Chapter 12: Big Picture

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*A/N Just to clarify: in this particular chapter, words in italics are mostly things that occur inside Sherlock's mind palace; at the last part of the chapter, the italicized words change back to describing recollections about the past

The Present- at the wedding

The champagne glass was almost at the floor as Marie took a step forward, brows furrowed in concern. Sherlock was standing completely still, Tessa's words playing over and over in his mind: 'Enjoy the wedding.'

In his mind palace-

"Enjoy the wedding." Tessa said and Sherlock repeated: "The wedding."

Sherlock pointed as he finally put the puzzle together.

"You knew about the wedding; more importantly, you'd seen a wedding invitation. Now barely a hundred people had seen that invitation."

Sherlock glanced around at all the women in a loose circle around him.

"The Mayfly Man only saw five women. For one person to be in both groups..." Sherlock shrugged as he acknowledged, "could be a coincidence."

"Oh, Sherlock." Mycroft's voice came from behind, where Marie had been earlier. Sherlock spun to look up at his older brother as the room emptied so that it was just the two brothers.

"What do we say about coincidence?" Mycroft prompted from his place behind the podium, looking down expectantly at his little brother and Sherlock replied immediately: "The universe is rarely so lazy."

"So, the balance of probability is ...?" Mycroft asked and Sherlock replied quickly: "Someone went to great lengths to find out something about this wedding."

"What great lengths?" Mycroft pressured and Sherlock listed: "They lied. Assumed false identities."

"Which suggests ...?" Mycroft prompted and Sherlock answered, his eyes narrowing: "Criminal intent."

"Also suggests ...?" Mycroft prodded and Sherlock said shortly: "Intelligence, planning."

"Clearly." Mycroft said scornfully. He raised his eyebrows as he asked: "But more importantly ...?"

"The Mayfly Man." Sherlock breathed in understanding. "The Mayfly Man is ...

"...Here today." Sherlock said aloud, returning mentally to the wedding reception, just as the champagne glass shattered at his feet.

"Ooh, sorry. I..." Sherlock paused, looking down at the broken glass, breathing heavily from his realization. He cleared his throat, trying to focus.

"Another glass, sir?" The master of ceremonies asked as he held out another flute filled with champagne, and Sherlock replied quickly as he accepted it: "Thank you, yes. Thank you, yes."

He turned back to the crowd but was distracted immediately.

"Something is going to happen, right here." Mycroft warned.

Sherlock's lips folded tightly as he thought, but he tried to continue: "Now, where were we?"

The crowd looked around nervously, wondering what was going on while Marie's eyes were focused on Sherlock's. His were unfocused; he'd clearly had some shocking realization that had shaken him to the core, but his eyes as they flickered uneasily told her he had not yet figured out a counterplan.

"Could be any second." Mycroft continued warningly. "You have control of the room."

"Ah, yes. Raising glasses and standing up." Sherlock said as he lifted his glass, and everyone followed suit, looking anxiously at the detective.

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