Chapter Text
“Come on, Holmes, you can’t sit there and tell me you’re not nervous about going to a masquerade ball?” Came the voice of his female friend, aspiring fellow detective, and co-worker, Inspector Beth Lestrade as the two of them, Sherlock and Beth stood in the entryway of the Georgian Townhouse that had been Sherlock Holmes’s home when he was alive in the 1800s. Things had changed a lot since he was brought back to life, flying cars, robots--sorry Compudroids, and other technological marvels thought to be only an inventor’s dream. For Sherlock, it wasn’t a big shock, nor did it take him long to adapt to the world of the 22nd century. But for me, well, it took me four years to get used to the jump from a world of cassette tapes, cable TV, VCRs, and home gaming consoles to what people imagined the world to be like once the year 2000 hit.
“Ah, my dear Lestrade, I don’t think it’s me who’s nervous,” Came the confident yet cheerful voice of the worldwide famous detective, Sherlock Holmes. Who knew that the fictional detective would turn out to be a real person?
As I stood there, hiding behind one of the pillars that were attached to the upstairs of the townhouse, I saw the two standing there, chattering away, teasing each other as Sherlock fiddled with the cravat around his neck. I could see the blue fabric poking out from his maroon-colored vest. Usually, Sherlock Holmes kept a calm composure, one with confidence and charisma but as I’ve gotten used to living with him, I’ve picked up on some subtle hints of when he was nervous or scared. (Sherlock Holmes scared? Yea right! That man could stand in the middle of some railroad tracks and stare down a moving train without any fear.)
Beth Lestrade laughed at his light joke, as she brushed a strand of her brown shoulder-length hair out of her eyes. Her dark blue eyes seemed to twinkle with the same laughter and warmth. “Sure, but this is also your first time going out and socializing in a little over 200 years.”
Sherlock wasn’t the only one who was dressed up. Lestrade wore a simple red gown with a few strips of gauzy material streaming down the shoulders and arms while the gown and skirt had some light gold designs on the trim. It wasn’t quite the Victorian style but it was still pretty for a masquerade ball. And of course, her hair had been teased and fluffed into a short wave, the paler brown highlights of her bangs a lot more prominent than usual. Sherlock was dressed in his usual at-home attire (a maroon-brown-colored vest over a white dress shirt and brown slacks and boots.
“Yes, but I wager it’s the same for our friend…”
“Rain? Miss Rain?” A robotic posh-sounding voice greeted my ears from behind and I immediately turned around to see what looked like a human head on the body of a robot wearing Sherlock Holmes-inspired clothing. Anybody who would see this being back in my time would probably be scared shitless but I wasn’t scared. It was only Watson, Beth’s CompuDroid assistant (and Sherlock’s replacement for the real Dr. Watson). “Is everything okay?” Asked the CompuDroid, simulated concern gracing his mustachioed face.
I nodded, glancing down at the entryway to the house, “Yeah, I’m fine, just… just a little nervous is all.” Heat flushed through my cheeks as my green gaze met the steely blue ones of the blonde man that was Sherlock Holmes ( Who knew he was a ginger-blonde instead of the usual dark-haired man that was portrayed by Robert Downey Jr and Benedict Cumberbatch and other actors over the year s). Sherlock Holmes may have looked a bit smug but he was just giving me one of his many charming confident smiles, or as I liked to call them, the Devil’s Smile.
I quickly looked away, feeling even more flustered, and took Watson's arm, allowing the CompuDroid to walk me to my room to finish getting ready. This was going to be a long, long night.
~*~*~
The reflection staring back at me was that of a long-haired woman barely out of her twenties, with dark green eyes and messy makeup. Yep, my makeup was a bit messy -- not from me applying it but from Wattson trying to do it for me in hopes of saving time but it turned out not so great.
“I’m really sorry, Miss Rain, I’m afraid I can’t do mascara and eyeliner very well.” Watson's robotic posh voice sounded sorrowful as he spoke, and I saw him standing behind me in the mirror’s reflection, his robotic body slightly noticeable underneath the Inverness cape he wore as a jacket.
I let out a chuckle and shook my head, “It’s fine, Watson, I’m happy you tried at least.” I smiled at the Compudroid before taking some of the wipes sitting in a small plastic container on my vanity table and rubbing off the makeup he used on me. I felt a slight sting from the wipes but it didn’t bother me. Some things never change in this world and that’s the best way to get makeup off one’s face. As I cleaned the messy makeup off my face, I saw the reflection of my room. My room at Sherlock’s house still had that old-timey Victorian charm to it with the antique mahogany bed, a writing desk, a bookshelf, and of course an old wicker antique-looking lamp and wardrobe. It was hard to believe that this bedroom had once belonged to Sherlock when he was alive centuries ago.
When Beth had him revived to help her with a case two years ago, Sherlock had argued (debated) with me over who gets the room but he conceded after remembering that he was a gentleman and a gentleman was never rude towards ladies or children. (Yeah he had been a bit condescending towards me at the time ), Boy did that attitude of his make me angry. But now, I feel a bit guilty about not giving the renowned detective his room back.
A soft groan escaped my lips and again, Watson frowned and apologized once more, “I am sorry, Miss Rain.”
“It’s not about the makeup, Watson,” I mumbled, burying my face into my arms.
“Then what is it?” The robot asked, one of his hands going to my shoulder. I let out a soft sigh.
“I just had a realization that I've been acting selfishly and childishly during the two years I’ve been living here with Sherlock. Especially towards him.”
“That’s nonsense, all humans have selfish tendencies, even Sherlock,” Watson reassured me but I smiled weakly at the robot man, shrugging lightly.
“Yes, but I’ve been selfish towards him, Watson.” Another sigh escaped my lips and I finally leaned back in my chair, my head resting on the top of it, closing my eyes as my long messy hair spilled over the back. “Selfish childishness or not, I need to do better.”
Watson ho hummed, most likely feeling confused by my words, the inner workings of his programming trying to decipher the meaning of my words and feelings. I finally opened my eyes and stared up at the robot. He had the head and face of a normal-looking man, one with brown eyes, and his brown mustache and beard covering part of his lower face. A bowler hat sat upon the Compudroid’s head. The human head was all thanks to some kind of techno face gadget called the Elasti-Mask that allows one to change their face. It always blew my mind how much science has progressed since my time and I’m sure Sherlock Holmes feels the same way.
I couldn't help the smile on my face as I reached a hand up towards Wattson. The Compudroid seemed a bit confused at seeing my hand sticking up but he caught it in his own cold metal hands and gave it a soft squeeze.
“Any reason why you stuck your hand up, Miss Rain? Does it hurt?” His concern-laced words made me smile more and I shook my head, squeezing his hand back in return.
“Nah, just seeing what my favorite law-abiding Compudroid would do,” I said. Watson just chuckled and released my hand but as he did so his gaze traveled from me and to the corner of my room next to a window. A shimmery purple and blue dress with spots of shiny sequins and little beads that made the dress look like it was made up of an entire galaxy of stars, the tiny beads shimmering when the light caught them.
“I daresay the dress you made is very beautiful,” Watson commented, but the robotic being glanced back at me, possibly taking in my measurements and comparing it to the mannequin wearing the dress. “But are you sure you can fit into it properly?”
I let out a fake gasp, pretending to look hurt, “Watson, are you saying I’m fat?” I teased. At this point, the robot got flustered and he quickly held his hands up in a defenseless gesture.
“N-no, not all, Miss Rain. I was just merely speculating that the dress might be a bit tight given you made the waist and bust area a smidgeon smaller than what your size dictates.”
I giggled a bit as I got up and walked over to the dress. “Relax, I was teasing you. And don’t worry, this dress will fit, if not I can loosen it.”
“Loosen it?” Inquired Watson, his golden brown gaze watching me as I now carefully lifted the dress off the mannequin. His eyes widened as I showed the back of the dress to him. “I see now! The laces can be readjusted as needed.” There was simulated amazement in the Compudroid’s tone as he said that, but his eyes filled with confusion for a second as I handed the dress to him. Once he took the dress from me, I slipped out of my blue jeans and sweatshirt.
“Oh dear, Miss Rain, don’t you think I should leave the… oh, you’re still decently clothed underneath.” He said with relief at seeing my white camisole and cotton shorts.
“Yep, I wouldn’t wear anything uncomfortable under a dress, or most of my clothes for that matter. I prefer being comfy over wearing fancy clothes.”
Watson let out a soft chuckle, “I know that explains your baggy sweaters and the casual blue jeans that you always wear.”
“Exactly. Now I think I’ll need help putting the dress on.” Another chuckle passed between us as we got to work getting me into this beautiful but complicated dress.