Chapter Text
Everything was perfect. The warmth of the blankets that John was drowning himself in, the soft pitter of the rain against his bedroom window, the happily snoozing bulldog curled in a ball at the foot of his bed, and the subtle aroma of tea that lingered in the air. It was all the man could have wanted for his lazy Saturday morning, and more. Although morning was a little generous, shifting his head to the side, he was able to read 11:44 on his digital alarm clock. John groaned at the sight of the time, the rasp in his morning voice causing Archie to perk his head up. He lifted himself off his ever-so-enticing bed. Despite his inner voice sobbing at the loss of contact between the plush mattress and himself, John begrudgingly began to start his day. Exiting his bedroom, the smell of tea only grew stronger, luring him into the kitchen. “Good morning, Watson.” Sherlock hummed, silently drinking his cuppa with a newspaper in hand. “Mornin’ mate, how’d you sleep?” John yawned at the man on the sofa, preparing a cup of tea for himself.
“Disappointing, the rain would have been lovely if it could only block out that pig of a dog’s snoring.” Sherlock half-heartedly replied, glaring down at Archie as he hopped his way into his lap, which he allowed despite his minor grudge. John scoffed at the sight as he also made his way to the couch. Seating himself on the opposite end of their loveseat, John peeked over at Sherlock newspaper. “I dunno why you still get those papers, we aren’t in the 1970s mate, you’ve got a phone for that.” Sherlock rolled his eyes to the comment which only widened John’s cheeky grin. They spent most mornings like this, together in comfortable silence that would inevitably get disturbed with Mariana bursting in with whatever case nonsense they got emailed, or John making painfully unfunny jokes that only Sherlock could find humor in. And just as such thoughts crossed John’s mind, in came Mariana with a stack of envelopes in hand and her laptop under her armpit. It seemed she too had just woken up, her dark curly hair in a messy bun, glasses uncentered, sporting a worn-out Little Mermaid shirt with a stretched collar.
“Good morninggg!” Mariana spoke in a sing-song voice as she made her way to the seated men. Seeing as their dinky sofa had little to no room left, she made herself comfortable on the carpet below. She smiled and cooed as Archie jumped out of Sherlock’s to lay in hers. “Traitor…“ Sherlock sarcastically scorned under his breath. “What d'ya got there, more fan mail?” John asked, noticing the small stack of envelopes she set aside. “Sadly no, just bills and one addressed to you and Sherlock I haven’t opened yet.” She pouted momentarily before strewing aside the bills and handing the envelope to John. Before he could even grip it, Sherlock had swiftly snatched it out his hand “Sure thing Sherlock, of course you can have it.” John bitingly mumbled with a gritted smile, dismissing the man's unintentionally rude mannerisms. “I wasn’t asking for it, but thank you, Watson.” Sherlock proceeded to unclip a small pocketknife attached to the hem of his pajama pants, flicking it open to reveal a sharp obsidian blade and slicing the envelope's seal flap.
“Just keepin’ that thing on deck, are ya'?” John sipped his tea, both he and Mariana slightly off put by Sherlock’s unwarranted possession of a pocketknife. “You’d be surprised how convenient such a tool is to a person’s day-to-day life.” To everyone's surprise, the envelope possessed…another envelope. Though, unlike the dull and basic one Sherlock had first sliced through, the small one in his hands was much fancier. Its exterior was a pearly white with swirls of floral embossing. A glossy black wax seal was perfectly centered at the end of the seal flap, a cursive A with accent patterns dusted in gold shimmer. “Woah, that’s a little fancy to be in our mailbox, who’s it from?” Mariana spoke from the floor as she looked up at the two. Sherlock silently examined the envelope, humming in intrigue as he ran his fingertips over it. “A man by the name Alessandro Vellinari, famous actor and model, rich, left-handed and engaged it seems.”
“Right, of course you got all that from a bloody envelope—” John puffed, unfazed by the detective’s hyper-analyzing abilities. “It’s quite simple Watson! Observe the initial in the wax seal, it is identical to that in a certain news article in the paper, you can look for yourself.” Sherlock flipped a page in his newspaper over, showing the article to John who grabbed it out of his hand. “Alessandro Vellinari celebrates 15th anniversary in acting career…blah blah blah—ah, wow, yeah you’re right, look at the photo.” John handed the newspaper to Mariana who adjusted her glasses to examines the photo. “Yup, that’s it right there.” Sherlock extended his hand out for his newspaper, waiting for Mariana to finish skimming over the words before she handed it back. “Yes, well if you take a closer look at the outer envelope, the pen strokes for the letters on the address indicate a left-handed writer, along with indentations of a 1.8-millimeter-thick ring on the left ring finger.” Sherlock concluded his explanation with a subtle smile. “Okay, so what’s some minted bloke doin’ writing us a letter.” John questioned. “Well, let us find out.” Sherlock picked up his pocketknife once more, gliding the blade under the seal flap and removing a folded piece of paper tucked inside.
“Ooh, can I read it?” A beam of excitement radiated from John as he childishly thrummed his fingers against the couch. “You’re not recording though.” Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I still wanna read it.” Sherlock rolled his eyes with an unamused huff. “Be my guest.” With that John plucked the letter out of Sherlock’s hand, clearing his throat before reading the letter aloud. “Dear Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson—yikes, no hello to you Mari—it is with my pleasure to invite you to Mr. Vellinari’s 15th anniversary black and white masquerade ball. Attendees shall arrive on the 15th of October at 21:30 at Alessandro Vellinari’s residence; for further address details seek the return address. Late arrivals, those who do not adhere to the dress code, and who do not wear a formal attire and masquerade mask shall not be permitted entry. We thank you for your time and hope to see you there, -AV. Hm, pretty short letter for such fancy packaging.” John tossed the letter back to Sherlock which landed in his lap.
“So, what do we reckon?” Sherlock gently slipped the letter back into the envelope, his eyes never meeting John’s as he awaited a response. “I reckon that we will not be attending.” Sherlock huffed as he set the letter down beside Mariana. John scoffed at the detective's dismissive response. “What do you mean we won’t show? We get some posh invite to some ball and you’re not even gonna consider it?” Mariana nodded in agreement with John as she picked up the letter. “Why don’t we do a little search on him, hm! He invited you two for a reason, and surely it’s not because of the podcast.” John shot a glare at Mariana for her remark which she snickered at. “If you two would like to waste your time on such nonsense, be my guest. I on the other hand have an experiment I must attend to.” With that, Sherlock lifted himself off the couch, heading back to his bedroom. “I better not find you doin’ more 30-minute handstands again, you’re gonna give yourself brain damage mate.” John shouted from the living room, getting a door shut for a response.