AN: Hello lovelys, as promised here is the little sequel to Favours and Family Ties, though if you haven't read it this could be read as a standalone. The usual disclaimers apply; I own nothing and intend no copyright etc.

Enjoy the story.

The Runaway Groom

"Not wanting to worry you, but is Sherlock at yours?" John asked on speakerphone.

'Is Sherlock at your's?' wouldn't usually be a worrying question to Molly, as since they'd been engaged they spent pretty much every night at one or the others. But the morning of their wedding, while a professional was putting the final touches to her hair and make-up, her bridesmaids (Mary and her sister, Megan) were struggling into their dresses, and John was at Sherlock's supposedly to help Sherlock with his final preparations and take him to the venue, it was more than a little unsettling.

"No. Is he not... I mean are you sure he's not... There? He's not hiding in his room, or up on the roof having a cheeky smoke or... Having breakfast with Mrs Hudson?"

"I'm standing in his bedroom right now, already been up the fire escape, and Mrs Hudson hadn't seen him this morning, thought he was still asleep. His morning tea hasn't been touched, so if he's left, it was before she got up. But uh... I wouldn't worry, he probably just nipped out.. Maybe to solve a two or something if he thought he had the time." John laughed weakly. He really was an open book, his placating words barely masking his own panic. "His suit seems to have gone with him, so doesn't look like he's planning to leave you at the alter or anything."

Molly couldn't help biting her glossed lip though, causing her make-up artist to tut and get the gloss back out. The problem was that Molly had already been worrying about something like this. Sherlock had been increasingly on edge the closer they got to the wedding, fretting over the smallest detail - like he had with John and Mary's, but worse. Molly had worried that it was too much for him, and it wasn't too big of a stretch to imagine himself throwing himself into the first case that come along as an excuse to miss it.

"John, shut up now." Molly heard Mary mutter to the phone, before giving her a sympathetic smile.

"Right well uh... You girls just carry on getting ready, and don't worry about a thing. I've got this." John answered, before hanging up the phone.

A few more frantic phone calls later and John, Mycroft, and Greg all stood around in Sherlock's living room, trying to figure out where the detective could have gone, while Mrs Hudson bustled around them, making tea and fretting quietly to herself.

"I swear, if he's got a case it didn't come from me. Even if we had something he'd be interested in at the Yard at the moment, I wouldn't tell him when he's about to get hitched." Greg insisted.

"I know you wouldn't" John reassured him "I can't find anything in his inbox or on his website that he'd be interested in either, not unless he was desperate."

"He is about to get married." Mycroft pointed out, looking entirely unsurprised by the turn of events. "At any rate, his internet records say he hasn't been on his computer since yesterday morning, and that was to peruse the Facebook pages of all the guests and staff, for the fifth time."

"Well after Jonathan Smalls you can't be too careful I guess." John grimaced, "Maybe someone came to the door wth a case?"

"Not that I heard, dear, and Sherlock never answers it for himself." Mrs Hudson chipped in, picking up Lestrade's empty cup the second he put it down.

"Well if he's not on a case, then he's probably got a bad case of the jitters and has gone to ground over it." The DI suggested.

"You're right, we need to start checking his bolt holes. Mycroft, you take Kew Gardens and the Leaning Tomb, Lestrade; Parliment Hill and Camden Lock, I'll take Dagmar Court and Leinster Gardens. If you haven't found him by 12:30 get to the wedding and hope someone else has."

Sherlock looked out over the city, letting the familiar view wash over him, trying to get his nerves under control.

As the wedding had grown closer and closer a completely irrational nervousness had grown in him. Completely irrational because he had nothing to fear; no one he cared about was in danger or under threat, there were no criminal masterminds currently active (mores the pity) and generally no physical threats to him at all. Not that such things usually made him nervous, of course.

So why was a simple wedding - really nothing more than a service, party and holiday - causing him so much anxiety? It wasn't Molly, he knew without a doubt that she was a perfectly suited partner for him. Enduring the boring social demands and traditions of the event was more of a mild annoyance than something to fear. But there was just something...

"They laughed at me when I told them you had a bolt hole up here, y'know? Said you must have been joking, but I knew better."

Sherlock turned at the familiar voice to see Mrs. Hudson, standing atop the stairs, looking only slightly out of breath from the climb.

"Why do you think I told you about it. I knew no one would believe it but you." Sherlock smirked. "Didn't think you'd ever follow me up here though, I'm surprised you made it up all those stairs."

"I'm not decrepit yet, young man." She gently scolded, coming closer and joining him on the further step where he sat, staring out through the clock face across the Thames. "My hip will probably complain in the morning though."

"I hear morphine is great for that. Shame you don't have any in your kitchen."

"My herbal soothers do me just fine, thank you." She didn't rise to his teasing, though shared a smile with him. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, admiring the view, until Mrs Hudson spoke up again, her tone motherly.

"What are you doing up here, Sherlock? Cold feet?"

"My socks are warm enough."

"Cheeky sod, that's not what I meant and you know it."

Sherlock smiled briefly in recognition of this, but it quickly faded into a thoughtful expression. He was quiet for so long, and Mrs. Hudson almost thought she wasn't going to get an honest answer, when he finally spoke up.

"You said marriage changes people Mrs. Hudson. What if I don't want to change? What if I like being me?"

His frank and sentimental answer shocked Mrs Hudson, knowing this was not the kind of thing he would talk to just anyone about. She guessed he was confiding in her about this for the same reason he did about Big Ben, but even still she needed to proceed with caution; he would just as soon clam up if she said the wrong thing.

"You'll still be you, dear. I don't think a force in the world could change that. You'll just be... More than you, I suppose, one half of a whole, Sherlock and Molly. You'll be planning for the two of you, which might be a bit difficult with the unusual hours you keep, but if anyone can make it work it's you."

"Mm. The chains of domesticity." Sherlock mused, though not with the disgust he might once have. More... melancholy perhaps, resigned.

"Not necessarily." The older woman tried to comfort him. "I don't think Molly is the kind of girl to cage a free spirit like you. That's why you love her."

"No, she wouldn't. At least not on purpose."

Mrs. Hudson sensed a very big 'but' at the end of that sentence, but didn't say anything, just waited.

"You haven't met my mother, have you?" Sherlock asked. At her head shake he continued "You will today. She's where we get our brilliance from, you know. Of course we outshone her quickly enough, she seems veritably stupid to me and my brother, but she is far smarter than most. A mathematician and scientist, she wrote a book on the dynamics of combustion, used to lecture at Oxford and was widely sought for her expertise. She could probably have got any job she liked, Mycroft even found some old files suggesting she was in talks with NASA at one point. And then she got pregnant. Gave up a promising career to be a stay at home mum and home school my brother and I." He shook his head, lost for words to describe how he felt about his mother's actions, and how they related to his current situation. Mrs. Hudson understood anyway.

"Well having children is... A big commitment. But a different one, and unless there's something you need to tell me, you're only getting married today."

"But it's a step in that direction! I'm sure Molly will want children, and neither of us are getting any younger. She's a doctor, she must know the statistics for the risk of complications when a mother is past prime birthing age, she won't want to wait much longer and -"

"Do your think your Mother regrets giving her career up for her children?" Mrs Hudson asked, cutting off his rant before he could work his way up to a full blown panic.

Sherlock's mouth snapped shut, and he turned away to stare out across the city once again. "She must do. Of course she would never let slip such a thing in front of me and my brother, in word or behaviour, but I can't imagine she wouldn't."

"So you haven't ever asked her?"

"I don't need to."

"I think you do." Mrs Hudson said, nodding to his phone on the step next to him with an expectant look. "Go on."

"What, now?" Sherlock asked in disbelief "I really don't think now's the time, she's probably getting ready for the wedding and -"

" - And no mother, especially one who did what she did, would turn away her son when he's in need of reassurance. Go on, or I'll just have to ask her at the wedding on your behalf."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her attempt at blackmail, but typed and sent the text anyway, showing her the screen as evidence.

Do you ever regret giving up your career for us? - SH

Mrs Hudson nodded her approval, smiling at the man in front of her. His fears and doubts barely touched his face, so practised he was at presenting an emotionless mask to the world. But she fancied she could see through it, just a little, and it made him look younger to her eyes.

"I remember when we first met, y'know. You just showed up at my door in Miami, fresh faced, not long out of rehab, with only three - "

"Four."

"Four cases under your belt, asking me all these questions about my husband's business, then telling me you'd make him see justice whether I liked it or not."

"Well I didn't expect you to actually want the old man dead." Sherlock smirked, remembering too.

"And then you were dashing about, examining everything, doing far more running than I'm sure was necessary. 'Crime waits for no man,' you said, and neither did you. You'd found more evidence in a week than the FBI found in months of investigating us, though nothing incriminating me, which I'm sure was no coincidence. And then you were gone as quickly as you came. When I look at you now, I see some things never change, but some certainly have in the time you've been under my roof. I don't think a little more change is anything to be afraid of."

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by his text alert. They both stared at the phone for a second, until with trembling hands Sherlock lifted it to read.

Not for a second.

His hands tightened on the phone, no longer shaking as he took a big breath and got to his feet.

"Well, we can't sit around here reminiscing all day, I have a wedding to get to."

Outside the doors to the hotel where the wedding was being held, the bride and her bridesmaids posed for pictures, with strained smiles.

"Five minutes left and he's still not here." Molly whispered through her teeth to Mary.

"He will be."

"But what if he's not. Or what if he's high?" Molly fretted, relieved when the (very carefully vetted) camera man left to take his place at the front of the hall.

"No, that's not going to happen. I know for a fact John made some very specific threats about what he'll to do him if he does that to you." Mary reassured her.

"Speaking of John, have you heard anything from him?"

"Not since you asked five minutes ago." Even as she said it, her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her bra to read it, at the same time a taxi pulled into the car park behind them.

If Molly still insists I don't see the dress before the ceremony, I suggest the bridal party relocates from the door. Ridiculous tradition. - SH

"Is that...?"

"In the taxi, yes. Toilet break?"

The ceremony was over, vows given, register signed ; they were officially husband and wife. Now all Sherlock had to get through was the reception, and the great amount of idle chatter that came with it. If it wasn't for the first dance he would have suggested skipping it altogether, as it was he was counting down in his head until the dance and the acceptable amount of time to stay after that. No one would mind the bride and groom leaving a little early, they'd just make suggestive comments about what they were up to and carry on enjoying the open bar.

"Molly!"

"Violet!"

His Mother rushed over, embracing his new bride like an old friend, when in fact they had only met twice. Though given that the first time was when they were both kidnapped together, he supposed a certain amount of bonding through adversity had occurred. Sherlock stood by, awkwardly, with his hands clasped behind his back in case she tried to hug him next.

"Oh you look so beautiful, Molly dear. And the ceremony! You make such an adorable couple, and the way he looks at you -"

"'He' is standing right here, Mummy."

Sherlock groused, particularly unimpressed to be called adorable under any circumstance.

" - like the sun doesn't shine unless you're in the room." She continued, ignoring him. "But that's hardly a surprise, especially given big news. When are you going to announce it? With the speeches?"

"What big news?" Molly asked, with a nervous chuckle and glance at Sherlock. His eyes were narrowed, wondering what she was getting at, his eyes widening in realisation a millisecond before his Mother spoke again.

"Well about the baby of course! Me and Father couldn't be happier, two new Holmes in one day!"

Molly's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, turning to stare at Sherlock for an explanation, while one confused hand came up to her stomach, even though there was no way she could be.

"No! Mummy that's not... Molly's not pregnant. We haven't even-"

"It's okay Sherlock, this is the 21st century, I don't care if you've been together before you got married -"

"We haven't, Sherlock wanted to wait. Why would you think I'm ..." Molly couldn't get the word out in her surprise.

"Oh. Then what was that text all about, Sherlock?" His Mother turned to ask him.

"I... Ask Mrs Hudson, it was her idea. She's over there by the fountain with the ridiculous hat." He turned his Mother with a hand on her shoulder, pointing her in his landlady's direction.

"Well aren't you going to come introduce us?" His Mother insisted.

"It's not rocket science, which apparently you're quite good at, I'm sure you can manage on your own." Sherlock brushed her off, turning his back on her to look down at Molly, who looked back with confusion-creased eyebrows, and a small smile at his antics. Seeing their need for a private moment, Violet Holmes questioned it no longer, making her way over to Mrs Hudson for answers.

"Care to explain?" Molly asked once she was gone.

"Not particularly."

Molly just raised an eyebrow, her smile not fading as she waited.

"I grew slightly... Overwhelmed this morning by all that was happening."

"That's why you ran off."

"I wasn't running off, I just needed space to think. The wedding came around quicker than I was expecting, and it got me thinking about... Other things that might come along." Sherlock explained.

"Children?" Molly guessed, to which Sherlock nodded, "Sherlock, I.. If you don't want children that's fine. This is more than I was ever expecting from you and... And it's all fine." She attempted to soothe him, shrugging with one shoulder. He really should warn her about her tells; that and her suddenly dropped eye contact were a big neon sign to him. Liar. He stooped a little more, lifting her chin with his hand so their faces were so close she couldn't not look at him.

"Molly. Some things about me will never change, but not everything. I am willing to make... Adjustments for you." He pulled out his phone, opening messages without looking and placing it in her hand. "I know I won't regret them."

Molly looked down at the phone and tears filled her eyes, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Looks like those grand-babies won't be long coming." Violet Holmes commented to Mrs Hudson.