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"Might I make a suggestion?"
The absurdly grim rally was now entirely focused on Bonde, their stares reminding him of the creepy dolls his mother used to insist were a necessity for a 'girl her age' to play with. Just like the dolls, the piercing gazes sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine. He still thought they were all making too big a deal about a tea party.
"If you don't want to be targeted," Bonde said after a few moments of heavy silence. "Perhaps you should ensure the presence of the most popular attention magnet in all of London. He-"
"I don't think that is wise!" Louis interjected. "If there is anything worse than a misguided lady snooping around the manor, it is to have that detective searching for clues, which he would certainly find if we're all pre-occupied with guests." Of course, it was understood that James was referring to Sherlock Holmes, who would certainly accept the invitation to see his favorite math professor.
Moran shook his head, his frown deeper than what Bonde had ever seen. "Holmes cannot be here with you around Bonde," he pointed out. "It would be a dead giveaway to our secret.
"Unless," William spoke, relief and some other unrecognizable emotion brightening his features. "Bonde adopts a disguise." Louis clearly wanted to protest, however he was silenced by Albert, whose expression had turned more delighted than dreadful, similar to Will. "And as for the concern Louis raised earlier, we ought to invite Director Holmes to keep his brother in check." The two brother's exchanged a look of determination, while their youngest simply rubbed his temples. "And what is our guarantee that Mycroft Holmes has any control over that ill-mannered meddler?"
"I believe it's infinitely simpler if our troubles were reduced from a horde of snoops, to one curious, and rather easily distracted man," William's tone was one of finality, and Louis knew that he couldn't avoid writing two more invitations.
So, when the day arrived, amongst the flood of visitors were two out-of-place men, who seemed to be childishly attempting to stomp on each other's foot right outside the gate.
Louis raised an eyebrow, casting a sideways glance at Albert. "Is that how The director plans on keeping Sherlock Holmes distracted?" Albert's eyes followed Louis's and he seemed to only then notice the famed guest's arrival. A second later he vanished from Louis's side, and was half the way to the bickering duo already.
"I'm so pleased you could make it!" Albert smiled politely at the two, shaking Mycroft's hand and then Sherlock's. "I was worried you might be otherwise occupied, with how busy you are, Director."
"He's quite the opposite of busy, I assure you," Sherlock muttered, and was about to continue his insult when a blonde head in the distance caught his attention, and he disappeared without another word, leaving Albert and Mycroft alone.
"Mr. Holmes-,"
"I ought to follow him," Mycroft interrupted. "I assume I am correct in guessing that is the purpose of my invitation." It wasn't a question, as the man hurried after his brother. The crowd was quick to notice that Albert and Mycroft had completed their discussion, and deemed it appropriate timing to finally swarm Lord Moriarty.
"Liam!"
William heard the familiar call before he felt the tap on his shoulder. "Mr. Holmes," he replied, turning away from his now annoyed audience to face Sherlock. "I'm pleased to see you."
"Holmes?..." mutters could be heard from the vicinity as the irritation of being interrupted turned to interest in the new prey. "Could it be..." "Oh, it's that detective!"
"I was surprised at the invitation," Sherlock said, shaking William's hand. "What led to it, might I ask?"
"Is even my desire to meet a friend suspicious to you, detective?" William tutted in mock disapproval, causing a light blush to tint the tips of Sherlock's ears: knowledge that William stored away for a potential future situation wherein making Holmes flustered was a necessity. It could happen! Didn't hurt to be prepared.
"No, however it is intriguing that you perceived my curiosity as suspicion. Hiding something, professor?"
Meanwhile, a small audience had formed, shamelessly relishing in the inexplicable tension surrounding the two rather attractive men.
William noticed Mycroft Holmes observing them from the corner of his visions, only a few feet away, and decided to implement the plan of turning the two Holmes into the center of attention. "I have nothing to hide Mr. Holmes" William smiled. "However I have heard that you have bene hiding yourself away. It's been mentioned in some...well sourced articles that you are keeping yourself off the market, so to speak, in wait for 'the one.' "
As expected, this caused a ripple in the crowd, the attention shifting from his to Sherlock.
"They can hardly be 'well sourced' if they-," Sherlock was interrupted by a Albert, who came up behind William and clinked a spoon upon a glass to call for silence. "Good afternoon to all of you," he announced, the greeting itself making a number of women swoon. Sherlock noted that some of their fingers while naked, were usually donned by wedding rings. "It is our honor to welcome you to our manor, and to engage with you in riveting conversations, however I must embrace modesty for a moment, and humbly acknowledge the two great minds in out midst, Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes!"
A round of murmurs followed.
"We make this toast in honor of our beloved heroes, who maintain order and defend us from the Lord of Crime in their own, important ways."
The second he put his cup down, like a swarm of bees to a colorful flower, conversations were being thrown at Albert from all sides. However, it was not as overwhelming as he'd expected. In fact, it was an easily manageable crowd around him.
"Your idea actually worked," Moran elbowed Bonde as they observed the guests from the sidelines, noting that the women had equally distributed themselves' amongst William, Sherlock, Albert and Mycroft.
"What can you tell about me?!"
"Just by looking at her?! You must be knowing of her already!"
"And your brother can do this too? Why isn't he a detective as well then?"
Perhaps Bonde's plan had worked a little too well, because now, while Albert and William were free, the two Holmes were barely visible through the crowd around them.
"Mycroft," Albert tried, but he knew he would have to yell in a rude volume to be heard over everyone else. He hadn't expected to feel jealous of the women with whom Mycroft was surprisingly interacting.
Of course, Albert was self aware, and was no stranger to the fact that he found the man attractive, but he didn't think he would feel possessive over a man who he thought he only lusted for. The fact that Albert was getting incredibly irritated at that moment had dangerous implications, however he felt comfort upon noticing that William was grinding his teeth subtly anytime that somebody touched Sherlock.
"You seem distressed," Albert said to his brother as they both glared angrily at the objects of their attraction, who weren't even glancing their way due to all the people hogging their attention.
"I'm not," William responded, a bit too quickly, as he realised that Albert must have noticed his angry expression. He thought it had been subtle enough, but it seemed not subtle enough to get past his brother. "Why would I be," he asked, wincing at the sharp tone of his voice. "And if hypothetically, I were irritated, i would point out that so are you."
"Well," Albert coughed. "It's simply that I feel guilty. The Holmes are our guests as well, and it was rather cruel of us to trick them into being bait. Perhaps we should rescue them."
"Indeed," William nodded, forcing his gaze away from the show before him. "However I do not believe they wish to be saved...and we certainly aren't good fits to be their saviours."
Meanwhile, the people in question certainly wished to be saved. Everytime they attempted to track Albert or William down with their eyes, someone would obstruct their view and throw another question at them. Mycroft at least, was lucky enough to look too intimidating for any drastic wooing attempts to be made, but with every interaction he had, he sensed the people were getting bolder. They had already started being touchy with Sherlock: 'causual' hands on his shoulder that evidently irked him, yet that he did nothing to actively forbid.
Albert sighed. "It is likely in their best interest that we leave them be, isn't it?"
"It likely is, yes," William said, smiling at the comforting hand Albert on his shoulder. "We should not have invited them at all."
"Well," Albert's gazed stayed fixed on Mycroft, who looked very close to resorting to violence. Albert knew he wouldn't though. "It's a good thing we're bad people already then."
"It's a shame that they aren't," William joked, however his tone lacked humour as he glanced down at his own hands.
"Woman, unhand me!" The sudden loud statement came from Sherlock, who appeared to be at his wits end. He'd tried to be more civil than his nature was to be, just because it was Liam's party and Sherlock didn't want to upset the professor by disrespecting his guests, but then someone had touched his hair and that was the last straw. "All of your hands to yourself now, or I'll start sharing my deductions which I previously deemed to rude to share!" A bit of pushing its all it took, to exit the herd, and reach William, who tilted his head in question. "I don't recall you ever shying away from rudeness before," he said at a volume only Sherlock and he could hear. Only then did William notice the effort Sherlock had put into tidying himself up. His hair was actually combed and it's frizz controlled by gel. His tie seemed a bit too tight, and it seemed as though his Doctor friend had tied it for him.
"I'm not fully incapable of toning it down in the interest of a dear friend," Sherlock said, flashing an endearingly lopsided grin. "I do apologise for being impolite just now, it was a bit-,"
William raised his hand to silence the other.
He realised that Sherlock Holmes had dressed up for him. "You needn't apologise, Mr Holmes. You reacted aptly to being disrespected." He then turned to address the crowd, who were all rather taken aback by being reprimanded unexpectedly.
"I require to borrow the gentleman for a bit, ladies. My apologies." William smiled and without further delay, Sherlock was snatched and dragged away into the manor. "Good Lord, I thought I would faint if my conversational battery was tested any longer. Where are we going?"
William had led him up a dramatically large staircase, and was now pulling him into what seemed to be a bedroom. "My room," he said, conforming what Sherlock had figured. "We will be undisturbed here."
"Right," Sherlock cleared his throat, his ears turning slightly red once more, hinting his inner thoughts to William. "It's a nice room."
"Why, thank you Sherlock."
"Yeah I've never seen- sorry what?" Sherlock froze and stared at William as if he had just grown horns, and the blond had to fight off a smirk. "What did you just say?"
"I said Thank you."
"No, no, you just called me Sherlock!"
"I'm certain I wouldn't have, "William said, however his mischievous smile gave him away."
"You sly bastard," Sherlock chuckled, as he allowed himself to be led to the king sized bed in the center of the room. "You pulled me out of the crowd because you were jealous!"
"Do you have evidence to back up these accusation's, detective? William said, reclining onto the fluffy pillows behind him.
"I'm sure I could proof that you, at the very least desire me in the same way i do you," Sherlock crawled over him, lightly wedging his knee between the other's thighs. "May I do so?"
"Sherly." And that whisper was all the response necessary.
There was a wide variety of things that William expected the man above him to do, but he certainly did not anticipate the way Sherlock's first action was to gently caress his face and plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek. "Gosh, you look like an angel!" Sherlock's face was as red as a beet, even though he was the one saying such sweet things.
William giggled at how he hid his face behind his forearm. "Well, I hope you shan't treat me like one this afternoon, Mr. Holmes."
"Don't worry, Mr. Moriarty," Sherlock rolled his eyes at being called by his last name despite their situation. "You might look like an angel, but I wouldn't be here with you if not for the devil which lies underneath."
William appeared pleased at that comment, his eyes glinting as he pushed Sherlock's left shoulder until their postions were flipped. "That'll be Professor Moriarty to you, Sherly."
"Why don't you teach me something first, and then we'll see if that title is earned," Sherlock replied, interlocking his hands behind William's neck, allowing his tie to be undone and thrown across the room."
---
After William and Sherlock fled the scene, Albert and Mycroft were left to handle the love-hungry crowd, and Albert found himself developing a splitting headache. He kept his charming exterior, but he was barely conscious of his interactions.
He vaguely registered that at some point, Mycroft had come to stand at his side, and a few seconds after the director had taken this position, there was a series of gasps which snapped Albert out of his trance.
"Oh Lord, I'm so sorry sir! I simply tripped over my skirt,"
Albert realised the cause of the reaction was that some tea had been spilt on Mycroft's shirt, and he assumed that the woman who was apologising had been the culprit.
"It's no problem," Mycroft said, and Albert was surprised when the man's smile seemed genuine. "I'm sure Count Moriarty can guide me to where I might wash this stain off, right?" Mycroft said, seeming oddly delighted at the prospect.
"Right, of course," Albert said, excusing himself and beckoning over Moran and Bonde to hold the fort while he helped Mycroft.
"The washroom is right this way." Albert pointed to the left, however Mycroft began climbing the large staircase instead.
Mycroft turned to Albert, with a look that sent shivers down his spine. "It seems to me that this shirt is beyond help and the stain shall last forever. The only appropriate solution now seems to be discarding the garment entirely, and I thought your bedroom to be a more fitting location."
Albert was rarely at a loss for words but in that moment he stood speechless as he felt heat climb up his cheeks. After a few seconds of shock, he couldn't help bursting into laughter. "You! You're a bigger schemer than I am. You tripped that woman yourself, didn't you?!"
Mycroft simply smirked at that, shrugging as Albert caught up to him and led them to his room. "Well, I doubted you would have invited me in if I left you in the lead, and ruining my clothes seemed like the most clever way to get out of them."
Albert locked the door behind them as they began to make quick work of discarding Mycroft's shirt as promised. "We shouldn't do this. Certainly not right now."
"Albert," Mycroft deadpanned. "I am half nude in your room, and we both want this so-,"
He was silenced with a rough kiss to his lips, and hands already sneaking under his trousers and squeezing his arse. "You make a good argument," Albert said.
They then wasted no time in discarding the rest of thier attire, and falling into each other on Albert's fluffy mattress.
---
No one dared to go follow up on any of the four missing men. Even though it was night time, and all the guests had begun leaving once they realised that the hosts had abandoned them, even Louis had refrained from checking on his brothers.
"Something tells me they are currently more happy than they might ever be again," he had said, before retiring to his own chambers.
The lights in the manor went off, and no one bothered to question why two of the guests hadn't left yet...they knew why.
---
As the house fell asleep, with some of it's residents being held in ways they never thought they deserved to be, clinking sounds still persisted in the basement, as Herder neared the solution of his final puzzle.
"I'm sure they would not have forgotten about me..."