Chapter 17

'It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important'
Arthur Conan Doyle

As things turned out Harriet had nothing to worry about as she met Sherlock's mother for the second first time and his father. She found them to be surprisingly normal whereas Sherlock found them to be incredibly dull. Harriet was sure that she saw a touch of pink bloom on his sharp cheek bones when his mother gave him a bone crushing hug and a kiss on the cheek. She had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. Sherlock caught her eye and rolled his behind his mother's back.

"You really should have introduced us sooner," his mother chastised, "This is a really charming home, Harriet dear. Doesn't it remind you of our first home?" Sherlock's mother asked her husband.

"Oh yes, a wonderful home-"

"I've booked you into the b&b near the church, are your bags in the car?" Sherlock cut across his father.

"Sherlock!" Harriet scolded his rudeness even if she did find his desperate attempts to get rid of his parents amusing.

"My dear boy, it can wait a while. We're just getting to know this lovely lady," Sherlock's father had no intention of moving just yet. It was at that moment that the shrill of the doorbell filled the room. Much to both Harriet's dread and Sherlock's delight the vicar had arrived. Harriet wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. She didn't know the first thing about being religious. The only time she went to church was christening, weddings or funerals something there had been a lot of in the last few years.

Harriet got up to greet the vicar. At the door she turned back to Sherlock who'd followed her from the room, "Behave," she waved a finger at him and opened the door before he could reply.

"Mr Roundhay," Sherlock greeted putting on the charm front, "good to see you again. This is my fiancé Harriet Thornton."

"Nice to meet you," Harriet shook the vicar's hand, "It is so good of you to fit us in at the last minute. Can I get you a drink?"

"Tea would be lovely. Just milk please," the vicar replied. Keen to give a good impression Harriet disappeared into the kitchen to make tea. She popped her head into the living room to get Sherlock's parents a drink. Whilst the kettle boiled Harriet leant against the kitchen cupboard and rubbed her temples. This was all completely and utterly ridiculous. She should march out of the kitchen and call Sherlock on his games and put an end to it all.

-x-

It ended up being a very interesting morning with the vicar, Sherlock's parents and her own mother turning up. Harriet was more than relieved when Mary announced she booked an overnight stay in a spa for the pair of them as a mini hen do for the following day. The history teacher put up a small protest about having things to organise for the wedding at which point Mary argued her case for letting Sherlock suffer through it for his sins besides Mrs Hudson would be arriving soon and she would most definitely keep him and John in order.

Once at the spa Mary cracked open a bottle of champagne after an afternoon of pampering and between the two of them they went down to dinner in the hotel restaurant slightly tipsy. In a fit giggles they finished their meal with cocktails in the bar before calling it a night. As Mary had her turn in the bathroom of their shared twin room Harriet pulled out her phone and committed the most heinous of crimes: a drunk text.

Haaaadd sexx on beach htx

I'm not talking to you when you are drunk. SH.

I cann sing my txts hh soon. Ht.

Go to bed. SH.

And drink lots of water. SH.

Mary settled into bed and checked her phone before bed and smiled when she saw a text from John asking if they'd had a good night and that he missed her. What she didn't expect was a text from Sherlock. The contents of which made her chuckle.

"Your husband to be wants me to put you to bed," Harriet was just falling asleep when Mary spoke, "And confiscate your phone." Reluctantly Harriet handed over her phone and on wobbly feet headed for the bathroom. Needless to say that Harriet had a spectacular hangover the following morning.

-x-

"Everything alright?" John asked his friend in the village pub. After visiting the crime scene again where Sherlock kicked over a plant pot of water and spent far too long looking at ash in the fire place John had insisted they head to the pub for what the ex-army doctor was insisting was a stag do with Mycroft and Lestrade. Sherlock looked up from his phone, "Just you're staring at that thing as if it's going to burst into flames at any minute."

"Whatever happened to those people happened right after Tregennis left. They hadn't moved and everything was in the same place. There was a footprint," Sherlock rattled off the case details ignoring John's question.

John downed the rest of his drink, "Leave the case for one night."

"Aren't you going to ask me how I know there's a footprint?" Sherlock looked a bit put out.

"Go on then, I'll bite," Lestrade sat further forward in his seat. He was always amazed by Sherlock's theories.

With a sideways glance at John Sherlock begun his explanation, "It's simple really. When I knocked over that water I was able to gain a sample of the footprint proving that Mortimer Tregennis returned to the vicarage."

"If it is so simple then why did I have drag your sorry arse from our hotel room earlier?" John bit back still annoyed that Sherlock had nearly killed them both.

"Because John, my brother, despite having one of the best minds in the country can be incredibly single minded when in pursuit of answers," Mycroft swirled his brandy before continuing, "in pursuit of proving that he is always right."

"Radix pedis diabolic or Devil's-foot root. It vaporises with heat as proved by putting it on the radiator in the bedroom. Of course the results aren't nearly as potent as when put onto a fire," Sherlock continued to explain.

"Shame you didn't have one of those to hand," Lestrade chipped in.

John went to pick up his pint before remembering that it was empty, "So it's the vicar then?"

Sherlock's phone vibrated in his palm again. He unlocked the screen with a swish of his finger and read the text. "Our future wives are drunk," he answered.

"Really?" Lestrade asked in disbelief, "It's only half nine."

"Why are you here?" Sherlock answered rudely. John kicked him swiftly under the table or rather he tried to.

When Sherlock made no acknowledgement but Mycroft grimaced John feigned innocence and got to his feet. "My round. Same again?" he wove his way through the crowds to the bar putting in their order and ordering himself a swift shot of whisky to help him survive the evening.

When John got back to the table juggling four pints Sherlock was typing away on his phone, "Marry is putting Harriet to bed."

"Should I be worried that you are texting my fiancée?" John laughed knowing it was innocent.

"Please John, I'm amazed that Sherlock has even taken a fancy to one woman let alone two," Mycroft picked up the pint with a slight look of disgust. At least it wasn't lager.

Sherlock slipped his phone into the pocket of his trousers, "At least I've got myself a woman. Oh sorry, my mistake, I forgot about your new personal trainer. Trisha isn't it?"

Mycroft smiled tersely ready with a scathing reply when Lestrade beat him to it anticipating the Holmes massacre that was about to take place, "How about a game of pool?"

-x-

In a matter of days the wedding was upon Sherlock and Harriet. Harriet had her dress hanging up on the back of her bedroom door amazed that it had remained hidden from Sherlock in Mrs Hudson's hotel room. As for Sherlock, well, Harriet just hoped he was at least going to put on a different suit more suited to a wedding not that she didn't appreciate his normal choice of attire.

With Mary, her mother, Mrs Hudson and Sherlock's own mother on hand Harriet really had nothing to worry about. That was until a piece of lace separated from her dress leaving Harriet ready to say sod it all and storm out. Mrs Hudson was on hand with a needle and thread to put it back together as good as new and when Mary burnt her finger on the curling wand her mother was able to carry on curling Harriet's hair whilst Sherlock's mother saw to Mary's burn 'having spent years patching up Sherlock as a kid.' With only the dress left to put on Harriet spared one more fleeting thought to her husband to be in the form a quick text.

If you are not at that church on time there will be trouble. HT x

-x-

"Sherlock!" John caught up with his friend at the vicarage, "We're going to be late. You're getting married in forty-five minutes. Tregennis can…oh!"

"Thank you John, I'm fully aware of my impending nuptials," Sherlock answered as he sent a text to his wife to be.

Already here. SH.

"Dead?" John stared down at the lifeless body.

"Yes John."

John let out a breath of air he'd been on holding, "The wedding! This has gone on long enough you need to go to Harriet and tell her everything. Now!"

Sherlock brushed off his friends comments, "I'll see her at the church. Tregennis killed his siblings but who killed him?"

"Sherlock?" John went for the tone of voice he knew would get Sherlock's attention, "If you don't tell Harriet the truth she will never forgive you. Forget all this. Call the police and go to the church," It was with relief that John followed his friend from the vicarage and down the drive. However, it was a short lived relief for at the end of the drive instead of turning right for the church Sherlock turned left and strode purposefully through the small village. "Sherlock!"

"Sterndale. The cousin. The fisherman. Devil's-foot root is African. I think we will find that Sterndale has spent some time in Africa recently," John had no choice but to go with the consultant detective down to the small harbour.

-x-

"Oh Harriet! You look beautiful," her mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, her wedding day was apparently worthy of such a thing, "It would mean the world to be if you would wear this." Harriet's mother pulled out a rather tired looking box from her clutch bag to match her wedding outfit. Recognising the box immediately from watching her mother get ready as a child Harriet carefully took hold of it and with a trembling hand she opened it to reveal the bracelet that had been her mother's prize possession all her life.

"Mum," Harriet tried desperately to blink back her tears.

"Don't cry!" Mary scolded, "I spent ages doing your make-up."

"Your father gave this to me the week before our wedding. I know without a doubt he would want you to have it. You'll have a part of him with you when you walk down the aisle," that did it for Harriet as large round tears slipped down her cheek.

"Right that's it!" Marry pushed her down onto the chair they'd bought up for hair and make-up, "start smiling and sit still."

-x-

"Sterndale!" Sherlock bellowed to the man at the end of the dock. John and Sherlock raced the length of the harbour wall and stopped as Sterndale pulled the rope from the dock ready to set sale.

"I ain't coming back," he spoke without looking up from his task. Before John could realise what his friend was going to do Sherlock had leapt down from the harbour wall and into the boat that rocked gently with the swell of the sea. John followed suit praying to the gods that neither of them ended up in the drink. That really would finish the day off nicely.

"It was you who killed Tregennis. Spent time in Africa recently have we?" Sherlock straightened his button hole as he spoke.

"An' I'd do it agen," Sterndale replied in his heavy Cornish accent, "It weren't right, what 'e did to Brenda."

"The sister?" John asked.

Sterndale threw down the heavy rope onto the battered wooden boards of the boat, "Zackley! I loved her!"

"Come on John," the boat had yet to leave the harbour wall and with a big enough step it was easy for Sherlock to reach for the ladder and step up off the boat.

"Wait a second, you can't just let him go," John looked backwards and forwards between the murdering cousin and the infuriating consultant detective.

Sherlock cleared the ladder and looked down on the criminal in the boat, "If I was you I would go back to Africa and stay there." With that the consultant detective turned on his heel leaving John to follow him, "Come along John we have a church to get to."

I really am sorry for how long this has taken but I had a dead laptop and just couldn't bring myself to write the chapter again till now. If anyone is still reading this then thank you!