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Naomi ran her fingers over the beaded silk of her engagement dress, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. The cut was vintage and beautiful and by far one of her favorite pieces of clothing she owned. It had belonged to her mother, once. Now it was one of the few things Naomi had left of her, and despite the smile, the thought made her eyes sting with tears.
She remembered the last time her mother had worn the dress. She remembered staring at her while she arranged her hair in beautiful auburn waves in front of her vanity mirror, while she carefully placed tiny diamond studs in her ears. Her father had still been around, then. He'd still been warm and loving and vibrant, and the two of them had been getting ready for a date. Her mother had looked happy and beautiful and Naomi remembered thinking one day she'd be the same. She'd be confident and fierce, and if she ever decided marrying was worth the hassle, she'd find someone who made her eyes sparkle as bright as her mother's.
A year later, she'd lost her. And her father, going through the motions like an empty shell, had carefully boxed the most valuable of her mother's things, put them in storage, and given the rest away. Naomi had taken most of it when she'd moved out on her own, but aside from a silver locket she'd decided to wear on her wedding day, this dress was her favorite.
Gently dabbing at the corner of her eyes, she reached for the little diamond studs and turned back to look in the mirror. Mycroft Holmes was leaning against the doorjamb in the reflection.
His lips tugged up at the corner, and Naomi exhaled a laugh. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," he answered quietly. He pushed himself upright to move further into the room, snaking an arm around her waist as he came up behind her. His lips brushed against her neck in a light kiss, and she leaned against him, back pressed to his chest. "You look beautiful," he murmured. "Are you all right?"
"Quite all right," Naomi answered quietly. She draped a hand over the one wrapped around her waist. "Just feeling a little more melancholy than usual, is all."
"You miss your mother."
"I always thought she'd be here," Naomi admitted. She eyed her reflection again, if only briefly. "If I ever got here, I mean. I thought she'd be the one to give me the dress, help me get ready." Her bottom lip quivered a bit, but she reined herself in, exhaling a soft laugh. "Needlessly sentimental, is it not? It's our engagement party, I should be happy."
Mycroft pressed another kiss to her neck, gently sweeping her hair back over her shoulder. He met her eyes in the mirror, all blue and soft, as they only were for her. "You're allowed to be sentimental every now and then, dear heart, and she was your mother," he said. "I never met her, of course, but there is no doubt in my mind she'd be proud of the woman you've become. And I don't just mean your professional accomplishments, but... as a person." He peeked at her, and she tore her eyes from her reflection meet his eyes over her shoulder. His gaze turned softer still. "I'm certainly in awe of you."
Naomi let out another soft laugh. "Sounds like you're feeling a little sentimental yourself, darling." She reached up to touch his cheek with her fingertips. "Thank you."
He turned his head and kissed her hand. "You're quite welcome," he said.
"She would've approved, you know," she added. "At least, I like to think she would've."
"Approved of me? I should hope so," he quipped, meeting her eyes again with a cheeky twinkle in his eye. "I plan on marrying you regardless in a few month's time, come hell or high water, as the saying goes."
Naomi's laugh was lighter this time. She turned in his arms to wrap her own around his neck, swaying with him back and forth in front of their bedroom mirror. Her clad in shimmering pale blue, him in a matching blue tie and dark suit. She brushed his nose with hers. "Is that so?"
"You know I've always been an exceedingly decisive man," he murmured into the little space between them. "Well versed in the art of negotiation. If she hadn't approved, I'm sure I would've successfully convinced her otherwise."
"You're a very confident man," she murmured back.
"I was under the impression you liked that about me."
"I do." Her fingers threaded through his hair at the back of his neck, and she leaned in to brush her lips against his. "I love it, in fact."
There was a knock on the doorframe, followed by a quiet sigh of equal parts frustration and amusement. Violet Holmes. Naomi smiled at the way Mycroft's spine straightened out like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"I said to come find her, Mikey, not keep her in here for the remainder of the evening," she said. "You have guests waiting, you know."
Naomi straightened out his suit coat as she slipped her arms from his neck. He cleared his throat and Naomi smiled again. "My apologies, Violet, I think this was more my fault than it was his," she said.
"Nonsense, dear, you're an angel and always have been." Violet caught Mycroft's eye and gave him a look, stern and scolding and just a little affectionate, all at once. "I'll give you two more minutes because it's your engagement party, but if you're not out by then, believe me, I'll be coming back. Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear, Mother, I do understand basic English."
Violet exchanged a fond look with Naomi before she bustled back out of the room, leaving the two of them alone again. Mycroft took Naomi's hands in his and stepped back. He swept his eyes over her from head to toe, and the way his expression filled with familiar adoration made Naomi's cheeks warm, and her eyes sparkle like she'd sworn they would so long ago.
Mycroft met her gaze again. "Ready, darling?"
Naomi squeezed his hands. "Always and forever, my love."