- c h a p t e r   s e v e n t e e n -

The wedding arrived in Emma's life like a cloud passing over the sun - she'd seen it coming from quite a long way away, but now it was finally making a full effect on her life. All of the rain it had been holding back was being released in a torrential downpour and there wasn't a thing that Emma could possibly do about any of it.

It approached and leaped on her out of nowhere and she was helpless to do nothing but simply go with whatever came to her as time went on. She thought to herself that it wasn't much different than when she was younger and did only what she felt like doing in the moment - she couldn't manage to find control of many things.

Soon, she hoped, this would end up flipping around as if she'd found a light switch and flicked it on. Until that point, however, she was more or less moping around the Watson wedding...and that was most certainly not something that made anyone wish to speak to her.

She could at least say that she'd found the proper outfit after all the struggle she'd been through. It seemed like an incredibly foolish thing for her to have worried about now that it was all through. There was so much unnecessary suffering brought together simply because she wanted to look impressive, because wanted to strut in on expensive stilettos and a designer dress.

What Emma quickly realised was that this wasn't a party, nor a fashion show, nor anything else that required her to impress people, make them wonder who she was. Those who gave a damn about her already knew who she was and those who didn't would not give her a second look after it all.

The whole point of this outfit was to attract people to her - she wanted it to be a beacon, something that would inform people that she was an interesting person, someone worth talking to and caring about after everything. If anything, however, it managed to make her blend even further into the background of the wedding.

There were so few people who mattered at a wedding, Emma realised. There was the bride and the groom. There was the maid of honor and the best man. Just about everyone else were there to make them look better, to show how they had such wonderful taste in friends and how lovely their family was.

How Emma had managed to fit into that role completely - she'd spent so much time trying to impress others that she ended up doing nothing but adding into what other people wanted to do and see at a wedding. But at the same time, she thought that feeding into that "hivemind" meant that there would be others who would care and help her.

She'd done it all so that she wasn't going to be alone.

Now, however, she was alone. She was lonely like a spare cloud hanging sadly at the very edge of the sky, depressed by the fact that it was surrounded by incredibly bright shades of blue that everyone else admired so greatly.

There were very few people at the wedding that she recognised, and even fewer that she felt she could carry on a proper conversation with. In an earlier part of her life, she would've been right in her element. It used to be second nature for her to strut up to any given person and start chatting without a care. What had changed?

She tried not to let the facts of the situation set into her skin - if that were to happen, she believed she'd fall into quite a bit of despair. What little she could glean from her current situation made her feel very saddened - she wished it didn't have to be so complicated for her to speak to others, for it to be so difficult for her to interact even in small amounts.

She could still part her lips and speak, of course. Emma's biggest problem was finding someone who would legitimately listen.

Molly. She could talk to Molly. Honestly, she couldn't think of the last time she'd talked to the pathologist from St. Bart's Hospital. She would prefer to say it was because their paths hadn't crossed, but a good amount of that was due to the fact neither made a conscious effort to communicate with the other.

Nevertheless, they could put that all behind themselves. Emma seemed to remember that Molly was good at breaking down grudges...that is, considering that she currently had a grudge against Emma. But, once again, Emma chose not to dwell on this. She'd already made up her mind about what was going to happen next.

With a small puff of relief released as a sigh from Emma, she started scanning the various guests at the wedding to locate the pathologist she was looking for. She'd been wearing a yellow dress, she couldn't be that difficult to find.

A smile gradually curled upon her lips, masked by several coats of lip products. This would be the perfect time to reconnect with Molly, of course! They'd been seperated from one another for far too long. Of course, their lives had parted somewhat ever since Emma had gained her footing in London, but that didn't mean it couldn't converge again.

Now, all she had to do was starting looking about and make sure could find Molly within the many crowds of people. That woman was out there somewhere, she was sure of it - she wasn't the sort to leave a celebration early. She would think it was rude and such, even though she didn't enjoy being around lots of people as a whole.

Perhaps Emma was looking in the wrong direction, then - she was trying to spot Molly in the midst of the big crowd. She started looking out into the people speckled across the rest of the room. Soon, her eyes set upon the bright yellow figure that couldn't have been a soul but Molly Hooper.

Emma had forgotten something important, something that immediately leaped back into her mind and made her stomach drop as if it had turned into solid stone. Molly wasn't alone like she was - she'd come along with her fiance and therefore was occupied already. A single glance made a clear the two weren't seperating.

Molly seemed to be attached to Tom, desperate to show any sort of affection. It seemed strange to see Molly doing such a thing - usually she wasn't grasping for attention, but this was different. She didn't just want to cover her fiance in kisses, she wanted everyone to know.

Emma parted her lips as if to speak...but, of course, there was no one there to listen. It made her stomach churn slightly to know that Molly had gone out without a hitch, that after all the suffering she'd managed to find someone to care for her so greatly. Of course she'd managed to get engaged and find happiness so quickly.

That was what Molly deserved, after all. She would receive everything she'd ever wanted through this marriage. All of her dreams from back when she was a child would more or less be coming true.

But Emma reminded herself that she could still potentially sit near them - as long as she wasn't too pushy, she felt that Molly and her fiance (what was his name, again? Emma couldn't even remember...) wouldn't mind her presence so nearby. Their chat might end up being idle, but it would still be speaking to one another.

Her eyes seemed to be connected to Molly as the pathologist continued moving about, trying to get towards the table where she would be sitting. Her and her fiance sat down there, giving a pause in the current situation that Emma took as an invitation to start moving towards them, making progress to where they were.

But in a split second, everything Emma was considering flew out of her mind.

Oh, no. She could not possibly sit there. It was one thing to have Molly be there with her fiance - it might feel like she was intruding at first, but Emma could've made it work. But now Lestrade from New Scotland Yard was there. Perhaps he'd forgotten about her already...but chances were he knew all too much about the impulsive way she'd quit.

No, no, Emma couldn't possibly sit so close to her previous boss. That would be like signing a death warrant, in her book.

As she stood there blankly, a waiter holding a tray of crystal glasses filled up with wine the shade of bottled sunlight came by nnd offered one to her. Emma didn't waste a moment in snatching one - this was precisely what she needed at the moment. She nearly forgot to thank the waiter...but she caught herself before that point.

Emma grasped on to the wine glass so tightly that she felt mildly concerned it might end up shattering under the sheer pressure. Nevertheless, she didn't allow herself to stop - this was her singular form of stress release, and she needed it unless she wanted to explode upon all the other people at the wedding. She had a feeling that would have quite an effect on how they viewed her, after all.

Finally, she decided that simply clasping on to the glass wouldn't be enough. There was perfectly good alcohol sitting right in front of her, and she wasn't drinking it. She tilted her head down in order to see into the glass, watching the gentle ripples cascading by in the golden liquid that seemed to capture light within.

Then, deciding that the beauty was no longer of her concern, she brought the glass up to her lips and threw her head back. Emma knew people weren't meant to chug wine - but she wasn't just any person, after all. People around her could easily give as many strange looks as they wished. She needed something to get her through it all...even though she'd much rather prefer something with more alcohol content...

No, no, no, a wedding of people she wanted to get along with was not a place she neither wanted nor should get drunk at. It was simply a wretched idea, no matter what she was going through. She'd just have to deal with only having the singular glass of wine she'd already consumed. More alcohol was for later, preferably when she was alone at home.

The main problem Emma pointed out to herself was that she was already practically alone - she just wasn't at home. Weddings tended to be large social events, and there she was, not socialising with a soul. To think that just a matter of years ago, she'd been the life and soul of every party she'd gone to!

What she wanted most of all, more than anything at the current moment, was to have someone notice her. There had to be someone out there who was willing to care...but no. Instead, she looked out to see crowds of people who didn't have a clue about anything that happened to her.

Now all she wanted to do was make it appear that she actually had a reason for being alone other than the fact she couldn't find it within her to approach any of the other guests and those people she knew wouldn't want to speak to her. Those were things she could hide away, she felt sure of it...

Emma just had to determine a way to hide it before she could put that plan in motion, however. Maybe, in the time she made that plan, someone would end up approaching her just to spare a single hello...

No one came remotely close to her, and she still didn't have any ideas.

She reached up to her and patted the ribbon tying up her hair - she'd assumed that it would be falling out at this point in time, but it ended up being perfectly tight. Her excuse for being alone and for having something to do had been foiled within seconds. It took an awful amount of her self control to avoid crying out about it.

Unsure of what else she could possibly do, she felt her lips pursing into a pout. How was any of this fair? She'd been working so hard on everything she did just to have it all fall apart at the biggest party (albeit a very formal party) she'd gone to in ages! Her lips immediately fell into a purse, making her seem even more petulant about the situation.

This was simply not something she could get over quickly.

But in these moments of pouting over her current situation, she found she was no longer alone. The flashing of camera lights pulsated in her eyes, and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop any of it. It had came as such a surprise that her only instinctive reaction was to raise her arms up to her eyes and hopefully block out the flashing.

The only decent part of the experience was that she felt relatively confident she looked good - she'd just tightened her ribbon slightly, patted down the flyaway strands of hair, straightened the mint-coloured skirt of her dress downwards. She looked absolutely gorgeous, which was what she had been planning for the entire time.

But of course, anything remotely attractive about her went up in smoke when she raised up her arms and winced at the feeling of bright light hitting her eyes as if it were a physical punch.

"Leave me alone, would you?" Emma barked at the photographer.

He made no response, but he still made sure to cease his flashing and then move on to another victim. Good - Emma wouldn't have liked to see pictures of her face contorted in a scowl to begin with. (She didn't like the fact that pictures of her hiding her face away now existed on that camera - she'd just have to hope that all of those photographs didn't get out.)

Of course when someone finally approached her it had to be the irritating photographer. Of course her reaction had to be unbelievably sour. Of course that was what would be everyone's lasting impression of her. Of course, she was completely alone once again.

What a shame it was, to be all alone in a party filled with people from all over.

She knew that all of the speeches and such would be beginning soon, and she was still standing about as if she didn't have a clue about any of it. Just as always, she seemed to be absent from whatever was going on. She looked so stupid, and she loathed it. She'd have to sit down soon, eventually...

If she wasn't so interested to see what Sherlock was going to do as best man, she might've just left it all behind right then and there. But, of course, curiosity was what killed the cat, and thus she stayed.