

"Mom! Sherlock! Why did he contact you?!"

She met my eyes as her smile fell from her face. "It was after you 'ran away' to be with Mortimer or whatever his name was."

"Moriarty?"

"Yes that one. I came home from work one day with a message on my machine from a Sherlock Holmes, asking me to call back as soon as possible. I thought it was a wrong number at first, but the accent convinced me otherwise. I knew it had to be something to do with you." She sighed and looked down. "That was the scariest night of my life. He asked me if I had heard from you at all. I told him no, but I demanded to know what was going on. It was obvious from his voice he was frantic, and of course I imagined the worse.

"He agreed to video chat me later on that evening. He explained the whole thing, from the very beginning. He told me the brochure you showed me was fake, and that you knew the truth. He also told me everything about Moriarty, and to watch out for people that could be associated with him. Even after he informed me on everything there was to inform me on, I was still so desperate for answers. I was so angry. With him. With you. With this Moriarty character. With all of London. With myself even. You were missing from me. My only daughter was missing in damn England, tied up with a group of criminals, and there was nothing I could do."

My heart broke as I heard my mother tell me the side of the story I never knew existed. "Mom…I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

She looked at me with tired eyes. "For months, I paced by the phone, waiting on a call to let me know they had found you. Then one day, I got the call. But it wasn't the happy call I had been expecting. It was a call to tell me you were found shot in an alleyway behind a strip-club. You were in a coma, but you were at least stable. I begged and begged them to fly me out to see you, but they wouldn't let me until they knew whether or not you'd actually be able to pull through. A week or so later I got a call saying you were conscious and that you would be alright.

"I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear it, but I still didn't feel completely at ease. I continued to beg and plead to let me come see you, but because of the still heightened risk that our safety would be compromised, they refused to let me. I called Sherlock on so many different occasions, yelling and screaming and telling him how unfair this was and how terrible a person he was to let this happen to my baby. And what did he do? He took it. He took my verbal abuse. And not only did he do that, but he called me every few days to update me on how you were doing. This went on for weeks, maybe even months. Soon the updates stopped coming in, and last I'd heard from him he said you were completely healthy and had a full recovery. That is until two days ago." She looked down and laughed a little, shaking her head.

I furrowed my brow, confused. "Two days ago?"

She smiled. "I had just made breakfast and was sitting at the table when I got a call from him. I picked up and said 'hello?' He responded with 'how would you feel about me marrying your daughter?'" She started laughing. "I spit my coffee EVERYWHERE. I started choking some and before I could even speak he began rattling off that it wasn't a real marriage and that it was for a mission but that he still believed I should be there for it. I obviously was not happy at first, but after some explaining I realized that it was going to happen whether I approved or not, so I gave him my blessing and he gave me ticket information to fly out here. And he told me he wanted it to be a surprise, so to not tell you."

I stared at my mother, shocked. "He actually did all that?"

"Yes, he did. He realized how short notice it was but he wanted me here for your birthday."

"No, I mean, he actually called you when I had run away? And he updated you when I had returned?"

She gave me a soft smile. "Yes sweetheart. He did a pretty good job too. I felt so much better knowing you were in his hands. He's the only person I believed I could trust."

My heart fluttered nervously. I looked down, unsure of what to say.

"He cares about you Eve- er, Azalea."

My head flew up. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. That man feels for you. Do you not see that?"

I sighed. "Some days I think I do. Some days I'm convinced otherwise." I stared at my twiddling thumbs.

I could hear my mom shuffling in her chair uncomfortably, building the courage to speak. "Azalea…you do know you can talk to me. I'm your mother, not a pawn in this crazy group of spies or secret agents or whatever this is you're involved in. Even though you are part of some super-secret mission, even though I have to call you by a different name, even though you haven't lived with me in years now, you can still trust me. I'm outside of all this craziness. I'm not part of the façade. You can talk to me."

I nodded. "I know mom. I do trust you. And I'm thankful for it."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

I swallowed hard as the tears reached the surface. My throat began to close, and I knew the moment I spoke I would lose it.

My mom beat me to it. "It's Sherlock isn't it."

I nodded again as the tears started to gush. My throat opened just enough to allow my pitiful sobs through. My mom brought her chair around next to me and began comforting me as I released my stifled cries into my hands.

"Shh sweetheart it's okay. It's alright. I knew there was a lot more to you two than I had originally thought."

I tried for a breath as I attempted to speak. "I don't know what to do mom. I really honestly don't. I'm so confused."

She petted my head. "It's alright sweetheart I understand. Just take a deep breath and relax. Tell me what's going on in that heart of yours."

Calmly I took a few deep breaths, feeling the slight anxiety melt away. "I don't know what Sherlock means to me. And I don't know what I mean to him. According to the world around me he's a robot that doesn't have feelings. But over the past year or so there have been instances that tell me otherwise. He'll act like I'm a burden, then turn around and act like I'm his high school crush. He says rude things to me, then tells me I'm special to him. It's so confusing. And I don't know what to think. I don't know how he feels about me."

My mom rubbed my back. "And what about you?"

I turned my head to her. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know how he feels about you. Well how do you feel about him?"

I looked back down and sighed. "I'm not sure I know that either. Sometimes I look at him and my heart flutters. Some days I see a man who I wouldn't mind getting closer to, or even, maybe, spend my life with. But then there are moments where I resent ever getting to know him. There are times where I hate him more than I've ever hated anyone else. I can never for a second allow myself to settle with him. And it makes me afraid to give him any more of myself than I already have."

My mom thought for a moment before speaking. "Well, sounds to me like you're in love kiddo."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "Why do people keep saying that?!"

"You mean I'm not the first?"

"No! Mrs. Hudson has hinted to it once or twice, and when I asked John where I went wrong he said 'when you fell in love with Sherlock Holmes'."

"Hmm. Looks like maybe the only people who don't see it are you and Sherlock."

I glared at the table and shook my head. "Well, whether or not that's true, I don't want Sherlock to see anything."

My mom stared at me. "You do realize you're about to marry him right?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I do. And I think that's what gets me the most."

"Explain."

"Well, say I do have feelings for Sherlock-"

"You do."

"Hush mom. Anyways, say I do. And say I wouldn't mind maybe one day marrying him. And say maybe in my young girly mind I've imagined myself marrying him. Seems like the fact I really am marrying him would appear to be a dream come true. Only it's not. We're marrying under false pretenses, and in my childish imagination we get married because we're in love. Meaning we BOTH share feelings. But that's not the case. Maybe I feel a little something for him. And hey, maybe he feels a little something for me. But that's not why we're getting married. We're getting married for business reasons. He even said we're just going to get a divorce after he finds what he needs." I sighed. "I'm about to marry someone that's never said 'I love you', and that I've never said it back to."

My mom wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me against her. "Don't worry sweetie. Everything will work out. And if you find that things just aren't what you hoped them to be, there's always the divorce. Though I doubt that will happen."

I laughed. "It'll definitely happen. Sherlock doesn't do commitment. He couldn't even commit to staying dead."

My mom gave me a confused look, which made me laugh even more. Words could not describe how happy I was that she was here. It was turning out to be one of the best birthdays ever.

Saying that time flew by is an understatement. Time soared. Time skyrocketed by, threatening to be missed in a single blink. I stood and stared at the calendar on my wall, counting for the fourth time in a row how many days until my wedding. The answer was the same as the first three: ten.

Ten days.

I pulled my eyes away, my stomach contents threatening to reveal itself before I had even eaten breakfast. Quickly I made my way out of my room and ran upstairs. I was pleasantly surprised to find John and Marty cooking eggs and bacon, Sherlock in his sleep clothes reading the paper in his chair, and my mom at the desk on her computer. The weather outside was bright and warm, so the windows were open, letting in fresh air. I entered cautiously, afraid to break such a fragile and picturesque scene.

"Good morning, dear." Sherlock barely looked up from his paper.

My mom's head shot up as she closed her laptop and got up to hug me. "Good morning princess!"

I accepted the hug, confused. "Um, good morning? Can someone please explain what is going on?"

"What do you mean sweetheart? Nothing's going on."

"My mornings aren't typically so…pristine?"

"Well maybe it's just a good morning! I came over to help with wedding stuff, but soon realized I had no idea what to do, so I decided to hang around for a bit with the boys until you woke up. Then Mrs. Hudson called, asking if I wanted to go shop a bit with her. So now I'm just waiting for her to be ready."

I narrowed my eyes at my mom. Something seemed off. I shifted my gaze to Sherlock, who was cautiously watching my mom and me out of the corner of his eye. He knew I was smarter than that.

I smirked evilly as an idea came to mind. "Aw that sounds fun! You know, if you just give me a minute I can get ready and join you-"

"No!" My mom's eyes got wide as she interrupted me. "I mean…why do that when these boys are cooking up a lovely breakfast to eat? I've already eaten so I'm fueled ready to go. You just need to sit back and relax my girl."

"Well if you insist…" I walked over to John's chair and sat, pulling my legs up under me. Sherlock shifted his eyes and met mine. He spoke lowly.

"Looks like I'm rubbing off on you."

"Gross."

He couldn't help but smirk just a tad at my response. I smiled at him, happy we were off to a good start for the day. Even after my birthday it took a couple weeks for me to feel normal around him again. And even then we still bickered constantly. Every other day was something new. Most times I argued with him simply because it had become the norm. Other times he truly would frustrate me, which led to awkward dinners and poor John being caught in the middle. I think the only reason John didn't leave and stay with Marty was because he was afraid we may do something drastic. I felt bad for burdening him with our behavior, but I was beyond thankful he was there.

Mrs. Hudson soon appeared in the doorway. "Good morning everyone!"

"Good morning Mrs. Hudson!" We all sounded like elementary school children greeting our teacher.

"How are you today Miss Azalea?"

"I'm doing well! And you?"

"Fine fine! I'm so happy it's such a lovely day!" She turned to my mom who was grabbing her purse. "Ready to go?"

"Yep!" She walked to where I was and kissed my forehead. "Bye sweetheart. I love you. Please remember to just sit back and relax for the day."

I smiled up at her. "Don't worry, I will. I love you too. You ladies don't have too much fun!"

I watched as my landlady and my mother left and hurried down the stairs. I grinned at the thought of them spending the day together. I shifted my eyes to Sherlock, who was back to reading his paper.

"They're not shopping are they?"

He didn't even look up. "Nope."

I thought for a moment. "Are they out planning my bachelorette party?"

"Part of it, yes. And here it's called a hen party. Bachelor parties are called stag parties."

"And will you being having a stag party?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately."

"Huh. What do you mean they're planning part of my bachel- I mean, hen party?"

"Your mom and Mrs. Hudson are planning the day time activities. Molly and Marty in charge of the night time activities."

"That makes sense."

John and Marty were now making their way to where I was, plates in hand.

"What is this?"

"It's breakfast dumbo!" I watched as John handed me a plate full of delicious breakfast food. There was a small pile of bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns, two sausage links, and two halves of a grilled tomato.

"And, because we know how you prefer cold drinks with hot meals, here is a cup of milk and a cup of Irish breakfast tea for when you're done. And a bottle of ketchup for your hash browns and eggs."

I stared between the two in disbelief. "Um, wow. Thanks guys. You didn't have to do this though?"

Marty set a napkin down on my leg. "We know, but we figured why not? Everyone has the day off, the weather is beautiful, and we're all here together, so let's have a nice breakfast!"

"Alrighty then…if you say so." I watched the couple carefully as they brought out a plate and drink for Sherlock as well, who didn't appear to be too amused by the action. Then they both grabbed their own plates and sat at the desk.

"Wait John give me a second and you can have your chair-"

"No no! No need to move, I have to get on my laptop over here anyways."

I narrowed my eyes, watching them sit and begin eating. Then I looked at Sherlock, who had grabbed his cup of tea and was sipping it as he read the paper. After a few seconds, I couldn't hold it in any more.

"Okay someone tell me what's going on."

Marty looked at me, mouth full of egg. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, you are all being way too nice today."

"Hey, what are you trying to say?"

"I'm not saying you're rude, I'm just saying something seems fishy."

Marty shrugged a little and got back to eating. I looked around some more, eyes landing on Sherlock.

"Sherlock."

His head lifted some. "Yes?"

"Tell me what's going on."

John turned around. "Azalea we told you there's nothing-"

"Your mum and Mrs. Hudson decided that you've been way too calm lately and think you're going to erupt sometime this week. They said you might turn into, oh what was the word? 'Bridezilla', I believe. They're afraid of you breaking apart in the days leading up to the wedding, so everyone agreed to take part in making sure you are relaxed, entertained, and stress-free."

"Was that really necessary Sherlock?!"

"John don't worry, its fine." Their eyes flicked over to me, slightly surprised.

"So you're not-"

"-upset? Of course not, why would I be? It's really awesome to know I have such amazing people who care so much about me. Even though I don't think it's necessary. I'm not going to become 'Bridezilla'. If it was my real wedding, maybe. But it's just a fake one that I honestly know nothing about other than the wedding party's attire. So I see no need to be stressed." I moved my eyes to Sherlock. I'm not sure how, but for some reason I could tell his mood had shifted. "Don't you agree, Sherlock?"

He inhaled deeply. "Yep. No need to stress over a fake wedding."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. We decided to all focus back on eating. I could feel Sherlock staring at me, but decided not to acknowledge it. The food was actually so incredibly delicious I don't think I could acknowledge anything else if I had to. I could feel my stomach stretching, begging me to stop. But my taste buds said otherwise, and in little time I had cleared most of the plate.

"My God that was fantastic. I need you guys to cook for me more often!"

John smiled as he took my plate and his to the kitchen. "Thank you, but it was more of Marty cooking and me just doing as he said."

"And you did a brilliant job of listening!" Marty purposefully bumped into John as he passed by. I loved when Marty and John playfully bantered. Why couldn't any of mine and Sherlock's bantering be playful? It was always hateful and aggravating. I looked across at Sherlock who appeared to be deep in thought. I still was getting a weird vibe from him, and decided to attempt to make small talk.

"So, Sherlock, did you all get your tuxes fitted and ordered?"

His expression didn't change one bit. "Yes we did."

I nodded. "Well good. I bet you all looked great. Did you match each of their bowties with the fabric swatches I gave you?"

"Yep."

"And the groomsmen are all in charcoal?"

"Yep."

"And you're in just black and white, correct?"

"Yep. And your dress has a train, correct?"

My jaw dropped and I froze.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"No, that doesn't mean…I'm not going to say either way."

"Doesn't matter now, you've already told me."

"No I haven't. Sherlock stop."

"And it's sleeveless, no doubt. Fuller at the bottom too."

"That's not fair, you can read me and tell when I'm lying!"

"Oh but I don't need you. I have other ways. In fact, I already have a good idea of what it looks like."

My muscles stiffened. "No you don't. You're lying."

"Am I?"

I inhaled sharply. "How would you know anything about my wedding dress hmm? What makes you so certain?"

"Well for one your body type narrows it down. Women with more apple shaped bodies tend to go with looser dresses or ones that only cinch in right below the breasts. You on the other hand carry most of your weight on your lower half, and you're more athletically built with curves. That plus the fact I see how you dress every day lets me know what parts you enjoy flaunting most."

"That could all mean nothing. My every day style may differ completely from my formalwear style."

"I agree. Which is why my biggest leads come from the magazines."

I furrowed my brow. "Magazines?"

"Yes, the magazines. If you really didn't want anyone to know what type dress you would choose then maybe you shouldn't have dog eared the pages with your favorite styles…"

I swallowed hard, realizing he was right. When going through the stacks of wedding magazines I flipped the corners down on all the pages that had pictures of dresses I liked the most.

"That's not fair Sherlock. How could you?"

"Oh please like it means anything. 'It's not even a real wedding'." He spit the last part out mockingly. His face was angry as he stood up and flew down the stairs.

"Sherlock? Where are you going? Where is he headed to?" John walked into the living area, looking at the doorway.

"I don't know, hopefully to Hell."

He turned around, wide eyed and confused. "Excuse me what? What's going on?"

"Nothing new, really. Just another fight."

"How did I miss it? I was just in here!"

I exhaled angrily out of my nose. "Yeah well he's becoming quite good at pissing me off in short amounts of time. I'm starting to believe he's made a game of it."

"Well this must be a new record; we weren't out of the room for two bloody minutes!"

I sat silently, trying to calm myself down. I know it wasn't the worst thing Sherlock's ever done, but having the groom not see the bride's dress before the wedding has ALWAYS been a big thing with me. Even when I was little I knew it was "wrong".

John walked over to me, squatting down at the corner of the chair. "What did he do this time?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, he was just being his normal self."

"That doesn't excuse him."

I paused a moment before speaking. "He was trying to deduce what my dress looked like."

John sighed. "Jesus Sherlock…"

"He kept mentioning different styles and accents to read my expressions and see if he was right. And then he said he looked through the wedding magazines and saw all the pages I marked with my favorite dresses."

John dropped his head. "I wish I could say I was surprised. He's such an ass-hat I swear…"

Now it was my turn to sigh. "It's whatever. I'm beyond pissed about it of course, but I don't even have the energy to be angry."

"Elaborate."

"It's just…lately, as you know, he and I have done nothing but bicker. He'll make a snide remark or I'll overreact to something he's said and it is just wearing me down John. I mean yeah, sometimes we have good, even great days. But sometimes those are the worse days, because I'm so afraid of the peace being ruined by another argument. I know they're silly and trivial things, but it's just the fact that I think he tries to start a fight. He wants to get a rouse out of me. And I've become exhausted from it."

John thought on it a moment before replying. "I can honestly say I know exactly how you feel."

I met his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes. I felt this way the first few months of us living together. It was a tad different, seeing that I was just his flatmate, not his fiancé. And he and I quickly developed a mutual respect, since I saved his life on multiple occasions just as he has saved mine. But yes, I was in your shoes at one point. It doesn't excuse it or make it okay, but know it's not just you."

I nodded a little. "I do feel a tad better knowing even you have gone through this. But I don't know, I just…" I looked up to meet John's stare. "…I'm marrying him in ten days. Ten days John. Yes it's a 'fake' wedding but we really are getting married, paperwork and all. That means after this stupid mission is over we'll have to go through the divorce process. I will have been married and divorced before the age of 24. And how is he going to act while we're married? Will he treat me any different? What about after we divorce? Is it going to change everything? Will our friendship or whatever the hell we have ever be the same after this? And, oh my God, how will I explain all this to my REAL husband in the future? I'll have to tell any man I seriously date that I've already been married and that it didn't even last a year! What will they think of me?! And I've just chosen the wedding dress of my dreams John! The PERFECT dress! And I'm wearing it to my FAKE wedding?! My real future wedding dress will pale in comparison to the one I have now! And I can't wear the same wedding dress again and-"

"Azalea!" John grabbed my shoulders. "Take a deep breath and calm down, you're panicking."

I did as he told me. "Sorry about that. Maybe my mom was right, I am going to unravel before the wedding."

"No, you're just stressed, which is normal. I wouldn't expect you to be any other way. Just think about the positives. You're always telling me and Sherlock and Marty that all the time. Focus on the good things. Yes it's a fake wedding. But because it's not your real dream wedding with your prince charming means you don't have to stress one bit about every little decoration or cost of flowers or cost of anything really. You've barely had to lift a finger for all this. So instead of thinking this is all bad with your dress being the only good, think of it as all good with your fiancé being the only bad. If that makes sense."

My heart lightened some and I smiled. "It does make sense. You're right John. Thank you, I needed that."

"Of course sweetheart. Just ignore the asshole and things will improve."

As he stood to walk away a thought hit me hard.

"John."

"What is it?"

"Do you know what I just realized?"

"No? What?"

"I'm taking that asshole's last name."

John made a face at me. "Oooh that does blow. Maybe you do have a reason to panic."

I threw a napkin at him as he grinned and ducked out of the way. I felt a lot better talking to him. New words of encouragement played through my mind.

Do not stress over Sherlock.

Do not stress over the wedding.

Do not stress at all.

Look at the positives.

Look at all the bright sides.

Ignore the negatives.

Ignore Sherlock.

Ignore Sherlock is exactly what I did, and soon enough it was my hen party weekend. I packed up and got in a cab with Marty, heading to the hotel we were staying in for the next two nights. My mom and Mrs. Hudson were already there, and Molly was to join us after she got off work.

"So! What do you want to do miss bride-to-be?"

My mom, Marty, and I were sitting out on the balcony, enjoying the pleasant weather.

I shrugged at my mom. "I don't know really. I think Marty mentioned having an itinerary?"

He smiled. "I do, but it's mainly for tomorrow's events. I was thinking maybe this evening we could shop around a little since we never come to this part of London, then go to eat somewhere fancy, grab some ice cream afterwards, and head back here? Tomorrow's plans start around eight, so I know you'll want to go to bed at a decent hour."

I laughed some at him. "Ha, a 'decent' hour. I think that sounds good to me. By the time we're done shopping Molly should be here and can meet us at dinner."

"Sounds like a plan!"

We all got ready and headed down and out to the street. The weather was perfect, so we didn't mind walking the whole time. There were more shops than we originally thought, so we were never bored. Marty and I would pick outfits for the other to try on, while my mom and Mrs. Hudson watched and gave us their opinions. Eventually it turned into a competition: whoever picked the best outfit would win that round, then we'd head to the next store and have another round, and so on and so forth. Whoever won the most rounds got to have the loser pay for their ice cream at the end of the night.

I definitely had underestimated Marty. I was a great fashion designer, but Marty turned out to be a pro. He would grab things that looked terrible on the hanger, and would put together pieces that didn't match at all. But the second I put it all on it transformed into some of the most amazing outfits. By the end of the day Marty had won. Which was fine with me, because I ended up buying some awesome new clothes I would have never considered before.

The rest of the night was surprisingly perfect. Molly met us before dinner, we ate at a very nice restaurant, I got to wear one of my many white dresses (apparently the bride-to-be must always wear white to wedding related events) (the dress I wore to dinner was a high-low satin beauty that my mom had bought for me back in the states), and we got gelato at a small shop just down the street from our hotel. (Yes I paid for Marty's.) After getting back to the hotel we went to our respective rooms, (Mrs. Hudson and my mom in one, Molly, Marty and I in another,) bathed, and got ready for bed.

While in bed I stared up at the ceiling, replaying the day's events in my head. It was so nice to just be with girls, (well, and Marty), and the day had been flawless. The shopping was fun, I bought new clothes, I got to get all dressed up for dinner, the food was absolutely delicious, the gelato was yummy, and even the weather was abnormally perfect. I wanted to smile big and bask in the evening's impeccable glory. But I found I couldn't. And what was most frustrating was I didn't know why I couldn't. I sighed, realizing show tired I was. I closed my eyes and welcomed the much needed sleep.

Alright alright alright I know I owe you all an explanation...

THIS chapter and future chapter 35 were supposed to be one chapter. I had planned it that way weeks ago. HOWEVER, as I wrote it all out, I was beginning to realize the chapter was growing to be almost double the size of normal chapters. So, on a whim (and by a whim I mean like five minutes ago) I decided to split the chapter up and post part of what I have. Which is why this chapter isn't at all exciting...it's sort of a filler to tide you over till I finish the other half of it. I PROMISE that other half will be finished very soon, seeing that it's already partially done.

Also, that means you all still have time to chose a wedding dress! You have this chapter, the chapter after this, and then one more chapter 'til the wedding! (Which means the wedding will be in chapter 37!) So you have PLENTY of time! There is currently a tie between dresses, so please please PLEASE send me your suggestions!

LAST AUTHORS NOTE: I'm not sure any of you have noticed, but I posted a new story last week...it's a oneshot Johnlock fic called "The Head and The Heart". Please, I encourage you all to read it, review it, and (if you deem it worthy) share it. I'm quickly learning that completed oneshot fanfics don't get many views because they aren't updated constantly, so I'm having troubles getting new readers.
I always hate asking for things like views, but I'm quite proud of it and want to share my first completed creation. (I feel like a mother wanting to share my baby with the world.)

As always, thank you all so much for sticking with me through this mess of a story, and thank you for all the reviews and kind words! They always cheer me up even on the worst of days. Love you all! xoxoxo