The disguise hadn't worked. They saw through it in an instant. Somehow the master of disguise was now attempting to explain to a bouncer why he actually belonged in the VIP section of a glitzy club. Apparently the top hat, cape, shiny waistcoat, tuxedo, and pompous attitude weren't enough. He brandished his Manhattan as he spoke.
"I am Sir James Clarkson, and you will let me through!"
"I'm sorry, sir, you're not on the list."
Sherlock faked indignation (but he didn't have to try very hard). "How can I not be on the list?" He needed to be in the room with the VIPs as any minute now Lestrade would arrive and start arresting the people in there—Sherlock needed to be able to provide his element of proof. Even more irritatingly, John had managed to get in disguised as waitstaff. So now only the detective in his disguise stood outside. His temper was rising.
"Because someone didn't put you down," replied the bouncer. Sherlock clicked his tongue.
"Obviously. I'm going to have to have a chat about that. I'm supposed to be on the list. I'm meant to be in a very important meeting."
"Sir, I wasn't going to say this as it might prove an embarrassment, but I don't think that you're really a VIP. You're just a strange man in some fancy clothes who thinks he can just waltz in and—"
The music shut off as the police entered. People ran for the exit in a blind panic.
"Everyone remain calm," Lestrade shouted. "We're not here to arrest you." The police walked up the path to the VIP room, where Lestrade looked at Sherlock in mirth for a few seconds. Sherlock's eyes made it clear what he was thinking—"Yes, I know, but move on, you have a drug dealer to catch."
The door swung open and a man on the couch jumped up and headed toward the door where a waiter named John Watson blocked him.
"Don't," said John simply. The man turned around, his hands up. They'd caught him, even with Sherlock's failed attempt at a disguise. John, who hadn't seen Sherlock's outfit before, burst into giggles. This understandably annoyed Sherlock.
"What are you wearing?"
"I saw it on telly, on a red carpet premiere show." Sherlock sniffed in indignation.
"Really?" John was skeptical. "An orange cape and a top hat."
"Yes, thought it would be perfect for a clubbing VIP."
John snorted his laughter. "You've never been to a club before, have you?"