Chapter Text
One ball. Something Sherlock Holmes did not want to attend. He will stand in front of a mirror and button up his shirt. To slip on that jacket. To fasten that belt. A pattern. He picks up the small tin of pomade slicking his two fingers through it. The ugly texture makes his fingers tense as he goes to slick the loose strands of his hair back. He leans on his bed the last private moment he has before he has to leave and keep up the ‘cold detective persona’ which even he had a hard time trying to keep up with. Deep breathing, muscle tensing then muscle relaxing. As he cleared his head, a knock at his bedroom door ripped him from rather vulnerable thoughts. The heavy steps of a friend. And his better-other-half. Or whatever Mycroft Holmes calls doctor Watson. Sherlock rises from his bed to say a greeting phrase.
Cool and partially collected he speaks “ Do come in Watson, What is you need?”.
He slowly opens the door and slides in leaving it open behind him. Just a crack no more. His bow tie undone. His larger fingers make tying it frustrating and unbearable for him. “I believe by now you know what I'm about to ask you.” he says it in a soft chuckle almost as they were whispering to each other in comfortable silence.
Sherlock’s mouth twitches in a lazy soft amusement. “Do you know how to tie a tie or are you just getting me too because you are lazy?”
John tilted his head up and almost rolled his eyes. Holmes hands started to do a standard bow quickly and efficiently. As fast as it started it was done. He nodded “thank you.”
Holmes looked off, avoiding the soft smile. As he switched his shoes from daily loafers to laced black leather dress shoes. Watson sat on his bed as he straightened the bow and buttoned up his waist coat. After the proper salaries, Watson clothes were never too snug or missing a button. Holmes liked it that way. As Watson looked at his watch the quick silence ended again. “We must head off, the carriage will be here, do you have the invites as I asked you?”
Sherlock nodded pointing to the dresser top. “Right on the top of my dresser. Both of them. You head down i must grab my gloves”
Watson nodded and headed out of Holmes' sleeping quarters. He grabbed Holmes' coat and his own. Starting down the stairs and politely bidding farewell to Mrs. Hudson. While he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and opened the final door out onto the street greeting the cabbie and sitting down into the wagon after discussing the fee. Holmes up stairs was closing all the doors, turning off lamps and searching for his leather gloves. He had already slipped his and Watson invitations to the party into his pocket. As he found where Watson had put his gloves he had gone and started to head towards the door. Uncharacteristically he felt his jaw tense. Was he nervous? Was the detective really this nervous about going to a party? He brushed off the feeling and headed down and out into the street and opened the door to the cabbie. Watson smiled the sparkle in his eyes, almost dancing in delight. He had always loved outings. Such as balls, parties, get-together's and even the odd wedding if he was up to it. He turned to Holmes and smiled with a bat of his lashes he started off a excited rant “oh Holmes isn't this wonderful i mean we haven't been to a party together in-..in about”
“Four months?” Holmes raised a brow to him as he continued
“Yes, four months, and such a thing as a spring ball? What a lovely event! The food, the dancing, the lovely lasses so eager to dance.”, Watson winked as he said the last bit.
Holmes couldn't have been less interested and let a rather disgusted face slip from his grasp of calculated expression. let His opinion be his but Holmes would not be dancing with anyone. Watson smiled and Holmes knew he was prompted to tease him
“Oh Holmes don't be shy about the pretty ladies they just want a dance. Have you ever danced before?”
Holmes sighed “Watson we have talked about this. Yes i know how to dance but selected a few dance categories such as ballet or even the plain two step. I am not one for dancing with others.”
“I know Holmes, but sometimes you have to widen your social circle.” he had sighed softly looking out the window rather eager to know when they were to arrive. “Holmes, can I see our invites?”
Holmes gave him a look. “Could you be patient for once Watson, we are almost there. Also I don't need a ‘social circle’. As I said , my position doesn't call for a…’social circle’.”
“You do have a small social circle, it's just small. Which it includes." Watson tried to think. “You have Lestrade?”
“That's work related.”
“No it isn't you insisted we invited him to Christmas dinner.”
“It was kind.”
“You have Mycroft?”
“He’s the government. And rather displeasing to be around”
Watson laughed “he’s your brother?”
“Watson, as i said i don't have a social circle-”
“You have me.”
Holmes' eyes widened at that statement. Watson stared back, emotion was always the reason for wreckage between them. One may be full of emotion and the other not having an inch of understanding. Holmes started softly
“I know. You are there for me, and I appreciate that.”
For another moment they are silent. As the cabbie pulls up to the large building. The sun set as the midnight blue lit up by oil lanterns at the gates. The tall doors garnished flowers and a warm welcome into the spring themed ball. The tall pillars by the door are pale yellow and the shining floor leading with a hall that was assumed to be the lead to the ball's floor. Holmes and Watson exit the ride and pay the fee. And walk towards the butler at the door. The tall but stout man with slicked back hair and a thin moustache greeted the two.
“Ah. Detective Holmes it's lovely to see that you came, and who is this?”
Holmes raised a brow as Watson looked away Holmes gave a rather cold smile then spoke up “ don't you read the papers sir? This doctor is John Watson. My friend and companion.”
The butler's face flashed an embarrassment then surprised response . “Doctor Watson what a pleasure. My apologies” he extends his hands out to shake Watson hand. Watson slowly shook his hand back with a annoyed tight grip. as they make their way through the door the other butler takes their coats to the coat room. Watson, rather sour, says “why you sure are the star.”
Sherlock chuckled “There wouldn't be a Sherlock Holmes detective story without a doctor Watson writing it for him.”
“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Is it helping?”
He sighed then smiled. “Quite so. Thank you,”
Once they made it through the room. Thew room opened up into the large ballroom. Watson looked around eagerly about to walk off on his own before Sherlock, almost in worry of his abandonment, links arms with him. Watson looks over for the second then smiles.
“Fine. fine both or none.”
“Oh please, it's just a party, I'm fine.”
They see many people from the community, the room almost bustling with a quiet activity that increases in sounds by the minute. Only those of the most wealth looked the most lonely. Others surrounded one another with smiles and glasses with spring themed drinks. Ladies with their chaperone gather many looks from the gentlemen across the hall. The pacing of many footsteps and the haunting echo of the band playing in the background. Watson found it astonishing and graceful Sherlock felt as if he was in a sensory swarm. He decides maybe a drink will smooth the edges of this event.
“Watson, I'm going to grab a drink, would you like one?”
He turns to him with a distracted smile he nods “yes please..that gentlemen over there, was he-”
“Yes he was one of our cases..he looks well, i'm going to grab those drinks now.” he paces off to the table taking a breath. Everything around him was unsatisfactory and unnecessary movements and noise. How unenjoyable parties are to the extrovert who would rather play scientist than learn a class in certain social skills. The man who would rather perform experiments on his friend then told to other officers on a case. He had the tendency of being childish when the moment of vulnerability was present in secret in his own home at the company of Watson but this was not a time to display such an outer exhaustion to what's happening around him. He adjusts his posture and stops at the bar.
standing in front of him is a bartender with white waist apron. He was sporting a shy smile and a sharp bow tie in style with his waist coat. His button up might have been tailored for someone else by seeing the double stitch pattern on his side he smiled forward cleaning a glass as he asked “how are you doing tonight sir. Happy to see you and your companion Watson attending the event of Mr.burchells spring dance. What can I get you?”
Sherlock immediately noticed the Scottish accent. It was rather strong for this high class area of London but it made a good contrast to what he usually hears. He nods and states “I’ll get a glass of burgundy and my companion. Which i am grabbing the drink for, would like a whisky on rocks.”
“Coming right up.” he moves around the bar and starts making the drink, Holmes with an ease sits waiting for the drinks. His eyes scan the room for john. His eyes land on him. The glowing man is the one with enough social skills for the both of them. He was talking about a past case. The other man meant nothing to him once his case was solved but the only case that was ongoing was john. What was it that made him so appealing to the eye? What made him so beautiful? Sherlock saw his drinks ready and took a gulp. He was to be on his best behaviour not dilly dallying on the subject of hidden attraction. The bartender gave him an odd look as he took another sip slower this time. John conversing was a sight to see. How his face made micro-expressions when people told stories or the way he smiled when people greeted him. He felt delusional with a longing and a jealousy of the mediocre attention the crowd got. They could be at home sitting by the fire,Or even playing a rather amusing game of chess. Not at a frilly spring dance party for the non-caring people of wealth, the people that smiled at things like suffrage and poverty. Watson wasn't like them,he was a step in the right direction,he understood the meaning of suffering ,wanting to help people. I Wanted to save people but I couldn't do that alone.In the end Watson just wanted to help him. Almost guided him,rather amused at the thought he smiled and took a sip. but he couldn't help Watson. he knew that smile was meant to be someone else’s.
“Musing over a person in the crowd? What a sight to see the great Sherlock Holmes doing.”
Sherlock, surprised , turns to look back at the bartender. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me, I see the look on your face. Pride to have seen a person like this with an inking feeling of jealousy. I have seen this every event I have had to bartend.”
“I- will you keep your voice down. I'm not musing over any one!” he whispered.
“No, no you're just fond of her.”
“..her? Oh..yes yes I am staring at a woman” he lied through his teeth. This ugly terrified feeling of getting caught for being something the public despised he covers it with lies of being interested in the fairer sex. Never to be married. Never to be discussed. But if only that feeling could be explored only to be poked and prodded at so that Sherlock could be the one.
“Looks like your mate has already started a conversation with her. Do you know her?”
“No no. Just looking. She is quite the dashing looking lass though.” His wording was robotic and sharp. He finished off his drink. He reached for watsons glass to drink for himself.
The bartender just eyed the drink then continued cleaning glasses. “Are you going to talk to her tonight?.”
“Socialising isn't my forte, but Watson sure looks like he is having fun.” he was sour as he took a sip of johns drink, taking a moment to adjust to the different style of drink. His mind silently swarmed. He leaned deeper into the counter with a haste to watch from afar. He continued to talk about john. “Always jolly him, always happy to go to these events.”
He shifts and takes another sip of the whisky. “I mean he is the writer right so he has to be my other half. Or whatever they call a duo with potential. God these events are rather overstimulating and dull.”
The bartender watched him drink and babble with slight annoyance as he continued to serve people. People passing by give a moment to look at them conversing whatever then ordering their beverage of the night. Sherlock quieted when the dance started as John enjoyed dancing with others. He swallowed more of the drink scrunching his face in a grimace slightly. Watson needed to finish his conversation and come talk to him. Not this random woman. A future bride. How ridiculous? Or was he being insecure. These years were the best he had as a companion. An anchor in his pathetic life. It must run in the family to be alone. His thoughts filled him like a maelstrom. Watson danced with the woman as Sherlock ordered another whisky. After this the bartender cut him off. He made bad decisions ordering the third drink. He is supposed to be rational but this made him tick. He didn't want to go to this event. He wished he would have taken his tolerance seriously. He sat watching a jealous game of predator to prey. As the dance finished he sat his newly empty glass down and made his way to the toiletries.Weaving through the crowd and trying to ignore the people conversing loudly as he headed to the door, locking it quickly behind him. Pacing back and forth for a moment. What was wrong with him? What was he doing here? Everything felt as if his chest was tight with a panic. He went to the sink to throw some water in his face. Relishing in the quiet and soundless room, as he takes the moment to look up in the mirror. He takes a deep breath with his hand on both sides of the sink as he sees the expressionless man in the mirror. With shaking hands and a steady gaze, what would his father think of these thoughts.What would John think,he can't lose the only thing that keeps him alive. With a rush he dried his face and left the bathroom. Following back through the crowd, his heart felt quick of worry. Then he sees him, In all his glory, Watson. Around people soaking in the world around him. Jealousy and a sick feeling swells through him as he wanders over through the crowd. As Watson makes eye contact, it feels like fire in his gut,why couldn't it be him. John smiles directly at him. As he walks over,John can clearly smell the drink on him. Sensing something was wrong ,his smile creased the people around him turned to greet Sherlock. he ignored them.
“Watson, I have an important matter to speak to you about” he said with a sigh, taking him by the wrist. Watson just nodded and said to the people surrounding him a kind farewell. They walk off john trying to get an answer out of him. “Sherlock what is the matter?” he was concerned a soft pang of nervousness tainted his words. Sherlock pulled them both around the corner, Watson pulled himself from sherlocks light grip.
“Sherlock what is it?, you are worrying me man.” he smiles with a hint of nerve in his tone. Something about this situation he knew would end badly.