~Queen Of Hearts~

Mary had been standing outside for only a few minutes now. She had assumed Sherlock would drag his feet so she had arrived late herself. She was wearing a deep red wine coloured dress that matched John's burgundy bowtie and jacket. The mask she chose for the evening was small but gold embellishments gave it an understated elegance against the black material that covered only her eyes. A single red feather came from the left hand side of the mask close to her temple and swirled past her head giving her an extra inch of height or so.
She was holding Johns mask in her hand. She had chosen it for him. When John had first seen it next to hers he thought it rather plain. It was black with just a few swirls of gold originating on the right hand side. Mary didn't think it plain. She thought it was quietly reserved but still strong and impactful, just like her husband.
When the three had arrived by taxi she was there waiting for them. Sherlock was the first to step out, he looked tall and as handsome as ever she noted. She was not surprised to see him then gently turn and hold his hand out for Mrs. Hudson. He helped her out of the car like the gentleman he actually was. John came out the other side and around the car. The moment Mary saw him she smiled, she had seen him in his suit before he had left their home but she had not fully appreciated it till just now. John met her eyes and stopped for a moment. She saw this, "Something wrong?"
Her husband looked very serious and thoughtful then said "No, no, it is just… just when I think there is no way she can be more beautiful, there you are, more beautiful than the day I met you, more beautiful than the day I married you, and now still even more beautiful then yesterday. I just do not know how that can be Mrs. Watson" Mary had married a good man, and she knew she didn't deserve him.
He took his mask and placed it on. "Sherlock you too" John sternly told him.
Sherlock took it out of his pocket and rubbed a gloved finger around the brim of the simple black domino mask and contemplated. "Come on now, this is the first night John and I have had out together since Margaret was born. You are not going to spoil this Sherlock Holmes. Put it on so we can make our fashionably late entrance." Mary was already starting to walk towards the doors as she spoke. With a grunt of indignation he finally placed his mask on. "It all just seems silly and useless. Gambling, dressing up, wearing masks…"
"It is in honor of you, the masks give everything an air of mystery. You love a good mystery, tonight there will be hundreds of people all hiding behind masks and costumes, all of them a puzzle for you to solve and this time you can't just look at their clothes and faces to guess…"
"I never guess. Even a costume can be a portrait of oneself…" Sherlock cut Mary off.
"There will be dancing." Mary could swear she saw his eyes light up at that.
"If he musters up the courage to ask anyone" Mrs. Hudson laughed a little after saying this. This did not amuse Sherlock however.
"Sherlock Holmes the great detective. Brave enough to face criminal masterminds, take a bullet, die and come back from the dead but dare him to ask a girl for a dance and look at him he goes as white as a ghost." John could never resist having a little fun at Sherlock's expense.
"The woman you will be dancing with this evening is the very one who shot that bullet I took. So forgive me if perhaps I am weary of matters of the heart. It can cloud your judgment…" now John cut him off. "We know you ruddy robot, now come on we are as late as could be still acceptable."
John walked ahead of them; Mary was at Sherlock's side now "I'll dance with you. John is an awful dancer no matter how much you tried to teach him" she whispered as they shared a smile. All had and was forgiven between them. The two would make comments behind Johns back to make the other smile or laugh. John would on occasion catch something one of them would say and they would get his best disapproving dad look which would just make them laugh more. "There really won't be hundreds of people here do you think?" he asked her and Mary could swear she heard panic in his voice. "You will be fine, just stay with John and I."
Though he scorned all ideas of romance he understood the mechanics of it all. He understood how people were supposed to be and act even if he himself did not practice any of these rituals or customs. Mary and John wouldn't want him hanging about them all evening. He knew Mrs. Hudson would start with one glass of wine that would turn into three well before even she realized. Lestrade and Molly Hooper were actually overseeing the whole event. They were there to raise money for the police and St. Barts Hospital. Sherlock brought the two causes together being a consulting detective and his involvement and learning at St. Barts.
It was an idea Molly had come up with after working so closely all these years with Sherlock and Lestrade. They were raising money for all different kinds of research and new equipment for the police force. Sherlock had not really paid all that much attention to what this was all for. He was there because Molly had asked, and Molly had done so much for him. She thought having him there that his name would draw more people in. She wasn't wrong. The hall was large enough to fit five hundred people Sherlock knew without even needing to see the maximum occupancy sign that was usually found along the wall somewhere. He figured they would reach that limit soon enough. There were already close to 400 people in attendance and it was just the beginning of the evening.
They had saved him the embarrassment of an announced entrance. Still everyone turned when he walked in. They were all shooting glances toward the doors waiting for the moment he would appear. Luckily he was such a domineering figure that people did not all rush to him right away. He was able to cross the dance floor uninterrupted to the other side where he would greet the few people he actually did know and could tolerate. They would all keep their distance for now. He knew though that as the evening wore on and more drinks were poured their unease with him would diminish, alcohol lowered inhibitions and IQ's. These people he already dismissed for being unintelligent where just going to get stupider as the night wore on.
Tonight was not the evening for this. He was already agitated and something was making him uneasy. No uneasy wasn't the word, he was excited, and a little nervous. Not for the inane prattle he was bound to have to sit quietly through. Such a large event like this focused on him was going to be hard for a man like James Moriarty to miss. He did have a flair for the dramatic and this evening with everyone in costume, the dimly lit hall, the crowd, music, and all of their eyes on him he was sure that Moriarty would finally make an appearance. Moriarty would let him down on this night at least. Though something was about to happen that would make up for it and Sherlock for once, was completely unaware.
Two excruciating hours had passed. He knew that he should let Mary and John have some time together to enjoy their evening out, but he also knew they would not turn him away. So he stayed close to them and would feign interest in whatever the pair was saying or doing if he saw someone coming towards them with intentions of trying to chat him up. He gave no sign of how uncomfortable he felt as women stared at him with lust filled eyes or as men glared with a mix of jealousy and admiration and even a few of them seemed to have lust in their eyes as well.
Games were set up around the dance floor. Just the typical casino games roulette, blackjack, poker, etc… Currently Mary and John were trying their hand at the blackjack table. Everyone was betting liberally, John would say this was because it was for a good cause. Sherlock knew though it was due more to the flowing alcohol then the size of their hearts. He stood behind them, the dealer flipped a card. The cards in Johns hand's only totaled 12, the 7 of Diamonds and 5 of Clubs. The next card was a King of Diamonds, "22, player Bust"
"Well better luck the next round" Mary said off handedly rubbing her husband's back and with a glazed expression in her eyes. She really shouldn't have been drinking with a baby at home but she decided to sneak a few sips. It had been so long since she had been in the company of other adults and she was enjoying herself. John would stay the sober one this evening and take care of their daughter when they were back at home. She was allowing herself this night. For a woman who had been a trained assassin she was surprised how easily she had acclimated to civilian life and all its trappings.
While the two shared a moment forgetting Sherlock was there and turning back to the table to try their chance again a woman had silently come to stand next to Sherlock.
He heard her before he saw her which was strange unto itself for the man who noticed everything. "Your companion is going to win the next hand with the Queen of Hearts and the Ace of Spades." Her accent sounded slightly Irish and educated. Sherlock hadn't been keeping count of the cards he had no reason to. He glanced around the table. He didn't have enough information to make an informed deduction though, he would have needed to know what had already been played and how far into the deck they had gone. Without looking to his left where the stranger stood he said "With just the first two cards he is dealt?"
"Yes." He could hear in her voice that she was sure. Not just sure, to her it was just fact.
John was indeed dealt those two exact cards as the woman had said he would be. Sherlock thought that intriguing enough to at least turn toward her. What else had he heard in that voice though? She was bored. This woman was extremely bored.
She was gone now. Just as silently as she had come she left. He scanned the room; it was far too large a space with just as many people he wouldn't be able to spot her right away. He would try though. He thought maybe if he got higher though he could see more. Perhaps she was still walking away, would he be able to tell who she was without ever having looked at her?
He grabbed the closest chair and stood on the seat. It made him a few feet taller than the rest of the crowd. Others had taken notice though and now he heard John telling him to get down. When Sherlock ignored him John pulled him down. "When you do things like that it gets people worried" John informed him, "So how about you tell me, should they be worried?"
"No… maybe" he said still distracted still searching. "There was a woman…"
"A woman? The Woman?" John was as confused as he was shocked. "Did you ask her to dance?" he joked.
"No not her, another woman… Queen of Hearts."
That got John's eyebrows to rise. "The Queen of Hearts?"
Before John could question or mock him further Sherlock had already started to walk away from him. It may not be as good of a puzzle that he was use to but he was determined to find that woman by the end of the evening. He could tell from her voice she was between the ages of 25 and 39 which eliminated much less then he had hoped. Many women had shown up this night to get a good look at the handsome detective.
For a man who had so dreaded even the idea that a stranger may try to speak with him this night he was now talking to every strange woman in the room that could have been her. Mary and John watched confused and somewhat concerned. Though they couldn't figure out for whom to be concerned for, Sherlock or the unsuspecting woman he would start to chat up and then just as abruptly walk away from.
"How are you this fine evening?" he would ask and after just a few syllables were allowed to escape their mouths he would walk away. Leaving some of them standing there blushing not believing that he had spoken to them and ignoring the fact that he was asking a question and then not sticking around long enough to get the answer.
He was getting more frustrated as time went on. Some women he just grabbed by their shoulders gave them a once over and moved on. He became aware of the time, it was 11:30 almost and he did not want to be there one second longer then he knew he had to be. He stopped in the middle of the dance floor to regroup. He closed his eyes and gathered himself, what did he know what didn't he know? She was a young clever bored woman. His eyes shot open. There were ornate glass doors in the back of the hall that led off to a garden. People could wander in and out for fresh air. It was the simplest answer so of course he had over looked it.
The moment he walked beyond the doors he felt better. Mostly everyone was inside now drunk, dancing, or gambling. He wished he could have spent his evening out here in the cold instead of the warm crowded hall but John would never have allowed it. There were a few paths but he knew to go to the farthest deepest one where no one else could see.
There she was. He first only saw her from behind. She was in deep emerald. The dress was Victorian with black lace accents, and her hair was a chestnut brown styled up. Then he noticed the tendril of gray smoke rising into the air. She was out there smoking even though there were signs all around that it was prohibited even out here in the garden. She was bored, clever, Irish, and a smoker.
"Are you illiterate or just have a disregard for the law?" He asked as he approached her. To his surprise she did not even flinch at the sound of his voice or turn. "I only regard the law when it is of importance. You and I both know how rare it is when that is actually the case though Mr. Holmes." Her mask was off and before he could approach her she was placing it back on.
She turned to face him then. He was genuinely surprised and even a little unnerved to see the style of mask she had on this evening. A plague mask, it covered almost all her face and where he should be able to see her eyes he could only see more black. A fine mesh was stretched over the holes. She could see out but you couldn't see in.
She offered him a cigarette from a gloved hand. Her dress and even the garments she wore under them all adhered to one period. The gloves though were modern well worn leather. They were a deeper colour then John's blazer from this evening. He took it and kept his eyes fixed on where hers were supposed to be. He could read nothing else about this woman from her appearance. She had made an effort to make sure that he couldn't glean anything to personal about her. That within itself gave him some information though. Even her tone was flat. "So you found me. Took you much longer than I expected it would. Then again it seems obvious I would come out here. Did you over think it?"
He had over thought it. Had she been out here waiting for him this entire time? If she was cold she did not look it. She had had a black wrap but it couldn't have been doing much for her. Without realizing it he was already taking off his coat to offer her. "No thank you Mr. Holmes that is quiet alright. Thank you though for being a gentleman. Your reputation has not preceded you"
"Gossip and rumors are always preferable to the truth Miss?" he asked.
"Tonight? Tonight you can call me Envy." Her voice sounded playful there.
"So Envy, though that is not your real name. Come to test me, see if I am as good as they say?"
"I know you are as good as they say. I wonder if you are as good as you think you are though."
"I sometimes still even surprise myself" he retorted.
"Does anything really surprise you anymore Mr. Holmes?"
"Sherlock, it is Sherlock."
"Not tonight it isn't" she smiled. He sensed danger now. This woman was much cleverer than he had been able to pick up on at first. She was reading a script that he did not know the lines to, but she knew them all.
"Then what is my name?"
"Mr. Holmes"
"Did Moriarty send you?"
She laughed a genuine full hearty laugh. "If you think James Moriarty is the only danger out there to you and your little group of friends you are going to be sadly and very mistaken." She had chosen her words carefully.
"Are you that danger then?"
"No. Well I would say no, others may say yes. Even I do not know yet myself."
"What should I take that to mean then?"
"Whatever your little brain cares to imagine. That is not the point of all this. Now you are here to ask me a question. You should ask before it is too late, it is after all almost midnight." He could not see her smiling. The beak of the bird like mask covered all but her chin and the top of her forehead. Lingering there he could tell she was also wearing a wig. Her voice was muffled. She had not been wearing the mask when she had first approached him in the hall. If he had just bothered to glance over…
"Do you turn back into a pumpkin or a pauper at midnight?" he felt at ease with this woman which then made him feel uneasy.
'Neither but everything will have changed by then." If he had been able to see her mouth he could have seen her smile turn down to a frown. He did hear something in her voice; it was beyond sadness, regret. She did not want whatever was about to happen to actually happen. This particular woman knew though that sometimes unpleasant things were unavoidable. She had been avoiding this for years now and part of her was relieved that it finally was about to all start coming together. Staying away from him for this long had hurt her. She had not expected it to.
He did not know exactly what he was meant to ask. So he asked the only question he could think of. "Would you care to dance?"
"Yes Mr. Holmes. I expect we would both like that very much."
He presented his arm like he had with Mrs. Hudson and she took it. Something made him feel wrong. Like the sense of danger a child gets only after they have taken candy from the stranger, and by then it's already too late. It was already too late; he had asked a woman to dance. He thought then that he might have asked the wrong one too.
They walked back in and through the crowd with arms still interlocked and straight to the dance floor. He turned to her but she did not immediately turn herself. Her head moved side to side looking, she was waiting for something. The song currently playing was now fading; perhaps she was waiting for the next to play. Silence for a moment and then the strum of a somber guitar began. She turned and took his bare hand in her gloved and placed his other upon her hip. She laid her other hand on his shoulder. The song began and so did they. Somehow just sensing the movements the other was about to make and allowing for it.

I was five and he was six
We rode on horses made of sticks
He wore black and I wore white
He would always win the fight

Nancy Sinatra sang through the audio system.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

She had chosen this particular song for this particular moment. She saw his eyes darting back and forth. He was thinking, trying to find some connection to the music. Maybe some meaning in the words, a code?

Seasons came and changed the time
When I grew up, I called him mine
He would always laugh and say
"Remember when we used to play?"

By now others had taken notice that the evenings honored guest was dancing silently and effortlessly with an unknown and bizarrely masked woman. "John?" Mary said perplexed. He had his back to the dance floor and began to turn following Mary's pointed finger. It wasn't Irene Adler alias The Woman; John could see that from their height difference. This woman was shorter and she looked longer legged. He had to admit though Sherlock was an excellent dancer, and he seemed to have found himself an equal. They moved in tight circles around the floor and every so often he would lift her slightly from the ground by the hips while they turned. John didn't know exactly what this dance would have been called, a type of waltz he assumed.
The song was putting off most of the crowd they seemed to not know exactly what movements to make to the melancholy tempo. The other couples were giving them a wider berth and they were taking advantage of it. The lifts were higher and they were reaching their arms longer out with hands cupped. Sherlock was always a commanding figure but to see all that intensity turned into a beautiful focused dance was a sight. Maybe it was the distance or the alcohol she had enjoyed but Mary could swear Sherlock was enjoying himself too, genuinely enjoying himself. The song was odd though she thought.

Bang bang, I shot you down
Bang bang, you hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, I used to shoot you down.

The back of the hair on John's neck began to stand on end. Something about the song and the woman made him weary. He was fighting the urge to run over and separate the two. Sherlock wasn't someone who needed protecting usually. He could have over taken most of the men in the room and not just with physicality and brute force. Sherlock fought smart. This woman, for some reason John was sure, fought dirty.
"You've done this dance before?" The right side of Sherlock's mouth turned up and so did his eyebrow.
"Yes we have" she stated.
"We?" he asked. His mind was racing threatening to take him out of the moment. He was trying to focus on everything trying to find the meanings and connections hidden under it all. Envy, to be envious he thought. She was wearing green, green with envy. Prideful came to mind, pride comes before a fall. He had fallen, off a building, or he had made it to look so. Sins no… this was all too broad. "Narrow it down" Mycroft's voice always whispering in his head challenging him.

Music played, and people sang
Just for me, the church bells rang.

Now he's gone, I don't know why
And till this day, sometimes I cry
He didn't even say goodbye
He didn't take the time to lie.

The song was winding down. Sherlock had enjoyed dancing with her. He was still no closer to figuring out who this stranger might be when he started to dip her. She took her right hand from his and cupped his face before the pair gracefully settled into a back bending bow. He almost dropped her. John could see from across the room the slightest change in Sherlock's demeanor. She was wearing perfume just a few small sprits on her neck and wrists. He had smelled it before but had not let himself properly process it.
She smelled warm, a mix sandalwood and vanilla. His body grew cold before his mind could make the connection. A scent he had chosen for her. He called his brain his Mind Palace. There were rooms, many rooms in his palace. Some were locked and some were not. The room he kept her in, memories of her, was a locked one. That door had just burst open.
She saw this in his eyes and felt it in the slight shiver that had gone through his body. She had placed her hand on his chest now and could even feel the moment where his heartbeat faltered. Luckily he had not dropped her. She was smiling under that mask, much larger now, to large. It was a crocodile's smile, to many teeth. That is when she finally did bite. "A boy only buys perfume for a girl he fancies" she whispered, her Irish accent now gone as they came back into a standing position. He was holding her wrist tight now. She wiggled free and stepped away from him. He went to step toward her but found he could not. She was using her normal accent now, she sounded much like him.
"It is useless. You are about to fall. Try not to choke on your tongue. I suggest falling on your side if you can. Don't worry it is just a toxin that immobilizes you for a few hours. It will wear off. There is also a chance though you may have a very bad reaction to it. I am sure your dear one Dr. Watson will attend to you. I am glad we got to dance together again." His eyes were darting back and forth the only part of him he could still move pleading for someone to notice. Someone had, John was starting to make his way toward them.
She followed his eyes. "Someone is always interrupting us. Before I go though Sherlock…" she had not said his name till now and he knew why. If she had said it he would have known it was her. "I just have to ask, did you miss me?"
He couldn't answer and she knew it. She turned then and was briskly walking away into the crowd of hundreds. John was unable to reach him before he fell. The last thing he heard was John screaming his name, and the last thing he saw was everyone stopping to turn and watch as he fell.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, my baby shot me down...