Work Text:
Sisters
By Joolz
“This is not my fault, Mycroft. You were the one who wanted me to find Jackson.”
“You were only asked to locate him, not go blundering in and interrogate him yourself. We’ve had to take him away to a secure medical unit for a psychiatrist to assess him.”
“I can hardly be blamed if he has deep emotional scars caused by his mother’s issues and mistreatment of him.”
“Well, if you had waited for my team, they could have handled things quietly.”
“We didn’t have time to wait for ‘your team’. You said this was time sensitive and I have clarified that is, indeed, the case. Sealbry will be here in a little under an hour expecting to see the performance during which the hand-off will be made.”
“How exactly do you imagine we will be able to manage that now when you have single-handedly disposed of our star performer?”
“Is there no-one else who can cover?”
“Do you see anyone else around here except for the tone-deaf host doing his comic routine and the former Royal Ballet dancer with laryngitis?”
“Well, we have to do something. That exchange must happen or you won’t have any evidence to prove the corruption.”
“I am well aware of that, thank you, Sherlock. What is your mighty suggestion then?”
“Loath as I know you are to participate in any kind of legwork, I suppose we could always do a duet such as the one from that film Mother made us watch every Christmas?”
“Are you seriously suggesting that we provide the entertainment ourselves by dressing in women’s garments and performing in a manner exhibited by Crosby and Kaye in White Christmas?”
“Have you got any better ideas?”
“I…,” Mycroft shook his head in a bemused manner, “no, I don’t think I do. Where would we even get the costumes?”
“I think we may have to go further than just displaying sock garters as they did – though I’m sure yours would be enticing in the extreme,” Sherlock added with a grin.
“I don’t really think sarcasm is going to speed our cause to its conclusion, do you?”
“Oh fine, spoilsport. These sort of places always have a store of props and costumes from previous performances that we could borrow and I’m sure the ballet dancer can be persuaded to let us use some of her make-up. Come on, let’s go and see what we have to work with.”
They went through the supply of costumes on hand and luckily found a couple of corsets which would be most suitable and some backless heels that would just about fit their feet. A sizable bribe meant that the ballerina was happy to loan them some stockings and let them use her make-up. They even found some fans they could use for the performance, although they weren’t made of exotic feathers as the ones which had been used in the film had been. Altogether, they had enough to make the best of it so they hastily got ready.
Unsurprisingly, Sherlock had little trouble getting himself dressed as he frequently wore a wide variety of garments as part of his disguises when working cases. Consequently, he was ready well before Mycroft so he set about helping him. He pulled up Mycroft’s stockings, ensuring the seams were perfectly straight, and fastened them with beribboned garters to hold them up. He also helped him to pull the stays tight on the corset and finished lacing him up where he couldn’t quite reach.
“How did you manage to fasten your own?”
“There is a trick to the method of lacing to allow it to be pulled tight from the bottom. I have had occasion to don one previously and had instruction from a certain lady of the night which was most beneficial.” Sherlock smiled softly. “One never knows when these things may prove a boon, such as now.”
“Indeed; though one feels that this isn’t perhaps something that would crop up in the most routine of situations.”
“Routine is boring. Now, this could actually be fun, and don’t tell me you aren’t feeling it, too.”
Mycroft raised his eyebrows ponderingly. “Well, I have always wanted to use a fan. Did you know that there is a whole language regarding their usage?”
“I did, but I fear our audience will not be so discerning. Come and sit under this light so I can do your eyes.”
Sherlock pulled Mycroft over to the mirror and proceeded to apply sufficient make-up in all the relevant places to give him an exotic look. He then continued on to do his own, giving himself a sultry look with the kohl pencil and emphasising his cheekbones and marking his lips with a deep red colour.
They finished the look with a couple of dark wigs and their brotherly similarities were more evident in these matching outfits than was easily discernible in their normal day-to-day garb.
“You cut a very fine figure in that outfit if I may say so, Mr Holmes.”
“Why, thank you, Mr Holmes. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
The brothers grinned at each other for a moment; reminded of times long ago when playing together had been their most pleasurable activity.
They could hear more noise from the stage area which told them the seats were rapidly filling as the show was due to get underway for the evening.
The compere welcomed the crowd and cracked a few jokes before introducing the ballerina who performed a routine from Swan Lake. When she finished there was a fifteen-minute break to allow the punters to pop to the bar for refills before the second half of the show which included their act.
The boys were standing behind the curtain watching for their mark to arrive and they nodded happily as they saw him take a seat in front of the stage as soon as the dance had finished. They were unsure as to the identity of the person he was actually meeting, but Mycroft raised his eyebrow to Sherlock as a thick-set man took the seat just behind him. Sherlock pursed his lips and nodded, memorising the man’s face, neither of them recognising him from the dossiers they had previously studied.
“Maybe just a hired go-between?”
“Perhaps. It could be that Atherington is loath to be seen in public.”
“Well, he’s going to be sorry he missed this performance. Shall we, dear brother?”
“Indeed.”
Sherlock had already queued up the music ready on his phone and plugged it in to the stage speakers. They stood ready behind the curtain for the compere to make his introduction.
The curtains swung back and they launched into their number, singing ‘Sisters’. They each raised their voices up an octave and the overall effect was very successful. They covered their faces with the fans and peeked over the top, making the audience laugh as they pretended to outdo each other, batting their eyelids and winking at the crowd as they played along with the song.
They were watching the two men out of the corners of their eyes as they performed and Mycroft tapped Sherlock’s shoulder as he saw the exchange take place. Sherlock nodded back as they reached the finale.
They flapped their fans and smiled at each other as they sang the final lines: ‘Lord help the mister that comes between me and my sister. And Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man.’ Sherlock pointed out to the left as he sang ‘my man’ and Mycroft nodded at the man on the right. With their plan agreed they each took a bow as the song finished to great applause from their audience.
As the crowd starting clapping, Sherlock leapt off the stage and landed on the back of the thick-set gentleman who had just turned to leave. There were shouts and screams as the people in the surrounding chairs all jumped up and moved backwards to get away from the fight now in progress. Sherlock wrapped his elbow around the man’s neck and, after having the wind knocked out of him from Sherlock’s initial leap, it wasn’t long before his struggling ceased and he passed out and lay quietly in front of Sherlock.
Whilst this had been going on Mycroft had, rather more sedately, moved towards Sealbry and, before the man could pull the gun out from his pocket, Mycroft rapped sharply on his knuckles with his fan, causing his fingers to instantly go numb and lose their grip. This allowed Mycroft to pull the gun out himself and use it to keep the man in his seat whilst some of his agents moved in from the back of the auditorium where they had been waiting in secret.
When the two men had been removed from the floor Mycroft and Sherlock climbed back onto the stage. Sherlock walked to the front and started fanning himself dramatically before he leant forward as if to draw the audience into his confidence.
“Sorry about the disturbance, ladies and gentlemen. I’m afraid those two were engaged in nefarious business and the larger one was definitely the ‘mister’ who was about to get between ‘me and my sister’ and we certainly couldn’t have that.”
The audience burst out laughing and Sherlock and Mycroft received a huge round of applause. In fact, the audience were so delighted that they insisted that the duo perform the routine again as an encore. They were only too happy to oblige and they performed with gusto, enjoying themselves immensely before being cheered off the stage.
They went back to the dressing room and pulled off their wigs which had miraculously stayed in place during their little escapade and grinned at each other. Sherlock nonchalantly tossed the memory stick up in the air before holding it out for his brother to take.
“Hopefully this will make up for my perhaps marginally overenthusiastic interrogation of Jackson; though I still say time was of the essence.”
“In the circumstances I will allow that may have been the case, but your subsequent actions certainly made up for any inconvenience which may have occurred.”
“You know a simple answer of ‘thank you’ would work just as well.”
“Thank you, Sherlock.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mycroft.”
Sherlock smiled, “Admit it, you had fun, didn’t you?”
The corner of Mycroft’s lip twitched upwards. “Well, it wasn’t the worst afternoon I’ve ever spent.”
Sherlock raised his eyebrow at Mycroft and tilted his head, his eyes rolling exasperatedly.
“Fine! It was fun. I loved dressing up like we used to when we were younger and I’ve always wanted to perform that duet. I always liked it when we watched it with Mummy each Christmas.”
“Me, too. The coy little looks and batting eyes from behind the feathers always seemed to say they themselves were enjoying it too. It was nice having a chance to do that with you. I would accept no-one else as my ‘sister’.”
“Neither would I. You make an excellent co-conspirator whether you’re my little brother or my little sister.”
They smiled at each other before turning to the mirrors to remove their make-up. They might have their spats and disagreements but deep down the bond they shared would always carry them through.
Mission successful, traitors caught and they had had a little fun whilst doing it. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad being a Holmes brother.
~*~