Chapter 1: Dancing with Sherlock
Amber Crowell stood in the back of the extravagant charity ball, constantly checking a small silver watch wrapped around her wrist.
They should have been here by now.
Men and women crowded the ballroom floor for the couples dance as the lonely singles lingered on the outside. Amber had groaned when they announced the dance for pairs and shuffled over to the edge of room, hiding in the shadows. She was in clear view of the windows, so any attack from there would be easily spotted.
It was the ceiling she was worried about. She anxiously craned her neck to get a better view, but the glass sunroof was only visible from the center of the room. She would have waltzed her way over had it not looked so suspicious with her standing alone in the midst of a couples dance.
She tried not to be too worried. Amber still had a clear view of the tall man she was protecting without him noticing her too much. He also loomed awkwardly in the background, only a few feet away. Amber couldn't fathom why a man like him would go alone to a ball anyways. He didn't seem to like people very much. Although it was clear by the mud on his shoes that he didn't just lounge around at home much either. No, he was a working man and probably never stopped.
In all honesty, Amber had been rather intimidated when she got the anonymous call last week. She had gotten plenty of anonymous callers wishing to keep her job undercover before, but this one was different.
Amber sat on her bed, the telly on and a half empty bottle sitting on her nightstand. She nearly jumped when the telephone rang, reaching for the gun lying next to her. She calmed herself down and picked up the phone.
"Hello?"
A distorted voice answered her. "I need you to do something for me."
Amber paused, waiting for the voice to continue.
"On Friday night there will be a charity ball, hosted by the royal family. An armed and trained group of ten men plan to storm the ball and take all the money. They will succeed if you don't stop them."
"And how exactly am I supposed to get into this ball?" Amber asked, crossing her arms.
"An invitation has already been delivered to your front door." Amber started to stand to confirm what the voice had told her. "No, don't get up. Leave it until I finish."
Amber paused mid-stand, hovering over the bed. "You're..watching me?"
The voice didn't answer. "One more thing. These men plan to kill a certain figure of interest of mine. He will also be at the ball, for reasons unnecessary for you to know. Your duty is to protect this man from getting harmed. Perhaps you know of him. Sherlock Holmes?"
Amber's breath caught in her throat. Of course she knew of Sherlock Holmes. Who didn't know Sherlock Holmes? He was on national television nearly all the time, solving one important case after the other.
The voice continued. "Like I assumed. You will receive a hefty sum of money for completing your duties, and remain undetected if possible."
Amber sat back down in confusion. "And how do I know I can trust you?"
"Amber dear," the voice said, "you can't. But you can agree to my arrangement or…" The voice trailed off as a red dot moved to Amber's chest from her window. Several other red specks followed suit, all aimed for her chest. There must have been at least a dozen guns ready to shoot.
"So," she could almost hear the voice giving a menacing smile, "do we have an agreement?"
"Agreed," she breathed. The red lasers moved off her chest one by one, until all were gone.
What had she gotten herself into?
Amber shook her head and rubbed her temples. She desperately needed a drink, but wouldn't let herself slip off when this anonymous caller could be watching her at any time. She opted for water instead, keeping her head down and an eye on Sherlock as she made her way to an eloquently displayed table in the back. She reached down for a cup, checking to make sure it wasn't spiked and quickly downed the refreshment.
It appeared as if Sherlock needed something to drink as well. He ducked behind the crowd and walked over to the table, picking up two champagne glasses from a nearby waiter. Amber turned her back to him, pretending to focus on the couples dancing. Undetected.
A hand tapped her shoulder and Amber whipped around only to see Sherlock Holmes himself standing before her. "Care for a drink?" He said with a forced smile, offering a glass to her.
Quickly Amber grazed her eyes over his figure. His hands were shaking subtly, so he was either in need of drugs or already high. His shoes had old mud on them, but she had already detected that. A gun was almost completely hidden under his dress coat- which was fairly new, by the way, perhaps only worn once or twice.
Amber finally raised her eyes to his and shook her head. "No thank you, I don't drink."
"Yes, you do. That's evident by the way you have been glancing at drinks all night." Sherlock said rather matter-of-factly. He drank the first glass and grimaced at the taste.
Amber pulled on a facade, giggling and leaning close to Sherlock as if to tell him a secret. "Alright, you caught me," Amber put a hand to her mouth, giggling. "I'm actually pregnant. But don't tell anyone!"
She snuck a glance toward the ceiling, but still wasn't able to see anything.
"No, you're not," he said, correcting her once again and finished the second glass he had grabbed for her.
Amber was about to protest, but Sherlock interrupted her. "Look, I need you to dance with me. You're the only one in this room who seems even remotely intellectually competent and I won't disregard the fact that you have been glancing my way all night, so consider this your lucky chance to dance with the infamous Sherlock Holmes."
Before Amber could get a word in, Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her to the edge of the crowd dancing. She would have pulled away but… this might work to her advantage. An easy way to keep an eye on Sherlock and the perfect view of all entrances the attackers could come through. He gripped her hand and led her through the room, knowing each of the steps by heart. Amber struggled to keep up. He wasn't even making eye contact with her; clearly there was something else intriguing in this room and she was just a pawn to get there. Then again, she was using him just the same.
As he pulled her through the dance floor to the dead center of the room, her lavender dress sweeping the floor elegantly, she had to stifle a laugh.
Sherlock turned his icy blue eyes to look at her, obviously irritated to be pulled out of whatever trance he was in. "What is it?"
"You're a dancer, Sherlock Holmes," she said, struggling to get the words out without giggling. It was quite the thought. The raging drug-fueled detective standing before her had more precise feet than any professional dancer.
His brows furrowed. "Of course I'm a dancer. I'm dancing right now."
"No," Amber shook her head, using the opportunity to survey the room, "I mean you grew up dancing. Six or seven years of experience at the least, I'd say."
Sherlock only had a chance to glance at her before the sound of glass cracking echoed throughout the room under the waltzing music.
"Everyone get down NOW!" It was the only thing Amber had time to yell before the glass dome shattered.
Screams echoed around them as bodies fell to the floor, covering their heads. Sherlock and Amber did the same. Shards flew everywhere. Amber looked up in time to see a large chunk falling towards Sherlock's head. In seconds, Amber pulled out her gun that was holstered under her dress. She whipped her arm around, using the butt end of the gun to smash the larger chunk into a billion of harmless pieces.
Sherlock only blinked at her before she stood up, ripping off her dress to reveal a black ensemble complete with a belt of weapons. Sherlock stood too, brushing off the glass. People around her murmured in fear at her change of costume, some whispering the word "spy".
Close enough, she thought, turning to wink at Sherlock who was looking at the now open ceiling. Under the blanket of night, she saw ropes snaking down from the open dome and leading to the ballroom. Amber positioned herself between the money donated and the ropes. She counted the figures. One, two, three… No! There are only eight. She highly doubted the other two just skipped out. No, they were in here somewhere. But she had no time to lose.
Amber calmly spoke to the ballroom. "I highly suggest you make your way to the exit while you can."
Those words set off a chain reaction. People screamed and called out as they ran towards the double doors. Amber shook her head, refocusing her attention on the eight. One had already climbed down.
"'Ello lovely," the burly man grinned, viciously barring a rifle.
"Hello," Amber said, returning the grin.
Amber ran up to him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling his head down until her knee rammed into his face. Any smile he had on was quickly wiped off. His unconscious body fell to the floor. Another man ran behind her left side, hoping to hit her from behind. She turned around quickly, grabbing his rifle and yanked it out of his hands, using it to shove into his gut and smack his face, sending his body tumbling down to the floor.
She was halfway through dismantling number five when she heard a high-pitched scream. The exit doors had been locked, and the dancers crowded in fear around them. Two large men closed in on them.
I guess that's where the other two are.
She set off at a sprint towards the closest man, wrapping her hand around his neck. He dropped his rifle, reaching his hands up to his neck a second too late. He collapsed to the floor. His similarly-built buddy turned at the noise and ran towards her, pausing for a moment.
"You're...you're a woman," he said.
Amber punched him across the jaw, and he placed his hand across his face, his disbelief quickly turning into rage.
"Are you kidding me?" Amber exclaimed, deftly swiping a low blow to his groin. "It's 2017 people. Time to grow up." A swift kick had him to the ground.
"You're safe now," she said to the wide-eyed crowd. "Look away while I dispatch the rest, if you must."
She turned with a smirk on her face back towards where she had left Sherlock. Her grin quickly dropped. Two men were holding down Sherlock while the last made his way to the donation box. Amber had to admire Sherlock for a moment. If anything, he seemed more calm than before.
Now it was Sherlock's turn to wink at her. He dislodged his arm, punching one of his captors across the face and kicking him in the stomach. He rammed his head into his other captor, quickly releasing himself and knocking both unconscious.
She suppressed a grin as she faced the last man who was busy trying to empty the donation box, Sherlock standing next to her, barely fazed.
"Give yourself up. You're the last one. Let's not make this harder than it is," Amber crooned. The man rose a pistol at her, but she quickly rose her own. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The man only grinned at her, and aimed his pistol at Sherlock instead. He pulled the trigger.
"No!" Amber yelled, diving in front of this man she barely knew.
Pain rippled through her and she crumpled to the floor, blood pooling out from her wound. She felt hands put pressure on her shoulder and stared into those icy blue eyes before blacking out.
AN: Thank you for reading my first chapter of Dancing with Fate. Please review and let me know how you feel about it. Was it too fast? Not clear? Not enough descriptions? Thank you! Much much more is in store for this pair, and I'm really excited to share it with you all.
*minor changes made to punctuation that I missed after publishing. Thank you :)*