Seven Months Later

"How are you and John?" you ask, sitting down next to Mary on the couch.

"I don't know, honestly. He hasn't talked to me in weeks," Mary replies, closing her book.

"He won't even talk to Sherlock, probably because you, you know, shot him."

Mary's eyes widen. "(Y/N), I'm still so sorry-"

"Don't worry about it. Sherlock and I probably shouldn't have broken into Magnussen's office. But you are lucky that I didn't see you shoot him because if I knew it was you when you ran away, I would've killed you on the spot."

"It's scary how much you and Sherlock are alike."

"How so?" you question, wanting to see her views.

"When I saw Sherlock walk into the room, I knew you had to be with him and not far behind. I realized that if I shot him instead of waiting to shoot you, you wouldn't see my face, therefore not having a reason to leave his side. If I would've waited to shoot you, Sherlock would've made sure you were okay before getting John and immediately going after me to avenge what I did to you.

"See, in the same instances you both would have only gone after me if you saw who I was because you would want immediate revenge even if the other didn't die. But, assuming you got shot and Sherlock didn't see my face, he would've done what you did."

"I can see that," you say, nodding your head. "But when Sherlock woke up and said your name, I knew then that you did it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she questions.

"Because that's where Sherlock and I are different. I knew there had to be some explanation, even if it was a terrible one. I can see in your eyes how much you love John and shooting his best friend would definitely contradict the relationship."

"What do you think Sherlock would've done if your roles were reversed?"

"Honestly... I think he would have been very angry. He's not exactly good at reading emotions like I am, therefore assuming you were using John in a maniacal way," you answer.

"Are you saying you forgive me?"

You crack a smile. "I can't say I forgive you for shooting Sherlock, but I understand when lies need to be told. If anyone understands the need of wanting a new life, it's me."

"I can see why Sherlock loves you," Mary chuckles.

"Sometimes being understanding is more important than being right. Sometimes we need not a brilliant mind that speaks but a patient heart that listens. Not keen eyes that always see faults but open arms that accept. Not a finger that points out mistakes but gentle hands that lead."

"God, can I keep you?" Mary asks somewhat seriously. "I mean, I guess it takes someone as understanding and as kind-hearted as you to love someone like Sherlock. But then again, you guys have the same mind."

"We just work. Or we're both too messed up to be with anybody else," you joke.

"Never," Mary starts. "The type of relationship you guys have is so pure despite your whole high-function sociopath thing. You bring out the children in each other.

"Sherlock comes from a great family and had a wonderful childhood, but was cursed with a dark mind. You come from a dark background, but have a beautiful mind. You understand the horrors in each other, but the fact that you're both brilliant and weird doesn't hurt."

"It's amazing how it's almost been a year of us together. Feels like only yesterday I was purposely sending him off to ruin your engagement," you sigh wistfully.

"You did that on purpose?!" Mary exclaims.

"Of course. I kept tabs on John for those two years and I found him in a jewelry store, then the fancy restaurant gave it away. I thought it would be funny to see John beat up Sherlock. Does this make us even?"

Mary grins in realization. "I suppose."

"Good. Don't have to worry about Magnussen since he's in a maximum security prison, Sherlock and Mycroft are miserable being here, John has been listening to our whole conversation, and Mr. Holmes is baking cookies. All is well."

"He what?" Mary asks with wide eyes.

You stand as the door opens and John walks in. You saunter past his form and go into the kitchen where Mr. Holmes is taking the cookies out of the oven.

"Where did everyone go?" you ask.

"The boys went outside and their mother went to yell at them," he answers.

"Oh, okay," you say, starting to walk toward the door.

"Wait, (Y/N)," Mr. Holmes says, stopping you. "My wife and I want you to know that you're apart of this family. You're important, not only to Sherlock and Mycroft, but to us as well. We're grateful you convinced them to spend this Christmas with us."

You stare blankly at him before finding your voice. "I know they both love you guys and I don't want them to regret not spending more time with you in the future. I know that if I had parents like you guys I would visit them a lot."

Mr. Holmes walks over to hug you in a fatherly manner. "We know and we are so thankful for you entering into our boys' lives, especially Sherlock. God only knows where he would be if you weren't around."

You both pull away and you smile. "Thank you. I promise I'll always watch out for them."

Footsteps pad against the floor before Mrs. Holmes comes into view. "You better because otherwise I don't think either of them knows how to live without you anymore."

You go to deny it, but then you hear shouting outside. "I think you may be right."

You turn around and head to the door before swinging it open and seeing Mycroft march up the steps, giving you an odd look before going inside. Your eyes meet Sherlock's and you happily stroll over to him, slipping your arms in his coat and around his waist.

"What were you guys doing out here?" you ask.

"Having a brotherly chat," Sherlock replies.

"Yeah, I don't believe you," you say. "What were you two really talking about?"

"Business and how impressed he is about me actually being with someone for nearly a year."

"That's more like it." You nod before a thought strikes you. "Have you realized that it's because of Mycroft that we're together?"

"What?!" Sherlock says incredulously. "He didn't do anything."

"Oh, so you think it was a coincidence that he offered to pay me whatever I wanted to live in your flat until you got back. Someone he thought was just like you. Someone he knew you would get along with. Face it. Mycroft has always looked out for you and he even found you your first girlfriend."

Sherlock closes his eyes as it all dawns upon him. "Please do not mention this to him because I will never hear the end of it."

"I'm pretty sure he already knows. He's just too kind to rub it in your face," you point out.

"Mycroft? Kind?"

"Don't forget I've known him nearly six years now. My company is the only one he tolerates. I've seen the things he's done for people, especially you. You're just blind to it."

Sherlock sighs in defeat and presses his forehead against yours. "One day I'm going to have to thank him."

"Please record it," you joke, then see that annoying seriousness in his gaze. "What?"

"Has it been almost a year?" Sherlock questions.

"Two more months. Hopefully there's a little room in that big Mind Palace for me."

"There's not," Sherlock almost whispers and you're taken aback by that. "I don't need to store away information about you to remember it. It's like a reflex knowing the things I know about you. If I ever used my Mind Palace to remember anything from a little quirk to something you said under your breath, it would be such an insult to you."

You blink back the tears in your eyes. "I think that is the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

"I think it is, too," he replies. "But that's not it. (Y/N), you've been the greatest thing to ever happen to me. Everything I want to say, I've told you before because I want you to know that I will always love you and be there for you.

"I love that we don't fight, I love that our relationship is always laidback, I love that we do weird experiments in the kitchen, I love that I can say anything and you'll understand what I mean. Most importantly, I love who you've made me become. You make me want to protect something with my life and everything that I have, and that something is you."

A rebellious tear slips from your eye and Sherlock wipes it away with one of his un-gloved hands before taking a step back. He suddenly takes off his coat and tosses it on the ground.

"I know what we talked about before, but I think it's time for us to grow up. This has been the greatest year of my entire life and I wouldn't change it for anything." Sherlock pauses as he takes out a black box from his pocket and slowly drops down to one knee in front of you.

"It may be a piece of paper and some rings, but I want the world to know you're mine. I want you to have my last name and introduce me as your husband, not your partner or your boyfriend. I want to be able to introduce you as my wife because no other word is significant enough to describe what you are to me."

Sherlocks takes a deep breath before opening the box and revealing a beautifully sculpted diamond ring.

"So, (Y/N) (L/N), will you do me the honoring of marrying me?"

You stare at him for at least a full minute before whispering with a broken voice, "Yes."

Sherlock smiles with pure happiness and slips the ring onto your finger before standing and crashing his lips to yours. When you finally pull away, Sherlock has that serious face on again.

"I used to say this thing, sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side, but hell, I'd go to the losing side if it meant being with you," he says.

"So what does that make me?" you tease.

Sherlock grins. "An exception."

And that, everyone, is the story of how (Y/N) (L/N) and Sherlock Holmes met, fell in love, and got engaged. Thanks for reading the last official entry to my blog. Have a wonderful day.

- JW