Implicate
Watson and Holmes stood in the shadow of a pillar while finely dressed men and women waltzed only feet from them. Light from the crystal chandeliers blazed merrily off the sapphire, emerald, and topaz ball gowns among other colours.
"Do you see that Watson ?" Holmes spoke for the first time since returning to his side.
"Hmm ? No, I didn't. See what ?" Watson glanced at the black haired and mustached man. He could hardly identify a thing as the dresses had near blurred into one due to the dancers' synchronization.
"Standing over there, by the refreshment table on the far right side. Do you see the black haired woman in the crimson gown and the man with the ruched dress shirt ?"
Finally, after a moment's squinting he noticed the two. "Yes, what of them ?"
"The woman keeps looking around and keeps a tight grip on his hand. She doesn't want to be here, yet she glares with all the icy, unblinking fury of a spider when another woman so much as looks at him. The man contrarily is restless, the ring on his middle finger, a simple band of silver set with an onyx stone, flashes as the aforementioned digit twitches subtly. He would rather be mingling with his fellows than stood so."
Watson nearly scoffed. "Have you considered Holmes that perhaps they are newly married ? If so she might not be used to it yet and so she is still subconsciously defensive."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, my dear Watson."
"Oh, and why ever not ?" Watson leaned around Holmes, bracing against the man's side to try to get a closer look. They seemed perfectly normal to him.
"You cannot see it from your vantage, but she wears a ring on her ring finger. It is a simple golden band set with a rather large garnet and emphasized with a half-circle of light blue diamonds. It is the Sharpe family engagement ring and the man is Sir Thomas Sharpe, fourth Baronet of Harding Poole. Now, it would not matter, but for one tiny detail...the woman is Lady Lucille Sharpe and the title is self-given as she is his sister."
After hearing such a bold theory, a feather could have bowled Watson over. Sulfurous in tone he hissed, "You did not just accuse the aristocracy of incest."
"Of course not Watson."
Just when he had taken the breath for a sigh of relief Holmes continued, "Simply because they have further implicated themselves, look."
Through the crowd he saw Sir Thomas and Lucille moving away from the refreshment table toward the servant's exit.
"I'm not going to entertain this notion of yours any longer, do what you will. I am going to find a partner to dance with." Frustrated, Watson pulled away from Holmes and disappeared into the crowd. A dance and a drink or two and he would forget that Holmes had gone mad at last.