A/N: For my shameless references to Cabin Pressure props goes to John Finnemore.
If you have not yet listened to Cabin Pressure you should, it's really great.
"Her name was Lola,
she was a show girl
with yellow feathers in her hair
and dress cut down to there."– Barry Manilow
John was leaning over the sink getting as close to the mirror as possible. He had seen enough of his girlfriends do this to know proximity was key. Steadying his hand he let the tube of lipstick glide across his upper lip.
"They're playing your song." Sherlock's deep baritone rumbled.
"Shit Sherlock!" John said clutching at his chest, "you can't do that to people."
"Apparently, I can" was his smug reply as he leaned back against the counter. John looked back to the mirror with a frown.
"Damn" he hissed. He had been so focused on applying the colour to his bottom lip he hadn't even heard Sherlock enter and now a thick red line ran down his chin.
Now that his concentration had been broken John could indeed hear the faint notes belonging to The Kinks Lola. John hummed along as he gathered some paper towel and wet it. Sherlock flipped through his phone as John dabbed at his chin. Wait-
"Shh-Early" said John catching himself, "whose phone is that?"
"Mike's" Sherlock replied without looking up.
"Mike who?" John's brow furrowed.
"Hunt. Mr. Hunt. Its Hunt's phone" Sherlock spat out suddenly flustered.
"You're on a first name basis with the owner of a drag club?" John inquired, his recently plucked eyebrows disappearing under the curly fringe of his wig.
"Problem?" Sherlock inquired.
"Nope" John shook his head; he would never understand why Sherlock did the things he did.
"Something is not right here, Lola, I can tell. I'm starting to build a theory but we need more facts. We should ask around see if anyone else has gone missing."
"You think Hunt's involved?" John asked still swiping absently at his chin. All he's managed to do is make the whole thing red. He sighed in defeat.
"Could be" Sherlock shrugged. "He only bought this place three months ago. The previous owner ran a tight ship but Hunt's records are lacking. Here let me." Sherlock took a small bottle of make-up remover and cotton pad out of his purse. He soaked the pad and taking John's chin in his long violist fingers began dabbing at the red mess as he continued to explain his theory.
"Attendance to the club has gone down since Hunt took over therefore his income should have gone down and yet he's still making enough to cover rent and other operational fees. I've been scanning the records on his phone and I just don't know where the money is coming from."
Sherlock had finished cleaning off John's chin and binned the pad. "You missed a spot." He added cheekily pointing out the half of John's bottom lip not covered in red gloss.
"Thanks. I hadn't noticed." John replied sarcastically turning his attention back to the mirror to finish the job.
"Ask around; see what you can find out. Well meet up again in say, half-an-hour? I have to get this back to Mike before he notices it's missing." Sherlock wiggled the phone in his hand, winking as he exited the door.
John turned to give himself the once over in the mirror. 'Damn' he thought, 'if I were a lady I'd date me.' Then he noticed his breasts were sagging, he pulled on the bra strap until it made a satisfying snap against his shoulder and his 'breasts' were more on par. Sherlock had come up with the rather brilliant idea of filling balloons with Jell-O and they fit neatly in the cups of the cheap bras he had picked up. Because they had poured the Jell-O into the balloons while it was still liquid and then set it in the fridge they held a nice firm shape. The left over Cherry Jell-O still sat in a bowl in the fridge.
When John exited the loo his song was over and two blokes were up singing along to Monty Pythons I'm a Lumber Jack, one had reddish-brown hair tied back in one long braid that nearly reached his bottom, he had on short-shorts, western style boots, a checkered crop top showed off his navel, and a straw Stetson donned his head. His partner wore a self-made red and black plaid flannel dress that stopped just shy of his knees with plain black heels. 'Bride' was up on stage between them, and they had their arms around each other's necks doing line kicks.
John surveyed the room looking for a good person to interview.
22:32hrs.
"Got anything?" John asked as Sherlock approached him. John had claimed one of the little tables in the corner to himself.
"Yes, you?" Sherlock asked taking a seat opposite.
"Yes. Had a lovely chat with a fellow named Sinderelle, that's S-I-N, he gave me this" John said holding up a picture for Sherlock to see. "Marcus Williams, 38, goes by the name 'Minnie.' He's been missing for over a month. Some of the regulars thought he found somewhere else to dance after Hunt took over." In the picture Marcus was wearing an orange sleeveless dress that set off his dark skin, and showed off his muscular arms. He wore his hair in a very 70's style afro. "Who've you got?"
"Martin Crieff, aka 'Gertie,' 31. He was reported missing two days ago by his mother who lives in Wokingham. He is the owner of a small moving company and when he didn't show up for one of his clients they called to complain only instead of reaching Crieff they got his mother. She's been worried sick ever since."
"How the blazes did you find out all that?" John was amazed he knew Sherlock was good but-
"I ran into his sister Caitlyn, she took a couple days off to come down and see if she could find him." Sherlock pointed his thumb in the direction of a very troubled looking woman who was arguing with a man in a bouncers outfit. She was being kicked out of the club for asking too many questions.
Sherlock's phone pinged and looked down to see he had received a new multi-media message.
It showed a picture of a man dressed in a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans leaning up against a white van with a logo painted on the side 'Icarus Removals' framed by a set of golden wings. A pair of aviator shades covered most of his face. His most distinguishing feature was the sprig of curly orange hair atop his head. A quick message underneath said 'please find him.'-CC
"Crieff?"
"It appears so. He must me quite short." Sherlock mused.
"How can you tell?"
"The angle the photo was taken, it's to make him look taller, but look how far he comes up to on the van."
"Not very" John noted.
"No." Sherlock agreed.
"So, three people, who all have connections to the same club, go missing within a few weeks of a new owner taking over." John summarized.
"Yes. Either they all saw something they shouldn't have or-"
"Or they're being held against their will." John finished.
"Oh, of course!" Sherlock experienced a mini A-ha moment. "Downstairs."
"Downstairs?"
"Downstairs."
"This place has a downstairs?" John asked.
"When I was sitting with Hunt earlier a staff member asked him if it was okay to show someone the merchandise they kept downstairs. I didn't think anything of it at the time, thought it might be old costumes or something like that but what if-"
"If it's people, like human trafficking or-?" John continued his line of thought.
"Or an illegal sex trade, with unwilling participants." Sherlock finished.
Sherlock surveyed the room looking for anywhere a hidden door might be, well, hidden.
"The dressing room" he hissed suddenly.
"The dressing room?"
"Yes, it's the only place in this building where a door could be leading to a lower level but-"
Looking around John came to the same conclusion "But the only door to the dressing room is from the stage."
"Precisely" a wicked grin crossed his face, "well Lola what do you say?"
"Oh no, don't look at me, Shirley."
"I need you to create a diversion so I can sneak into the dressing room. Do you want to save these people or not?"
John's gaze fell again to the stage where the Daisy Duke Wannabe was up singing along to the Proclaimers 500 Miles. John knew he was defeated; there was no point in even thinking up an argument.
Sherlock must have seen the look of consent on John's face because he clapped his shoulder and said in his encouraging voice "I've heard you sing in the shower, you'll be grand."
…..
"Bride" John discovered was a 25 year-old petite brunet named Ashleigh who was getting married in two days' time. She was out with her two sisters and three friends who would all be standing for her. They were having a truly fantastic time. John had eased into their conversation using his natural charm and luck with women.
"I was wondering if you'd like to do a song with me?" John asked shyly, he hadn't bothered with pitching his voice but was aiming for an air of modesty. "I saw you up there earlier and it looked like fun."
"You're new to this aren't you?" She asked with a smile, then grabbing his hand and led him over to the DJ booth to pick out a song.
"What about this one?" Ashleigh asked him, again.
John had already said no to three songs and was starting to feel the dirty looks Sherlock was throwing his way. He had to make a choice soon, and this was as good as any.
"Come on, you said you wanted something that would have everybody up on their feet, no one can resists dancing to this." She pleaded. She didn't mind getting up and singing with this man. He seemed nice if a little unsure of himself.
"Alright" John consented, with a nod of his head. A signal to let Sherlock know, the game was on.
A/N: Let the cameo's begin! I laid down what I thought were some fairly obvious hints but for those who want clarification and to know for sure the two guys singing to Monty Python are played by David Tennant and John Barrowman, Marcus/ Minnie is played by Noel Clarke who portrayed Mickey Smith on Doctor Who (Mickey=Minnie), and Martin Crieff is Benedict Cumberbatch's character on John Finnemore's Radio Play, Cabin Pressure. While his short stature is constantly referenced his hair colour is not. It is generally assumed he has Ben's natural hair colour.
Also "Bride" is based on my own Best Friend, Ashley, who is getting married later this summer. Congrats again love!
