A/N: I think I've decided to change this a bit. As in give it a pairing. We'll see how far it goes with Sherlock and this other person though. I'm not sure it'll go anywhere at all, but we shall see. Still John/Sarah though. Anyway, enjoy this chapter! (is anyone reading this? hmm. silent reviewers. :( )

I don't own Sherlock.

"It's not the clothes that I care about. You know very well that I have clothing for such an occasion."

"Yes, and you know it's not the clothes I care about either. I don't think Blackford would care at all if you showed up in a simple paper bag. He'd probably be more entertained that way. And no, Sherlock, that was not a suggestion."

"Too bad," John muttered under his breath, a small smile on his face. "That would be interesting to see."

"Don't encourage him, John." Lestrade shot him a look in which his face spelled anger but his eyes gave him away. He was just as amused by the idea. Still, the man's face darkened after a second. If Sherlock actually did that, he'd become the joke of the office, regardless of fulfilling Blackford's wish. "Sherlock, really, I don't see why you're being so difficult."

"It's quite simple, really, I doubt I need to explain it to you. I have no desire to go. Boring. Dull. And what would I do there? I don't dance and will not," Sherlock shrugged, his tone almost bored. His calculating eyes caught the look Lestrade had shot at John but chose to ignore the comment. Of course he had slightly more pride than that. Showing up in a paper bag? Really?

"You don't have to dance, Sherlock, if you don't-"

"Of course I do. It's part of a retirement ball. If I show up I'll be expected to meet Blackford. Fine. I shall then be expected to dance and join the man for supper or something of the like."

"Okay, maybe. So I can't promise that you won't have to dance. I still don't see it, Sherlock, what's the big deal?" Lestrade stared at the other man quizzically, the same look mirrored by John. Really, this could all be in Sherlock's benefit - so why on Earth was he so adamant in his refusal?

"It's not important," he replied shortly. "I simply do not want to go."

"Sure it is. What's the problem?" It was John's turn to speak now. He seemed more concerned than anything, though there was a hint of confusion in his voice. Obviously there were reasons for Sherlock not dancing, but simply not going made no sense at all. "Are you worried that you'll have no one to go with?"

Sherlock's head snapped in his direction at this and he instantly knew he hit a nerve. John started to speak, attempting to correct himself, only to be cut off by Sherlock himself. "I suppose that would be a reason, yes. It's not appropriate to arrive alone at an event like this. Especially considering I'd rather not have to fend off the other lone wolves, so to speak. Mm. Yes, I suppose you're somewhat right there, John, though that's not really a principal reason."

Something in his words told otherwise, though thankfully Lestrade didn't pick up on this. John nodded slowly. His mind worked about as fast as he guessed Sherlock's did on a slow day, going through a list of women in his head. After a few seconds of silence he shrugged and began to list aloud. "Hmm. Mrs. Hudson?… no, too old. Donovan? …wait, you hate each other. Oh, Sherlock, what about Molly?"

"Molly?" he asked incredulously. "The girl who works in the morgue? I'm not sure what to make of that suggestion, Doctor."

"Make of it what you will," Lestrade cut in, "but you can't say no to this, Sherlock. If going alone is your problem, then find a solution. You can't skip out on this. I would beg if it would make you feel better even."

"And you're suggesting that my solution here is Molly," Sherlock said slowly. He was obviously thinking, though the others in the room couldn't even begin to guess the battle in his mind. At least they'd gotten to the root of the problem.

"I could ask her for you," John offered. "I could stop by the morgue tomorrow morning on my way to see Sarah. It wouldn't be any hassle, and I'm sure she'd say yes."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Are you blind, Sherlock? Ah, nevermind… is that a yes or a no?"

"That's a 'do what you will', I still don't want to go," Sherlock argued, stepping around the other men to pick up his violin. He fell roughly into his chair. Lestrade looked panicked for a moment, realizing what this meant. He was supposed to leave now, the discussion really was closed.

"Alright, Sherlock, you're going. Got it? John, don't forget Molly. Thank you, gentlemen."

And with that, he was gone, leaving a dumbfounded Sherlock and a chuckling John behind him.