I come awake with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed before I am conscious enough to know that I am doing so. What has startled me awake?

A crash of thunder sounds, loud enough to shake the house - clearly, it is a storm which has startled me awake.

I pull on my dressing gown and slide my feet into my slippers as I rise and make my way to the window to pull back one of the curtains.

Beyond the window, all is black as pitch save those brief moments when lightning splits the sky in two. Some bolts are near enough for me to hear the crackle of electricity, before the thunder drowns out all other sound.

I watch the storm until the thunder grows distant and the lightning becomes mere flashes bouncing off of the buildings opposite. Only now do I decide that I should go back to bed and realise that I do not even know what the time is.

I decide to make use of the washroom, splashing some water on my face while I am about it, for the house is hot and sticky in spite of that thunderstorm. There is no Watson to disturb; I may do as I please without the fear of disturbing him.

At last, I make my way back to my bed and cast my watch a glance. It is three o'clock in the morning. In another three hours, I shall have to rise and ready myself for my wedding. In seven, I shall be making my way to the church. This afternoon, I shall have a wife. With any luck, the rain which is still hammering at the windows will have stopped by the time dawn arrives.

I give a little shiver of excitement and close my eyes. Sleep. Difficult as it is, I must sleep or else I shall be good for nothing. It is not as if I can sustain myself with tobacco and cocaine in this lifetime.

When I next awake, John is gently shaking me.

"Come along, old boy," says he. "You would not like to be late for your wedding, I am sure."

I am about to respond when I become aware of a sound which would have been much more welcome on any other day.

"It is raining!" I cry in dismay. "Dash it all! We have had four weeks of relentless heat -- why must it rain today of all days?"

John rests his hand upon my shoulder. "I believe the old saying is: 'Rain before seven, dry before eleven'," he recites. "Fear not, Holmes; it is indeed supposed to dry up long before it is time for photographs. The afternoon is supposed to be quite warm, in fact."

I hope that he is right. Poor Beth!

John gives me a gentle shake. "Well, the weather is in God's hands," says he. "It is my job to see that you get ready quickly. Let me run you a bath."

Watson arrives while I am in the middle of eating breakfast. I have not yet started to dress and am wearing only towels.

"How glad I am that we did not follow the old tradition of going out on the town the night prior," says he. "Dragging myself from my bed is quite difficult enough on a morning such as this."

I can only agree with him. I dread to think what condition even my brain might have been in.

"Is it still raining?" I ask of him.

"Cats and dogs," says he.

I give a dismal groan.

"It rained on the morning of mine, too," Watson recalls. "I recall how upset Mary was about it. But it soon cleared and the sun came out. Do not fret so!"

I nod, remembering the day. "Mary was very beautiful."

He nods in turn. "That she was. Wise as well. Teresa... It is not right to compare them and of course it is natural that Teresa is rather different..."

"Teresa is also wise," I remark. "She does not yet trust me, but have I given her reason to do so? Mary saw the best of me -- I assisted her -- Teresa has not had that... advantage."

Watson chuckles. "There is that, I suppose. Do you mean to say that she is wise not to trust you?"

"She is wise to be wary of my attitude, I feel. My past record is not particularly favourable, is it?"

Watson shuffles his feet. "Well... neither is mine, Holmes. You say that you are selfish, but I could be as bad, if an opportunity for adventure presented itself -- why, I was prepared to leave wife and practice for days or even weeks at a time, for the sake of a case. Longer still, if it was for your sake."

I nod. "Did I ever explain to you why I asked that you accompany me on my little 'holiday', which ended in Switzerland?"

"You wanted my assistance," says he, nodding.

"Yes. Well, that is true enough. However, I also wanted for you to be safe -- had I left you in London, you might have been targeted in order to lure me back. In fact, I do believe that you were, when only Moran was left, but it was Mary that got in the way."

Watson gasps.

"You see, Watson, I could not have protected myself and left you defenceless. Not until Moriarty sent you away so as to attack me alone -- it was then that I felt confident that you would not become caught in the crossfire and could therefore return to your wife."

"Why did you not tell me of your fears?" he demands to know.

"Do you suppose that I had not thought about it -- that I did not want to do so?" I respond tiredly. "You would never have left Mary and we had a lot of ground to cover -- it was no place for a woman."

He nods pensively. "Supposing she had been targeted?"

"She was easier to protect than you if she remained in London, my dear Watson."

"Yes, I suppose she would have been."

I clear my throat awkwardly. "I was truly sorry, you know, about Mary. I should never have considered you to be out of danger -- it was unforgivably stupid of me!"

He touches my arm. "You were in great danger, Holmes. You are not to blame. Besides, it was all so very long ago."

I shake my head. "I shall never forget. To lose a client to negligence is bad enough; to lose a friend..."

"Stop," he orders me. "You cannot carry the weight of every failure -- from two lifetimes -- upon your shoulders. Dash it all, Holmes! Do you suppose that I have never lost a patient? Do you suppose that there was never nothing that I could do?"

I shrug.

"You should hurry up and get ready, old man," Watson reminds me.

He is right, of course. I finish my breakfast and then go in search of my suit (specially designed for the occasion and made to match Beth's chosen colour scheme).

By the time the car is due to arrive, I am ready and fiddling with the brim of my new top hat whilst pacing the length and breadth of the sitting room in a state of severe agitation.

"Holmes, please," Watson takes my arm as I attempt to sweep past him. "Do sit down; you are making John and I dizzy!"

I attempt to brush him off. "The car should be here by now!"

"There is still time," John attempts to reassure me.

I snarl impatiently and point at the window. "It is still tipping down, out there! Just look at it!"

"Have a sip of brandy," John suggests. "It will... keep the cold out."

I suspect that he was going to say that it would soothe my frayed nerves. He would indeed by right.

Watson pours a measure for me and I drink it. I must admit that it does indeed help.

There is a quick beep from outside and John hastens to the window. "Your carriage awaits," says he with an ironic tone. "Do you have everything, gentlemen? The ring? Your gloves? Very well, then; be off with you. I shall follow in the car, Holmes. Oh! Here -- I purchased these umbrellas; I almost forgot."

He hands us each a rather expensive umbrella which look as if they were made from the same fabric as my suit. I thank him hurriedly and then rush out to the car beneath the protective canopy with Watson close at my heels.

"Sorry about the weather, gents," our driver says as we strap ourselves in. "Still, it's meant to clear up beautiful later. Here we go!"

And with that, we are off.