A/N: I know, I know. I should be working on Westminster Private Academy. And I do have the chapter done, it's just not typed up and beta'd. So, time willing, I'll have out to you soon. But this was just such a fun idea that I just had to share.
Also, I took Magnusson and reverted his name back to the original ACD name but with the series appearance and personality. So, we have Lord Milverton instead. This was done for plot purposes.
Thanks to my beta, old ping hai. She is absolutely wonderful in helping me with these.
John Hamish Watson, of the Glasgow Watsons, had the sudden desire to punt that ridiculous dog out the window. Well, it wasn't sudden. He had been wanting to do that for years. The toy poodle was his father Harrison's pride and joy. The dog was vicious, lame, and blind besides.
It was also currently growling at him. Which was doing nothing for John's indecision. He was supposed to be in the ballroom, it was his birthday after all. But he wanted to go back upstairs and have Stamford, his valet, take off the stupid dinner jacket and replace it with John's favorite dress robe.
He had told his father he wanted a small, private affair with his friends back in Glasgow. But his father was the Master of the Society of Apothecaries in London, so it was a large, expensive party with only the top notch of London society attending.
John desperately wished his mother was still alive. She had a way of tempering the extravagances of her husband and the most outrageous behavior in her eldest, Harriet. If there was a poster child for wild nights and drunken rows, it was his older sister, Harriet. Being a woman, not being able to inherit, she was going to spend as much of the money as she could.
He hated it all. He was about to turn on his heel and go back to his room when he heard a discreet cough.
"Master John," a warm, friendly voice said.
John turned around slowly. His valet was standing there, hands tucked behind his back.
The barrel-chested young man shook his head. "You have gone and bothered with your tie again."
John's hand went to the offending article, but Stamford batted it away. He fixed the tie to perfection and John sighed.
"I don't want to go in there, Stamford," he muttered.
"And yet, you will," Stamford said with a smile.
"Why's that?"
"You father sent me for you."
"Shite!" John ran his hand over his mouth, covering another curse.
"I don't want to do this," he said, resigned.
"Do what, Master John?"
"This whole thing. I just want to join the army after becoming a doctor. Do good, instead of pandering to idiots all the time."
It was an old argument, one Stamford had heard a hundred times a day.
"And yet…" Stamford replied.
"Getting Father to agree wouldn't just be like pulling teeth, it would take a bloody miracle."
"And there you have your answer," Stamford said. He clasped John's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Then he used the squeeze to turn John around and push him at the double doors.
John sighed and opened them. He was met with the rush of sights and sounds. Men in dinner jackets, and women in their finest with jewels glittering on their necks, hair, hands, and ears. The dim light from the lamps catching their glitter and drawing John's eyes to them. Everyone was here only to see and be seen. It wasn't about John at all. A lot of his friends couldn't even make it.
And suddenly he felt more alone than he had standing out in the hall. The people milling about were all rich, powerful, and beautiful. All things John never felt he was. His father held all the power and all the money. While Harriet got pin money, he was told that his allowance was going toward his education. But it was just another way Mr Watson controlled his children.
"There you are!" a voice cracked out. John flinched. He felt fingers tighten around his forearm and he fought not to cry out in pain. "Johnny! Man of the hour," Harrison Watson said as someone passed by them. Once their attention was elsewhere, Mr Watson shook his son.
"I told you to be here by seven. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
John shook his head. He had no idea how long he was out there, dithering.
"It is nearly eight!" The fingers on John's arms tightened and John cried out in pain.
"Father! You're hurting me."
"I'll do whatever it takes to make you listen," Mr Watson growled.
"I'm sorry!"
"You better be." He gave John a good shake that rattled the young man's teeth. "We have a lot of people for you to meet and we don't have all god damn night."
"Yes, Father," John said bowing his head.
"These are all influential people. And I won't have you mucking things up for me. We'll have no more of this business of you liking men, so tonight you'll pick a bride out of five I've chosen and you will marry her. Do I make myself clear?"
John nodded meekly, feeling sick. He didn't want to marry anyone. Especially not any of the women his father had chosen.
"The first one you'll meet is Janine Hawkins. She's the ward of Lord Milverton. Her dowry is £30,000."
John's eyebrows shot up. That was quite a lot. He could see why his father had sought her out specifically. He nodded submissively.
Lord Milverton was a man of average height with a slim build and a neat goatee. His sharp eyes peered out from thin spectacles and his light brown hair was slicked back and beginning to thin. Immediately John wished he was anywhere but near this man. John thought of his Shakespeare: Milverton had "a lean and hungry look." The young woman whose waist he had a possessive hand on was pretty enough, John supposed. Her dark hair curled fetchingly about her heart-shaped face. Her skin was dusky and smooth.
"Lord Milverton, this is my son, John. John, this is Lord Milverton and his ward, Janine Hawkins," Mr Watson said.
"She's a half-breed daughter of a whore, but she'll make you a pretty wife, Mr Watson," Lord Milverton sneered.
John looked over at Janine, but her head was down and she wouldn't meet his eye.
"Her father was a business colleague of mine in Belfast. And after his wife ran out on him, he became a drunk. But before he died, he left his finances to me and I made his daughter very wealthy indeed."
"Sounds like she owes you a great deal," John said.
"Yes."
"And how do you like London so far, Miss Hawkins?" John asked.
"Very well, it's much better than Ireland," she said, her eyes still cast down.
"Of course it is," Lord Milverton agreed. "London is vastly superior to Ireland."
"Yes, my Lord," she said meekly.
John stood there feeling uncomfortable for young woman. Her situation didn't seem too far from his own. But there was nothing he could do for her, because he was as powerless as she was.
Mr Watson nodded to the Lord and they made their excuses, leaving that poor girl alone with that monster.
The next young woman they met was an American. She was of mixed blood, like Janine, only it was clear what her parentage was, even without them standing behind her like sentinels. She had her father's dark, wiry hair, large lips, and broad nose, but due to her mother's milky skin, Miss Donovan's skin was more like chocolate than the coffee color of her father.
"Anton!" Mr Watson greeted.
"Harrison," the warm, thickly accented voice said. "It is good to see you again, old friend."
"And you. Your wife and daughter are looking lovely this evening."
"Ah yes," Mr Donovan said. "This is my wife, Margo, and my daughter, Sarina."
The daughter shook John's hand and said, "It's Sally. Nice to meet you."
"Miss Donovan, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"This is my son, John," Mr Watson said finishing the introductions.
"So, what is you do, Mr Donovan?" John asked once he managed to reclaim his hand back from the daughter.
"I'm what is called in the States, a rail baron."
"A 'rail baron'? So, you own a railroad line then?"
"I own three," Mr Donovan said with a warm chuckle.
John's eyebrows shot up.
"Such filthy things," Mrs Donovan said with a sniff.
"I love them!" Sally said.
"I took a train from Glasgow to London, I quite enjoyed the experience. Are you hoping to get in on a speculation here in London, Mr Donovan?" John asked, and the daughter looked put out that John was more interested in her father than he was in her.
"Yes, yes," Mr Donovan said, and went on to explain his plans in England. While John was listening he winked at Sally and she blushed.
Soon they made their excuses and left.
"She certainly is an active sort," John said hesitantly.
"Yes. If Mr Donovan's speculation pans out, she'll be a very wealthy woman as well," Mr Watson said.
John nodded.
"How many more do we have to see tonight?" John asked, taking a glass of champagne from a passing servant.
"Three more."
John coughed and spat up some of the champagne he had been drinking. "So many."
"Yes. One is the niece of a widowed silk maker, Mistress Shan. Soo Lin Yao is very beautiful, I'm told. The other two are wealthy, independent women of eighteen and twenty respectively. Mary Morstan, the younger of the two, is an orphan who just came into her inheritance, and Sarah Sawyer's father recently passed, leaving her with quite the estate."
"Lead on," John said with resignation. "Lead on."
