Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock
A/N: Please review. Also any questions, concerns or suggestions are welcome in my in box. I am looking for a Beta.
John did not realize what he was getting into when he agreed to accompany (as a friend!) Holmes to the Captain's dinner. He knew that he was going to get the 'does he belong here with us looks?' but John had not been prepared for the rest of it.
Really, he had forgotten about most anything else other than the proposal from Holmes' to be his flatmate once they arrived in London. This is ridiculous. I don't even know the man. I only met him, 42 hours ago! Yet the most insistent part of his brain was thrilled at the prospect. He had told Holmes' that his plan was to open a practice but that did not mean that he wanted to open one. It was a necessity, and an evil one at that.
John straightening his bow tie and took one final critical look in the mirror. His mustache was pointed so sharp it could cut someone and he had shaved so close that there wasn't a single piece of stubble. His hair was slicked back and he had used a subtle amount of cologne. The part that worried John the most was that the tuxedo was almost more than five years old and with the constant changing fashion, John was sure he would look outdated.
Especially standing next to Sherlock.
If the cut of his regular suits was going to be any indication, than his tuxedo(s) was sure to be immaculate and of the highest fashion. John bit his lower lip. It was a foolish thought but what if he embarrassed Holmes with his outfit? He couldn't bear the humiliation. For more than the first time that evening, John wondered if he should just decline the invitation.
A knock came at the side door.
"Enter."
John let out a shuttering breath as the doorknob turned.
John tried his hardest not to gasp. Oh, god. He could not believe the vision that stood before him. The tuxedo looked as if it was a second skin and the top hat only accented his curls. Holmes' had not put any product in his hair and the mass seemed less tame than usually, which only caused him to look more alluring.
Holmes' cheeks were a rosy pink. They brought attention to his cheekbones and John realized there was another feature of Holmes that he still had yet to discover. The longer he looked, the more difficult John found it to not want to brush his hand through those curls and cup Sherlock's cheeks to see how sharp they really were.
"Doctor, I must say you look dashing."
Sherlock could barely keep it out of his eyes-that the real reason his cheeks were flushed was from seeing Watson. Sherlock had never known that a human being could look so sexual and yet boyish at the same time. The most beautiful aspect about John's person was that he never assumed he was handsome or deserved praise. Sherlock found that the information he had stored earlier, when they had been sitting on John's bed together, came back in a flood. Deep crystal blue eyes. Warm breath.
"Holmes are you alright?"
Sherlock re-adjusted his eyes to focus on the man next to him.
"Shall we be going?" Sherlock gestured to the front door of John's cabin.
John misread Holmes' earlier silence as shock inducted by seeing his ill-fitting dining dress. Before Holmes had walked more than a foot to the door, John voiced his uncertainty. "I won't embarrass you, will I?"
Holmes turned back to face him, confusion in his features but it disappeared quickly. "Whatever for? You look the picture of daring suave." Holmes turned back to the door and opened it before John could say another word.
"This is my companion, Doctor John Watson. My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is a pleasure to met your acquaintance Captain Martin." The Captain gave each of them a hearty handshake and they sat down at the table.
It was an intimate affair with only sixteen guests. John guessed that it made up the wealthiest and most pompous of the passengers on the Nautilus. This was not a 'meal among friends' but a 'let us see what connections I can make' sort of affair. John took a larger than necessary sip of the champagne that had just been opened and poured into his crystal wine glass.
He was slowly introduced to the other dinner guests. A member of parliament, a predominate automaton mechanic, a famous pilot and a noble prize winning scientist, were among the few impressive titles he heard. John tried to remember their names but knew it was a loss cause.
"It is very nice to add your company to our own Mr. Holmes. You and your brother are a constant topic. How is your brother, Mycroft Holmes?"
Holmes' eyes tightened around the edges. "I do not believe that my brother needs to be a topic at this table."
John was surprised to see that the man did not look offended but instead had a knowing smile on his lips.
"While your brother might not be a topic that can be broached, how is your mother? I so miss her dinner parties. Do you believe she will be entertaining again this season?"
Holmes closed his eyes, evidently gathering strength not to lash out at the poor man. "As stated, I do not think my family, in any capacity, needs to be mentioned. I was unaware that this invitation was just an excuse to inquire as to my families actions."
John quietly took another sip of his champagne. Who was Sherlock Holmes, that all these wealthy, influential people wanted to know about every member of his family? It struck John like a ton of bricks and nearly kicked the oxygen out of his lungs.
They were asking all these questions because Sherlock was one of them too. The upper crust, the movers of the chess game. What had he gotten himself into?
"My apologizes, Mr. Holmes, that wasn't our intention." Captain Martin made a placating smile at his guests. "Let us start with the hors d'oeuvres."
The meal was spent in sociable but rigid conversation. John was happy that Holmes was there or else the meal would have been utter hell. Holmes had taken to making side remarks that only John could hear and although they had horrified him at first, it was now the only thing keeping John from stabbing his eye with a fork from boredom. It had been a deduction here or a snide remark there and it made John giggle like he was in primary school all over again.
"So, Doctor Watson, you were in the military?"
John stopped mid-smirk, (Holmes had just told him that the Captain's 'date' was a paid woman) to try and look the professional role. "Yes, I served in her royal majesties army as a surgeon in Afghanistan."
Some of the women gasped. One of them exclaimed, "It must have been so terrifying!"
"Danger does not frighten the good doctor; in fact, it does the opposite."
John turned to Holmes, at a lose for words. Thankfully the parliament member's wife spoke. "I am surprised to learn that you were in the military. You clean up so nicely. Some of the 'army types' can be so brass and uncivilized. What does your family do?"
John Watson tried to keep the critical look out of his face. How was he suppose to answer such a rude question? Next they were going to ask to see his certificate of pedigree.
"My dear madam, as my family is my personal business, so is John's to him. All you need to know, is that he is an exceptional man and I am proud that he allows me to call him friend."
Holmes had saved him again. John was flabbergasted.
Sensing the drastic change in atmosphere, the Captain cleared his throat. "Mr. Holmes, why don't you tell us the details of the man you found? I believe you said he was murdered?"
This caused the women to gasp even louder.
Sherlock harpooned a brussels sprout. "No, not a murder. It was just a heart attack, as the MediAuto stated. Who am I to challenge an automaton?"
The mechanic laughed. "A very true statement my good sir. Those machines are worth more than half the man on the force. As a Maker, I have every confidence in their ability to outwit most."
Captain Martin nodded his head approvingly. "I am happy that you saw the error of your ways. It takes a gentleman to admit when he has been bested."
Sherlock raised his wine glass in mock salute.
The mechanic turned to the man on his right. "Professor Moriarty, I believe that you as well have some history as a Maker?"
The man expelled a boring sounding sigh. He had been the most quiet of the guests through the whole dinner, barely having said two sentences.
"Yes, my past work was with mechanics. As of late, I have advanced to more elegant fields of work."
Sherlock let out a chuckle and John felt a pang of jealousy.
"I actually helped develop the Nautilus. However, I do not consider her my crowning achievement."
"Might I ask what that is?" Sherlock genuinely asked.
Professor Moriarty smiled in a way that reminded John of the young man who had tried to poison him. "Spoilers. As you do not wish to talk of your family, nor do I wish to discuss my work."
John's eyes darted between the two men. There was a silent conversation going on between the two of them but John could only catch the static.
By the time dessert arrive, John was more than ready to call it a night. However, due to propriety (and the fact that he could not leave before Holmes) he nipped at his Crème brûlée in a half-hearted manner. Holmes had shifted his attention from the doctor to the professor, and John was none to pleased about it. He tried to chat up the young woman next to him. Not to make Holmes jealous. How long has it been since I talked to a pleasant young woman? I will enjoy this. Yet his words sounded forced in his own mind.
To John's displeasure he soon learned that the young woman, Ms. Morstan, was as two-dimensional as a person could be. John Watson was a great lover of feminine features, but only when it was accompanied with a personality. Ms. Morstan was trying too hard to laugh at every joke and although it seemed like polite curiosity, all the questions she was asking him felt like prying.
"Come Watson, let us retire. I bid you all a fine and restful remainder of the evening."
John was all to happy to pop up from his chair. He made empty promises to call on Ms. Morstan at a later time and made a hasty retreat.
John followed Holmes into his cabin without even thinking. Holmes walked over to his violin and being to play a low mournful tune. John had not really heard what Holmes was capable of with a violin before, but within a few minutes he realized Holmes could join any orchestra is he so desired. He let his mind move past those thoughts and John closed his eyes. The music began to vibrate in his veins and transport him to another place.
John began to see visions of colors and his body felt electric shots of fire throughout it, starting from his limbs and radiating in and then back out. Sherlock was such an unpredictable man. John had gathered that 'social graces' was not something he was skilled at and yet Sherlock made every effort to comfort, protect and please him. His arms uncrossed themselves and John could feel the tension leaving his body. He was slowly falling asleep in the over stuffed chair; the dinner party had gone on well past 11 pm.
He was right on the brink of sleep when a sweet voice brought him back to reality.
"The Captain, he knows."