A smug looking Mary thrust a bottle of her favourite prosecco in to the arms of her husband, then turned to the consulting detective, who was sitting on the bar stool by the breakfast bar with a look on his face that can only be compared to a five year old that has been refused a new toy.
"Sherlock, get in there and socialise!" she demanded, hands on hips.
"I must remind you that our agreement involved me simply being here. You said nothing about taking part in the 'mingling' as John so quaintly put it." he continued to stare at the wall in front of him, not gracing Mrs. Watson with the honour of his eye contact.
A week earlier, in that very kitchen, Mary and Sherlock had watched John throw away an instruction booklet. Knowing that this spelt trouble, Mary had bet that Sherlock and John would not successful in building the new flat pack coffee table. Obviously Sherlock was confident; if he could build a cardboard pirate ship when he was eight, how hard could slotting a few pieces of wood together be?
It turned out it could be very difficult indeed. Sherlock had got bored and threw a draw handle across the room. John, who had told Mary that 'instructions are for idiots', left the room swearing, nursing a stubbed toe after kicking the solid oak. As a result, Sherlock had been forced to attend the Watson's New Years Eve party.
Pouring the sparkling wine in to delicate champagne flutes, John followed through the hall in to the living room, where he handed one glass to Molly and the other to Greg, who was leaning against the doorframe. The assistant host nodded to some neighbours who has just arrived before escaping back to join his best man.
"You want one?" he asked, nodding towards the freshly poured glass of whiskey on the worktop. The reply came in the form of a shake of the head.
"Well, I suppose I can't hide in here for much longer", he sighed and turned back to the door he had only just returned through "half of this party was meant to be thrown by me anyway." As soon as the door was opened, Sherlock heard a familiar voice:
"Mr Holmes!" A young boy entered, ducking underneath John's arm and heading straight for his mentor in the corner. Unable to reach any other body part, Archie hugged Sherlock's leg affectionately. He received a pat on the head as recognition.
"Hello, Archie" The young boy finally released his limb and was now staring up at him expectantly.
"Isn't it past your bed time?"
"No, It's only 8 o clock"
"What? Really? Oh God, I was hoping I could go home soon. I swear I've been here for hours!". He squeezed the top of his porcelain nose, starting to regret his decline of a drink.
Archie's face dropped. "Don't go home, we can play a game if you like?"
Desperate to avoid hide and seek or I spy, Sherlock knew exactly what game he would be playing. It would involve some tutoring first, but Archie was bright, he would pick it up.
"Ever heard of a game called Deductions, Archie?" he grinned.
The unlikely pair found a place in the crowded room, Sherlock perched on the corpse of the coffee table, Archie next to him. The teacher scanned the room for the first target. Someone that Archie didn't know (he wouldn't condone cheating) but as easy enough to start with.
"Her." He said, pointing at a blonde that was across the room from them. There was no need to whisper, as the music and the conversation around them covered their tracks. Sherlock read her in a minute, before prompting his companion.
"What about her?"
"Tell me anything you know, or can deduce about her." Sherlock rolled his eyes. Wanting to get the ball rolling, he hinted at a point of interest.
"Look at what's in her hand."
"Erm, she's drinking wine?"
"Nope. Look again, all night she's been filling up her own drink, even after John offered her a refill. So she wants to control what she drinks. There are a number of possibilities, maybe she is driving home and wants to control how much she drinks, maybe she is trying to hide what she's drinking. I favour the latter, seeing as that drink is far too clear to be white wine. It can't be spirit, she's had 3 glasses and isn't even tipsy yet. So more than likely it's non alcoholic. Then there's the fact that she's wearing a loose fitting dress. The ridiculously tight dress she wore at the Wedding and the amount of cleavage she's got on show tells us she's not exactly shy when it comes to showing off her figure. Plus she's been clutching her stomach every five minutes. Why has she concealed her body shape? Why is she not drinking and hiding it? Answer: she is pregnant but hasn't told her friends yet."
It'd been a while since Sherlock had reeled off a deduction like that. It felt good, showing off. He watched as it sunk in to Archie's brain and the boy caught up.
"That. is. so. cool." he gasped. His admiration for the detective increased every time he spoke.
"You have a go now. Tell me about the man in the green jumper." Archie scanned the room in search of said target. On finding him, he cleared his throat.
"Well, he has checked his phone a lot."
"And what might that imply?" Sherlock prompted. It was easy to see a trait, but interpreting it was the real test.
"He might be waiting for a message from someone."
"Good."
"And he's kept his coat and shoes on so when he does get it, he will be leaving."
Sherlock nodded. He had dreaded the party, but teaching Archie had just made it a whole lot more interesting.
A/N: Sorry that it doesn't really go anywhere. I (might) continue with this if you guys like it. I just love Archie! .
