Friday morning found Sherlock in a black sedan, uncomfortably seated next to Mycroft on their way to the Holmes mansion. John, Mary, and Molly followed behind in a second car, which was putting the detective in an increasingly sour mood as he stared out at the passing countryside. Mycroft sighed as his brother began furiously tapping away on his mobile.

"Oh, be quiet, Mycroft," spat the detective.

"Who, me?" asked Mycroft with a tone of fake astonishment. "Brother mine, I am always quiet."

"You will be once I murder you," came the immediate response.

"Now, now, Sherlock, let's not start before we've even seen Mummy," Mycroft said playfully.

"Why not?" answered Sherlock. "Especially when we both know that Mummy always liked me-"

Both men were interrupted by text alerts from their mobiles. Two incredulous eyebrows were raised as two dark heads bent over two tiny screens. Sherlock's message was from Molly, while Mycroft's was from John.

Behave yourself. I can see you, you know. MH

Leave him alone, Mycroft. We need him in a pleasant mood for the Gala (and for Molly). JW

Sherlock twisted around in his seat. Sure enough, there was Molly Hooper, sitting in the passenger seat of the black car directly behind the Holmes brothers. She gave the detective a shy smile and a little wave. He smiled back, hesitated, then waved. Even from the back seat, Sherlock could tell Molly was blushing.

Neither brother spoke for the rest of the trip.

ooooo

Upon their arrival to the mansion, Mummy came to greet the entire party. To both of her sons' surprise, she was warm and even somewhat friendly, smiling and arranging for everyone's baggage to be brought to their rooms.

Once all had been successfully brought into the foyer, Amelia led a grand tour of the entire estate (which included a laboratory, a greenhouse, and a rather embarrassing trip to both of the boys' childhood bedrooms, among other things). As they wove in and out of corridors and chambers, Molly began to feel very, very small. This feeling intensified as they entered the ballroom, an enormous space with a huge marble staircase as the focal point.

"And here," Amelia paused, gesturing to the stairs, "is where the couples will be presented."

Molly's eyes widened as she whispered to Mary. "What does she mean, presented?"

Mary whispered back. "I think-" but was cut off by Amelia as she made another announcement.

"In order to ensure the success of tonight's event, we will now practice presentations. Mycroft, if you would be so kind as to call your lovely Anthea in from outside."

Mycroft smiled and sent a quick text to his personal assistant, who appeared next to him in a matter of minutes.

"The lady will begin at the top of the stairs, while the gentleman will wait for her at the bottom," Amelia narrated as the two took their places. "As the name of the couple is announced, the lady will begin to make her descent." Anthea picked up the hem of an imaginary skirt as she started towards Mycroft. "Ladies, please notice Anthea's impeccable technique," Amelia said as Anthea reached the bottom stair. "Finally, when the lady has reached her gentleman, he will escort her to their table." Mycroft extended his arm towards his personal assistant, who took it with a small smile as they walked to an imaginary table.

"See? Nothing to it!" Amelia finished with a smile. "John and Mary, would you like to go next?"

"Absolutely!" said John, moving to stand at the bottom.

As she watched, Molly became uneasy. The thought of descending stairs in a lavish ball gown while hundreds of people watched was scary, but doing so while Sherlock watched? Well, that was downright terrifying.

Mary smiled at the pathologist while she practiced to reassure her, but it didn't seem to do any good. By the time Mary had reached John, Molly's face had gone completely devoid of all color.

"Lovely! You did very nicely, Mary, and John - well, John is always a gentleman, isn't he?" Amelia gushed. "Alright, Sherlock and Miss Hooper, are you ready?"

Sherlock, who had been silent throughout the entire ordeal, nodded. As Molly passed him to start at the top of the stairs, he murmured "Relax. Focus on me." She took a deep breath and nodded before turning around at the top step.

"Go ahead, Miss Hooper," Amelia encouraged her. Molly smiled weakly before looking at Sherlock. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, and, hiking up her invisible skirt, the pathologist slowly made her way down the staircase.

The instant Molly took her first step, Sherlock managed to surprise the entire room (with the exception of Mycroft). His entire face lit up in a positively elated grin, instantly erasing the pathologist's nerves. She couldn't help but smile back as she took his arm, finishing her "practice round" perfectly.

"Wonderful!" beamed Amelia. "I think we can all expect a flawless Gala tonight." She paused to glance at her watch, sighing. "Unfortunately, I have an appointment to attend to, so you are all free to go - just remember, you must be in your positions and ready to go by six o'clock." She promptly turned and left in the direction of the foyer, her prim heels clicking on the hard floor as she went.

Seeing as it was already four, Mycroft suggested that the entire party begin to prepare themselves, to which the guests heartily agreed. Amelia had split the group according to gender, so Mary, Molly, and Anthea headed up to the women's rooms while Mycroft, John, and Sherlock left for the men's.

ooooo

The three women convened in Molly's room, each carrying a large assortment of beauty products and accessories. While Anthea spread out in the attached bathroom, Mary sat down on the four-poster bed next to Molly, brushing her hair as she asked, "So, what was that all about downstairs?"

Molly blushed, slipping her earrings into each ear. "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered indignantly.

Mary sighed and rolled her eyes, reaching for the curling iron. "You know, with Sherlock? Come on, Molls, you can't pretend that nothing happened!"

"I'm not," said Molly. "I'm just... He just wanted to make me less nervous, that's all." She turned around so Mary could zip up her dress.

"I agree," Anthea was fashioning her hair into an elaborate up-do, and her eyes sparkled as she added, "But once he sees you in that dress..."

"You two are impossible!" Molly threw up her hands.

Mary giggled. "Not impossible, just right, and you know it!" She set to work on Molly's hair, twisting and pinning every strand into place. The pathologist sighed as she slipped on her bedazzled heels, wondering if those men were being as incorrigible as these women were.

ooooo

"John, hold still," Mycroft said, trying to fix John's bow tie.

"Sherlock, are you ready yet? You've been in there for over an hour!" John called in the direction of the locked bathroom door.

"Just a minute," came a muffled response.

"For heaven's sake, Sherlock, how long do you need to put on a damn tuxedo?" Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, you git," the detective replied.

Finally, the door opened. "There," said John. "Are we - Oh my God, what the hell has gotten into your hair, Sherlock?" The detective had attempted to tame his unruly curls with multiple kinds of product, resulting in a flat, frightening mop of grease with cowlicks poking up every which way.

Mycroft turned at John's surprise, and both eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline at the sight of his brother. He smiled, saying, "That, dear brother, is sure to win the heart of your Miss Hooper, though it's not what I would have chosen, myself."

"Piss off, you-"

"Okay, that's it, I've had just about enough!" John's shout stunned both brothers into silence. "You," he said, pointing to Mycroft, "Sit." He pointed to the bed, and Mycroft sat. "I don't want another word from you, understand?" He nodded. "And you," he turned now to the detective. "Get your sorry arse back in that bathroom." Sherlock followed the ex-army doctor to the sink, where he proceeded to rinse every last remnant of gel, powder, and spray out of the detective's hair. He grabbed a towel and roughly dried the dark curls before pushing Sherlock in front of the mirror.

"Okay," John huffed. "Now you listen here. You are not going to fuck this up, understand? I don't know what possessed you to go screwing with your hair in the first place, but it doesn't matter. It's... 5:45, so we're going downstairs in a few. And when we do, you are going to smile and be polite and talk to everyone your mother introduces you to, no matter how idiotic they are, because Molly will be waiting at the top of those damned stairs for you and you will not disappoint her. You will not pull any kind of crap on me tonight, Sherlock Holmes. Do I make myself clear?" John stood with his arms crossed, patiently waiting for an answer.

Sherlock ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Yes, John. Crystal."

"Good. Then let's get both of you bastards into that ballroom before you rip each other's throat out."

ooooo

Some last-minute Gala preparations to build for next chapter. Fear not, dear readers - Chapter 5 will be posted tonight, as well! And yes, it's all Gala - no more suspense, I promise! (well, at least no more major suspense.)

Thank you all for your continued support and kind reviews. I would really love to hear feedback about this chapter in particular, as I think it's a bit different from the rest of the piece.

What are we most looking forward to in Chapter 5, hmm? :)

~London Belle