Only a handful of people attended the actual ceremony. The bride and groom, of course (despite the fact that there had been heavy betting on one or the other not showing up), John and Mary Watson as best man and matron of honor, and Sherlock's family. Mycroft seemed to take credit for the whole affair. When the officiant announced , "You may now kiss the bride," Sherlock bent to place a chaste kiss on his petite bride's lips. After all, those in attendance had not expected more. But, surprisingly, he then smiled at his wife, winked at his best man, and pulled Molly in for a rather longer than was completely proper snog. Mummy Holmes clapped in delight, and Mycroft slapped him on the back with an accompanying "Well done, little brother!" John and Mary looked at the couple, smiling in relief that they had finally found each other.

Easily half of the people gathered at Angelo's were convinced that the wedding would never take place, and that the reception would turn into a wake. When the bride and groom made it to the restaurant, some not insignificant wads of cash were passed from one hand to another as bets were settled. Greg Lestrade was the biggest beneficiary of these proceedings. He was a detective, after all, and had sometime ago deduced that these two were made for each other, and that each of them were clever enough to know it. Even if it had taken them a helluva long time to figure it for themselves.

As they entered the room all eyes, for once, were on Molly. She was no longer overshadowed by the man next to her, but seemed to bask in her own light. Her new husband looked down at her, and smiled, and bathed in her warmth, and marvelled that this day had come to pass. He could face anything if she was there.

"Breathe, Sherlock," Molly whispered, "You only have to be sociable for a couple of hours!" And with that, she took his hand and led him into a sea of well-wishers, one of the most terrifying things he had ever faced.

"Just don't let go, Molly, Never let go!"