Caring / Chapter 12 Mycroft x reader

It's the big day.

Most girls dream for their wedding to have a huge venue, hundreds of guests, and a large wedding party. All of it a display of grandeur. This was not one of those weddings. With a small attendance count, a peaceful outside ceremony, no bridesmaids, no groomsmen, seeing as how you mainly kept to yourself in London, and minimal attention, the wedding between Mycroft Holmes and you would be a minor thing.

He had even texted you the night before, asking if you had wanted to just run away and be wedded, then. Which you politely declined. You had put a lot of thought into the planning of the event and you weren't going to waste it.

Currently, you were sat down in front of a mirror as your mother busied about you with the final touch-ups. Your reflection stared back, a bride in a white gown, and the reality of what was about to happen settled in your heart. You were about to marry Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft Holmes was going to be your husband in just a few hours.

Your mother sighed, kissing your cheek. “You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. Your father would have been so proud..”

A smile broke through with a hint of sadness before you pulled your mother into a hug. “Thank you... I can't believe this is actually happening. We were just kids, mum. The three of us. And look at us now! Papa would never have believed it, either!”

She was about to comment when there was a knock on the door, Sherlock letting himself into the room. You swiftly stood up, the tool of the dress falling into place after you smoothed it down. The younger took his spot in front of you, smiling almost as much as you were.

“You look perfect.” You shushed him, lightly smacking him in the shoulder. He took both of your hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I mean it. And I would give a speech about 'if you hurt my brother', but I personally think it's the other way around. But please, take my brother far, far, far away from me. Thank you.”

The pair of you shared a laugh and a hug, returning back to your original positions. “It's time.”

Your mother gave you one last long hug before taking her seat out where the ceremony would be taking place. Sherlock hooked his arm through yours and tugged you closer to the door where you would wait for the signal.

“No need to be nervous,” he murmured after feeling your fingers dig into his arm. He could hear the distinct sounds of shushing coming from the other side of the door. “It'll be alright. You don't even have to pay attention to what's being said.”

You chuckled at him, nibbling at the inside of your cheek and staring at the door with a hesitant gaze. “Here we go.”

As Sherlock lead you down, you truthfully faded out as soon as you spotted Mycroft. He looked like a dream underneath that beautiful, yet simple, arch with the priest in the background. It was a familiar sight, though. His black jacket with waistcoat to match, as well as trousers, his simple bow-tie. Upon further inspection, you could see the ends of his jacket were a bit wrinkled around the wrists. You silently wondered if he had been fidgeting with his cuffs from nerves. He had done that exact same thing on many previous dates.

Mycroft's eyes never left your form, soaking in every inch and detail so that he might not forget. The way the white corset with the sweetheart neckline accentuated your curves wonderfully and the tool that cascaded down to the ground at your feet, just barely covering the toes of your shoes as you walked. It made his heart thump in his chest. And when you smiled at him, Mycroft's butterflies returned with a vengeance and he began to fiddle with his shirt cuff.

Sherlock stopped you both in front of Mycroft, loosening his grip on your arm so that you could pull away. Mycroft was quick to take your hands as you stood in front of him and Sherlock placed his one last kiss on your temple before he took his place off to the side.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight-”

You soon tuned him out as Sherlock had previous suggested, focus solely on the man in front of you. Your husband-to-be. He grinned, which you swiftly returned, squeezing his hands in an effort to keep from bouncing around in joy.

“If you would repeat after me.”

“What?” Your gaze snapped from Mycroft to the priest, your reaction getting a laugh from the crowd. Even your boys and the priest were laughing at you. “Right..”

“I, (F/L Name), take you, Mycroft Holmes, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

You nodded to yourself more than anyone and repeated his words after him. “To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

Next was Mycroft. You knew it was about to come to a close, your knees shaking in anticipation. This was it. This was about to be official. The rings were on the fingers. All he had to say was...

“I now pronounce you man and wi-”

There was a gun shot. Screams filled your ears and Mycroft was in your face, worry etched on his features and tears in his eyes as he pulled you close.

“Stay with me, (Name.) We're not going to lose you. Not now.”

You could distantly hear Sherlock barking out orders. The last thing you hear before the darkness took over was Mycroft's broken voice, “I love you. You need to stay with me...”

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Mycroft and Sherlock stood together at her gravestone. The beautiful (Name). It had been two weeks, but it felt like ages. The weight of her death had dragged down these boys and left nothing, but an empty shell of what once was.

“Caring is not an advantage,” came Mycroft's soft voice. Sherlock was quick to look at his brother. This had been the first thing he has said since her death. Even at the young girl's funeral, the man was relatively silent.

“What do you mean?”

“All it has done is darkened our lives. No good can come of it.”

Sherlock briefly glared at his elder brother before kneeling down in front of the stone with the name (Name) Holmes written eloquently across the front. His fingertips brushed over the name 'Holmes' with a sad smile. She would always be a Holmes to him. Always.

With a soft sigh, Sherlock raised up, patted his brother's shoulder and left him alone to grieve. Mycroft, despite wearing a suit, plopped down in the grass and sat directly in front of her stone.

“I still have not woken up from this horrid nightmare my family calls reality,” he placed his hand with the wedding band still on his finger over her name. “One day, we will meet again. But for now, I must watch over our boy, Sherlock..”

He stayed still, his hand still covering her name while he sat on the ground. And Mycroft did not move until he heard the faint sounds of others coming closer. He stood up, brushing off his trousers before turning on his heel.

“I will never forget you, (Name), my love.”