[Log] for thewomanswit
Who: Sherlock Holmes & Irene Holmes :O (thewomanswit )
What: That's right - they really got hitched. So... now what?
When: After this.
Where: London, England
Verse: The Holmses Reside in Crackville
It was enough to make any witness speculate that Mr. Sherlock Holmes had taken every necessary precaution to rid his wedding ceremony of any stain of sentimentality. The only guests were the necessary witnesses: Mr. John Watson and Mrs. Hudson, as well as the officiating clergymen. Holmes had not bought or even borrowed a new suit for the occasion, but rather wore his second best - the one he typically saved for when he was asked to dine with royalty. There were no flowers, no tokens, no exchange of unnecessary vows - simply the most practical ceremony that could be designed. When the pronouncement was finally made, and he was instructed to kiss his bride, he'd presented her with nothing but a chaste press of his lips to the corner of hers, immediately securing his hand to the small of her back and turning her to face the two applauding bystanders. It had not gone unnoticed.
"Holmes," Watson had said strictly to him, in a low tone parodying a physician's concern, as they watched Irene being helped into the waiting carriage, "If I hear anything about you paying more heed to your chemistry set than to your wife tonight, I shall retroactively retract my services as your best man." Holmes had stared disapprovingly down his nose at Watson's cheeky half-smirk, but there was a flicker of real amusement in his eyes that offered the good doctor some small measure of relief - and some hope as well, for Irene's sake.
When she was safely inside, Holmes climbed in behind her, and shot Watson one last nod, before the door was shut upon them.
At last, it seemed, they were alone together.
Sherlock's reaction to the situation was to adjust his lapels and stare forward stolidly.
What: That's right - they really got hitched. So... now what?
When: After this.
Where: London, England
Verse: The Holmses Reside in Crackville
It was enough to make any witness speculate that Mr. Sherlock Holmes had taken every necessary precaution to rid his wedding ceremony of any stain of sentimentality. The only guests were the necessary witnesses: Mr. John Watson and Mrs. Hudson, as well as the officiating clergymen. Holmes had not bought or even borrowed a new suit for the occasion, but rather wore his second best - the one he typically saved for when he was asked to dine with royalty. There were no flowers, no tokens, no exchange of unnecessary vows - simply the most practical ceremony that could be designed. When the pronouncement was finally made, and he was instructed to kiss his bride, he'd presented her with nothing but a chaste press of his lips to the corner of hers, immediately securing his hand to the small of her back and turning her to face the two applauding bystanders. It had not gone unnoticed.
"Holmes," Watson had said strictly to him, in a low tone parodying a physician's concern, as they watched Irene being helped into the waiting carriage, "If I hear anything about you paying more heed to your chemistry set than to your wife tonight, I shall retroactively retract my services as your best man." Holmes had stared disapprovingly down his nose at Watson's cheeky half-smirk, but there was a flicker of real amusement in his eyes that offered the good doctor some small measure of relief - and some hope as well, for Irene's sake.
When she was safely inside, Holmes climbed in behind her, and shot Watson one last nod, before the door was shut upon them.
At last, it seemed, they were alone together.
Sherlock's reaction to the situation was to adjust his lapels and stare forward stolidly.