Thought I'd try my hand at something funny. :)
1: The Ambassador's Ball
John's starched tuxedo collar was beginning to itch fiercely and he fought desperately not to attend to it whilst standing amongst some of the most powerful men and women in the entire world. Instead, he gritted his teeth into what he hoped was a pleasant smile and grabbed another flute of champagne from the passing waiter. He sipped at the pale, bubbly liquid while his eyes roamed the crowd for his curly-headed companion.
John spotted Sherlock in the middle of the dance floor, waltzing very gracefully with a handsome woman that John recognised as the wife of the Swedish ambassador. They were making small talk (probably in Swedish, John thought) and Sherlock was giving her a sweet smile that John knew wasn't totally faked. John smiled and watched the pair for a few more minutes before he turned his attentions back to the crowds of people around the room.
Their target would be in disguise tonight, although John had worked with Sherlock long enough to know that even the most brilliant disguises didn't hide everything if you knew how to look. Their man was left-handed, roughly John's height, slim build, and deaf in his right ear. Some things could be hidden, like eye-colour or hair-colour, so John didn't bother looking for those characteristics. He decided to try looking for men who seemed to be favouring their left ears in the conversations. You couldn't fake not being deaf.
"Do try not to stare at anyone too long," a rumbly baritone voice muttered in John's ear, which made him jump. Sherlock appeared at his side with a glass of champagne and a smirk on his face. "Even the least observant people will notice you staring too long at them," he chided.
John scoffed lightly. "And how is the ambassador's wife?" he asked. "I didn't know you spoke Swedish."
Sherlock gave John a scandalised look. "John, I am fluent in approximately twelve languages and literate in at least twelve more. How could I not know Swedish?" He sipped at his champagne. "And to answer your first question, Ingrid is doing splendidly. Did I mention she's been a friend of my family's for many years? She is quite the charming woman, if I do say so myself."
John rolled his eyes and placed his empty champagne glass on a passing tray. "Well, while you were off with Ingrid being perfectly charismatic in fluent Swedish, I thought I'd start looking for men that seem to be favouring their left ears, since Benson is deaf in his right ear."
Sherlock nodded approvingly, instantly back into detective mode. "Very good, John."
Another waltz started up and John felt Sherlock tug on my arm. "Let's see if we can't quicken our search, hmm?" Before John could ask what he meant, Sherlock was tugging on his hand and dragging him out to the dance floor.
"Sherlock, what are we doing?" John asked as his partner spun him around and placed a hand around his waist.
Sherlock frowned and took John's left hand. "Waltzing, John. I did teach you how to waltz in preparation for this event, so stop gibbering and just follow my lead."
And with that, the pair was waltzing around the floor with a myriad of other couples. John tried to kickstart his brain a few times as he tried to concentrate on everything that was happening to him. First, there was Sherlock's closeness in his personal space. Sherlock was oftentimes within his personal space as he read over his shoulder or whatever, but this was significantly different, seeing as how Sherlock had a snug grasp on his waist and a firm catch on his hand. Then, there were the stares of some of the more…conservative couples on the floor and in the wings. One woman glared at him outright as they sashayed their way past her. Finally, John was trying frantically to remember the damn steps to the dance in which he was currently being led.
"It's hard to do this backwards," John mumbled.
"You should try it in a dress and heels," Sherlock countered, not taking his eyes off the assembled crowds.
"What?" John asked. "You've worn a dress before? And heels?" They passed the same glaring woman at that exact time and John swore that she almost fainted as she overheard him say that.
Sherlock frowned down at him. "Honestly John, how long have you known me? That was not the most outrageous disguise I've ever worn." He sniffed as he whisked John around a turn. "Besides, there's actually something quite liberating about dressing in drag, if I do say so myself."
John chuckled but noticed that once again, a few of their dance partners had overheard their conversation and were giving them some much scandalised looks. That just made John chuckle even more.
He felt Sherlock squeeze his hand gently so he turned his attention back to his dance partner. "Over my right shoulder," Sherlock muttered. "Dark haired man, goatee, glasses, grey suit, charcoal tie, pot belly."
John eyed the man as Sherlock spun him around. He was quietly sipping at his drink and talking to another man with a broad red sash on his military uniform. "What about him? That can't be Benson, he's nearly as tall as you are." John said.
"That is Benson nonetheless," Sherlock said. The waltz ended and the two men stopped. Sherlock leaned over on the premise of giving John a chaste peck on the cheek, but he whispered in his ear instead. "He's got shoe lifts, a pillow under his shirt, and he keeps tilting his head to the left."
"Ah," John said. "What should we do?"
Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the older woman from the dance floor who had apparently taken great offence to their dancing. She tottered right up to them and began to curse at them in a low undertone.
"You two should have kept that little display to yourself," she hissed. "This is a prestigious event, not Sodom and Gomorrah!"
"Madam?" Sherlock questioned with a finely arched eyebrow.
"Perhaps next time you should keep your little…idiosyncrasies out of the public eye. Your kind is a vicious plague upon the earth." The woman actually made the sign of the cross over her chest while glaring at them both.
"Madam," John said, his voice heavy with tired patience, "it was simply a waltz. And if you really care, we're not actually…together like you seem to think we are." He tried smiling at the prejudiced woman but she wasn't having any of it. She harrumphed and tottered off towards her table.
John stared after her with a frown on his face. When he looked back at Sherlock, the man was trying very, very hard not to grin but he was failing miserably.
"I'm not gay," John stated.
Sherlock laughed. "I know, John. Now will you contain your homosexual tendencies towards me and help me catch an international criminal?"
John tried to be angry, but the tone of Sherlock's voice was teasing and so he just shook his head with a small smile and said, "After you, darling."
