It's Not Real

Chapter Twenty Three

"I will," he kisses her head. "If it makes you feel any better, any sign of clothes coming off they get shut down for two hours."

"How do you know?"

"In the midst of your hysteria he sent another two texts." He looks down at his phone. "He assured about the two hour unplug and then agreed to remove all cameras except the hall, stair case, and front door."

Eve sighed in relief. "Okay, good. Especially considering two hours is not long enough."

John made a disgruntled noise, very unhappy to be hearing all of this.

"Definitely not long enough." Sherlock winked at his wife. "Evie, you have much more influence over Mycroft than I ever could. He adores you, but is also a little frightened of you." Sherlock glances down again. "See?" He shows her the text. "True."

She groaned. "Alexander Mycroft Matthew Holmes! Cameras! Turn them off! There's no bloody boundaries with you!"

"Is that really his name?" John mumbled.

Sherlock nod. "Yes."

"Why do you both– You know what, never mind."

Mary seems to have finally recovered, John not so much. "We really do need to get Rosie home." She pat her husband on the back. "Come on, I'm sure you'll pick your jaw off the floor by the time we get out the building."

"Flip off the front door as you leave!"

"Way ahead of you!"

Once their friends made their exit and they'd finished picking up Rosie Watsons scattered toys, tossing them back into the woven barrel that now resides next to the fireplace, Evelyn finally allowed herself to properly acknowledge the stack of newspapers.

"Maybe the press wasn't all bad for this picture alone." She said, touching the front page of the Daily Mail. Spread across the majority of the cover was a picture of Sherlock and Evelyn crossing the street hand in hand after leaving the registry office. They both looked great, even Eve could admit that. Sherlock was leading the way, gazing back at her as she smiled brightly at him, small bouquet clutched in the hand not interlocked with his.

Holmes Got Hitched

It wasn't as creative as some of his older headlines but it wasn't awful.

Evelyn had yet to deal with any real encounters with the press, they had miraculously managed to keep their relationship from becoming wide public knowledge. Until now.

Sherlock set two mugs of coffee down on the table, slipping his long arms around her waist and resting his chin atop her head. "I know he's in your bad books right now, but Mycroft actually sent us another wedding present."

"Really?"

He grudgingly removed himself from her body, disappearing into the hall to collect a large package. He placed it on top of the newspaper, gesturing for her to open it. "Arrived while you were at work. Had one of his goons drop it off."

Evelyn hesitantly pulled back the perfect wrapping, pushing it aside to find bubblewrap. Sherlock helped then, lifting what was obviously two frames around A1 size, so she could remove the protective covering. He set them back on the table and unstacked the pair so they could clearly see what was enclosed behind the glass.