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fic: The Feast Is Set

Title: The Feast Is Set
Fandom: Sherlock
Length: 221b
Rating: G
Characters: Mary Morstan
Content notes: no warnings apply
Author notes: Written for the "Flavor" challenge at [community profile] fan_flashworks; title from Coleridge, The Ancient Mariner
Summary: Everything tastes good at the wedding reception. Well, almost everything.

Smoked salmon, quail’s eggs, blinis with caviar, little hot savouries with cheese inside, red pepper bruschetta spiked with heat – it all tastes fabulous, and Mary wolfs the canapés down as if she hasn’t eaten for days.

But the wine - ugh. She barely resists the urge to spit it out.

“I chose this wine,” she complains to Sherlock, scandalized. “It’s bloody awful.”

He’s not even listening. Too busy being jealous of John’s old commanding officer, Major Sholto. At this rate, he’s going to implode before they even get to the telegrams and speeches.

She takes another swig of her wine. It really does taste foul. Maybe it’s just a dodgy bottle, in which case she’ll have the caterers’ guts for garters.

Right now, she’s got other things to worry about, like whether Sherlock’s speech is actually going to cause death from embarrassment. Or start a riot. (There’s CAM's telegram, too, but she can’t let herself think about that, not on her wedding day.)

After they’ve saved Sholto’s life and the Mayfly Man has been arrested, she thinks she can finally relax. But she’s reckoned without Sherlock and his sodding deductions. Increased appetite, altered taste perception, morning sickness… The signs of three.

She’s cold all over, as if she might faint. What will it cost to protect, this new life that’s just beginning?

Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/180330.html with comment count unavailable comments.


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