Chapter 1: What is this, an insane asylum?

John slipped his card in the woman's coat pocket, she glanced up warily at John.

"If you ever need anything, you can just call me." John smiled at the young woman and she smiled back, though she didn't look as though she meant it. John beamed slightly and watched her pick up her dress by its sides and shuffle away. John looked around, hands in his pockets, awaiting what he should do next.

"It would help if you weren't handing your number to potential victims during field work." Sherlock's voice boomed through the earpiece John had fixed as deep in as was possible. John reached up to adjust it, hoping to lower the volume.

"It would also help if you weren't always such a moron, don't touch the ear piece or it'll be a dead give away. Now turn around and smile." John did as he was told and found himself grinning to an older man with slight wrinkles near his eyes.

"You don't always have to be such a dick you know." John mumbled as discreetly as he could.

"There are so many other words for that and you chose dick? Besides, I think it would be in your best interest to know that the number you slipped into that woman's pocket is now stuck to an ice within the ice box." Sherlock added smugly. John inwardly groaned, he had really like that girl. Then again, he would like any girl after all he had been through. In fact, he was certain he would like anyone who could talk and smile and breathe. But still, his preferences were tall, darker hair, slender bone structure and mysterious to some extent. He had always been drawn in some way to women like that.

"Well my cover is a young bachelor so really I was only protecting and making my character more believable." John crossed his arms, but Sherlock could not see him, nor him Sherlock, so the act of annoyance was to no avail.

"John, I found the suspect." John snapped into attention. He peered around the ballroom. "By the brown table, he's got a red tie and a black suit on.

"Lestrade, do you have eyes on him?" John began circling the crowd, attempting to get closer.

"Yes, I have all the cameras under my control and suspect A is in my vision."

"But have you hacked into the cameras?" Sherlock inquired, John could almost hear him, really hear him, as though Sherlock were right beside John.

"No but-"

"Again it seems I am the only one doing the work." Sherlock stood beside John now, his familiar scent snaking it's way into John's system.

"Shut up." Lestrade replied, rather with annoyance than anger. It seemed Lestrade had used all the anger he could at Sherlock and now there was none left. Sherlock tightened his tie and began walking forward.

"Hey," John grabbed onto Sherlock's thin arm and pulled him back. "What's you're plan Agent Holmes?" John mocked his professional name. Sherlock pulled away.

"I was going to be a man investing in-" Sherlock began, though his voice was suddenly much more stern, a sure sign Sherlock was soon to pout.

"No, I think we let Irene handle this." John attempted to say her name as though it meant nothing, but he knew his pitch changed as her name came along. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, of course Sherlock would notice, if Sherlock didn't notice, no one could. But it seemed Sherlock was not narrowing his eyes at John, no he was narrowing his eyes behind John.

"Well, at least she's on time." John muttered as he turned around. Irene sauntered into the large ballroom, the violins began to play a faster beat and around her, people stared enviously and some stared, awe-struck. As though Irene was their goddess. But she had a reputation she could never outlive, and many people here had heard of her. Some threw her looks of disgust. Irene had not done well on her disguise. She wore a long backless red dress that had not a wrinkle or a stain anywhere. The dress was so tight, one would think it would tear as soon as she moved, but she continued on, walking towards the dance floor. Irene stood hesitantly before three or four men rushed over to give their hands. Irene took that of the first man who came her way. The tall blonde seemed stoked happy and he held onto Irene as though she might break, on trembling hand on her hip, one holding her other hand. Together they danced for 2 perhaps even 3 songs. It wasn't long before most people had moved out of the way for them. As subtly as she could manage, Irene danced till she was as close to the suspect as possible.

"She doesn't have to touch him that much." John grumbled, more so to himself than anyone else.

"Jealous." Sherlock noted. John bit his lip and did what he could to ignore Sherlock. On the dance floor, Irene and the blonde were coming to a slow halt.

"He's noticed her, in about 20 seconds he's going to go up there, see how he's handling his glass? He's agitated. Clearly he's had a few drinks before this. His body guards seem tense, more tense than they should. I would say he's had a bad history of alcohol, something happened, he did something when he was drunk. His upper lip is scared, it's a thin line but its paleness indicates it is deep, I would say a fist fight perhaps, but the scar resembles that of a glass shard. He has no wife, only suitors but he has 2 young girls. No animals, in fact he hates animals."

John watched as suspect A stood up and walked towards Irene. The blonde pulled away, almost out of fear, however Irene stood her ground. She smiled dauntingly.

"My fair lady, may I have this dance?" He bent over and held out his hand.

"Back injury, he's leaning towards the left, leg injury as well. His right hand normally carries a walking stick but he deemed it inappropriate and suspicious if he carried one." Sherlock continued.

"What color?" John asked, not expecting an answer.

"Blue."

"Silvia, would be the name." Irene replied, slipping her hand inside of his. "You may have this dance." He stood up, twisting slightly to the left. Then he regained his stance and, in a less gentle way than the tall blonde, grabbed onto Irene's waist.

They danced for a while, and John watched as his hand stroked her bare back.

"You are beautiful." He whispered into her ear, his accents thick in his voice. Sherlock smiled and John frowned.

"Shit load of good that lines going to get him. Trust me I've tried." Lestrade's voice came out from the other end of the earpiece.

"Don't, Lestrade, John's taking this slightly personally." Sherlock warned as he watched John from his peripheral vision.

"Well I do try." Irene replied simply, smiling devilishly at him. He gripped her dress tighter.

"She's pushing it." Sherlock muttered and John held his breathe. Irene hadn't been in the field in 2 months after suffering 3 bullet wounds, 2 to the chest, one to the back. Today was her test. She had always been a brilliant agent but fatal accidents tended to leave scars, in more ways that physicall.

"And to whom do I owe the pleasure of this dance?" Irene twirled, her dress tangling within itself.

"David." Suspect A replied as he pulled her in, his mouth slightly grazing her ear. Irene pulled away and continued dancing.

"Such a bitter sweet name." Irene's face was inches away from his. "Would you like to take this elsewhere?" Irene puckered her lips slightly and leaned inwards.

"It's too soon, the placement on his hands makes it clear he's not attracted to her as much as she thinks. His eyes have not flickered to her chest, though she is flaunting her breasts infront of him."

"Yes well neither did yours when she walked in naked." John replied icily, in truth he was simply worried. Irene could not mess this up, her career depended on it.

John and Sherlock grew silent as David stood up taller, so his head was looming above Irene's. Then he reached forward and pushed her hair behind her ear.

"Yes, maybe we-" Then they could hear no more.

"Shit he's taken out the ear piece, he knows." John begun to panic. Irene stood, still trying to maintain her image, though it had been broken. With his hand on her back, David led Irene towards the elevators situated in the lobby.

"I'll go in the elevator with them, you take the stairs." Sherlock didn't wait for a surprise before slipping into the crowd. John turned abruptly, not allowing himself to think and hurried to the servant's quarter where a long set of stairs sat. John pushed the door in and stood, the dark empty stairs echoing his footsteps. John tapped the ear piece, willing for it to work.

"Sherlock?" He whispered. "Sherlock are you in?"

"63rd floor, what a coincidence I'm there as well." Sherlock entered the elevator almost the minute it began to close, no one inside could push him out in time. The elevator began moving and Sherlock held his hands behind his back, attempting nonchalance.

"Quite the party wouldn't you say?" Sherlock didn't turn back but he could feel Irene's fear. They had put her in too early and in something too dangerous.

"Yes, it is." David replied, Sherlock noted from the tiny reflective surfaces in the buttons that David held a hand behind Irene's back, but it was not touching her. Sherlock easily identified as the object he was holding to be a gun.

John looked up at the never ending stairs. Floor 1 to floor 63? John could never do that, he had less than 60 seconds to formulate a plan, he would have to be a Dalek to get up there fast enough. John glanced around him until his eyes fell upon the window. He shrugged. Easy enough.

"Well, this is me.." Sherlock exited the elevator and walked on forward as though they were not behind him. He turned a corner and then stopped, he stood still for a few seconds until he heard voices, they were growing closer and closer. Sherlock turned and grabbed onto the handle that had been digging into his back. He opened the door quickly and slipped silently into the supply room. He heard voices being carried past the door till he could no long hear them.

"John, where are you? Don't say you took the stairs." Sherlock spoke as loudly as he dared.

"No, turn around."

Sherlock turned, as was instructed and John Watson hung just outside the window. Sherlock hurried towards it and opened it up for him. John slipped inside and Sherlock helped unbuckle the belt. It was on tightly, pulling his pants down and zipper. Sherlock's hands fumbled with the buckle, it was odd, being to close to John in such a private place. John sighed and pushed Sherlock away.

"Where are they?" John asked as he undid himself.

"Outside." Sherlock turned and pressed his ear against the door. "Gone." He listened a bit more till he was certain. "How did you know this was the 63rd floor?" Sherlock asked.

John stalked towards the door and gently pushed Sherlock aside, he slipped the door open, poked his head out and turned around. "Lucky guess." He replied before slithering out. Sherlock followed his lead.

John stood in the hallway, unsure of where to go.

"Which way?" He turned to Sherlock. Sherlock pointed towards the left.

"Lestrade, can you see us?" John asked.

"Yup, I lost connection a few minutes ago when you were in that cupboard but I have you again. They went into room-"

"203." Sherlock finished for him.

"Dammit Sherlock, every time?"

"What's the plan?" John asked. Sherlock slipped his head around the corner and glanced at room 203. Outside stood the bodyguards, armed with guns.

"Hold my hand." Sherlock stuck out his hand. John hesitated, watching it as though Sherlock's hand might explode.

"Why?" John asked tentavly.

"Because for the next 2 minutes were are in a relationship." Sherlock replied simply, as though it were fact.