This is how it ends. Yep. I was going to write another chapter about Nicholas dying, but that- no. I can't do it. Sorry. Maybe I will eventually but I'd rather leave it on a positive note. It's hinted at that he's dying, he doesn't have much time left. I want to leave him and everyone else somewhat happy, despite what they know is coming. It's a bittersweet ending, but one that ends with love, no doubt about it. Thank you, lovelies for following, favoriting, reading, reviewing, responding, you have been AMAZING.

"Nervous?" his mother smiled at him and Nicholas shrugged.

"You'll stab him with the pin if you're not careful," his father warned her.

"Shush, mother's right to fuss," Molly sighed, delighted. She straightened the boutonnière on Nicholas coat once more. "Very handsome,"

"Molly," John poked his head in the door. "Mary and Ella need you, come help, lady crisis," Nicholas fidgeted. "With the dress, I promise, stuck zipper or something, I don't know-" they could hear Ella shrieking for help, caught between laughter and panic.

"Coming," Molly called ahead of her, kissed Nicholas and scampered out the door and up the stairs.

"I'd better go check and make sure everything is set out back," John said and hurried off. Sherlock fiddled with his cuff-links, then turned to the mirror, scowling at his tie.

"Third time in my life I've had to wear a tie," he said conversationally. "Still hate it mind,"

"Da?"

"Hm," his father was pulling at the tie, frowning at it. "Do you think…do you think I'll make her happy?" Sherlock looked at his son. "I mean…I know…I know what the doctor's said…about…what time I have left and everything but…I don't want her to be unhappy with me, short a time as it is."

"I think you will continue to do as you've always done," Sherlock replied. "You've always made her laugh; you've always comforted her and looked after her, same as she's done for you. I think you'll keep making her happy."

"She's not…she's not marrying me because she feels sorry for me." Sherlock was quiet.

"No she absolutely is not, you can trust that. She's a Watson, she keeps her word."

"She'll be a Holmes," Nicholas smiled in his own way. "Ma can have the daughter she always wanted." He sniffled. Sherlock reached for his son, gently squeezing the back of his neck before he bent and kissed his forehead.

"You have made your mother and I very proud, remember that, you've accomplished much more than anyone hoped, and have come much further than simply this," he tapped the arm of the chair. "No more tears, today is your wedding, I'm afraid I will actually have to put my foot down." Nicholas laughed, wiping his eyes before replacing his glasses. "At least on our part, your mother is quite the exception."

"And Aunt Mary."

"I'd wager your Uncle John may break first." He unlocked the brakes on Nicholas' chair, wheeling him out of Mycroft's office and to the veranda. Out on the lawn was a white tent, guests were milling about, waiting for the ceremony to start.