Glass: Reader Requests

Father of the Bride

For  devilishdaddario

Sherlock stood alone in the study with a small cluster of flowers in his hand. He glanced out the window as the sun melted into the room like butter, took a breath and sighed it out. He turned around, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass door - his dark hair was greying at his temples, the lines in his face deeper than he remembered.

He turned to his wife as she stepped into the room.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm old," he groaned.

Margaux laughed softly as she approached him, placing a hand on his face. "We're both old."

He shook his head. Her beauty had transcended age; it was only when she smiled that the fine lines around her eyes would show. He looked down at her dress.

"You look nice," he said.

"So do you." She took the flowers from his hand and undid the pin. "Here, let me..."

He waited quietly as she attached it to his suit jacket.

She patted her hand on his chest and smiled. "There you go."

He leant down and kissed her, before a tap on the door caught their attention.

Flora stood in the doorway with a nervous a smile. She brushed her hands over her hips and shrugged.

"What do you think?" she asked.

She was the perfect mix of her mother and father; full lips, bright blue eyes and dark, wavy hair cut just below her ears. She had a soft voice, yet her tongue was sharp, allowing her to outwit anyone who tried to challenge her. She stood in front of her parents wearing her mother's wedding dress, her short hair decorated with delicate flowers.

Margaux covered her mouth and gave a nod. "You look beautiful."

Flora smiled before looking up at her father. "Dad?"

Sherlock cleared his throat and gave a gentle nod.

"The cars'll be here in a minute," said Margaux as she walked up to her daughter and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll give you both a minute."

The glass doors closed behind them, enclosing them in the warm, bright study. Flora laughed softly, placing her hands behind her back - another trait she had inherited from him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. "I know you're not the biggest fan of weddings..."

"That's not true." He pondered for a moment. "I didn't mind my own." He smiled as he watched her laugh. "You look like your mother."

She took a deep breath, glancing down at herself in the pearly white lace. "If only."

"You do. You look beautiful."

They stood quietly for a moment before Flora moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest as if she were a little girl again.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"What for?"

"For being so supportive of me. I've seen how hard it's been for Shannon, having parents that don't approve. I don't think I've ever told you how grateful I am, that I never once had to worry about you and mum disowning me."

He closed his eyes for a moment, holding her a little tighter as he began to speak. "I never wanted to love someone. In fact, I went a very long time actively avoiding it. But when I met your mother, I realised love was not something I could choose to do or not do. No one can. That's why we call it falling in love, not jumping."