I held back a cry. Brain cancer? Stage four? Wasn't that incurable? I felt a tear run down my face. I wiped it away quickly, not wanting the doctor to see me cry.
"We've estimated that you only have a month to live. We are going to let you go home because there is nothing we can do."
Then he left. Sherlock came in soon after the doctor left, the plaster off all his limbs.
"Elizabeth! Are you okay?"
I nodded, worried that if I spoke I would start crying.
"They said we could go home. I have a surprise for you."
I got dressed in the clothes my mum had brought up for me, as my clothes I had been wearing when I came to the hospital were covered in mud and got into my wheelchair. Sherlock pushed me outside where a taxi was waiting. He rolled my chair up next to the door and helped me in. I didn't let go of his hand the entire ride, knowing any moment could be my last. We pulled into the parking lot of a church and were met by my best friend, Della.
"Hurry! We need to start soon!" She pushed my wheelchair quickly into the church and then an office, which served as a makeshift dressing room.
"What's going on?" I asked, worried about what had been going on while I had been away at the hospital.
"You haven't figured it out yet? You're getting married!" she replied, confirming my suspicions. I gasped as she pulled out a white wedding dress with a train that stretched on for what seemed like forever. She and my ladies maids helped get me into the silky, lacey gown that I was to wear on the happiest day of my life. It took awhile because of the fact that I was in a wheelchair, but in the end I actually looked nice.
"So, do you want me to push you down the aisle or do you want to roll yourself down?"
"I think it would be easier if you pushed me. If that's ok."
"I don't mind at all. I'll be in the front row if you need me." She smiled and rolled my chair out to a hallway. There, behind two giant wooden doors, was the aisle. Dressed on flowers and bows, it reminded me of the aisle in a romance movie.
"Are you ready?" Della asked me as the few guests who had come stood up and the classic wedding march played. I nodded, feeling a little sick, as my wheelchair started moving. As I passed by each pew, I felt a little sicker. Then I looked up from the floor. There, standing next to an alter covered with a white, shimmery cloth, was Sherlock. He was looking beautiful in a shiny black suit; completely different from the clothes he was wearing when we left the hospital earlier that day. His face was split into a grin that quite literally reached to his ears. I couldn't help blushing when I saw that. Oh, how I missed that smile! Finally, I reached the front of the church. Sherlock took my hands in his and looked me in the eyes. All of a sudden, a sharp pain shot through my head, down to my chest.
"Ah!" I gasped in pain. The few people who had come to the wedding stood up in panic.
"Elizabeth? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Sherlock knelt down in front of me, as a look of horror spread across his face. I heard someone in the congregation yell,
"Call an ambulance!" I fell out of the wheelchair, clutching my head as the world blacked out around me.
