"Natalie."

"Yes, Mr. Holmes?" uncomfortably asked Natalie, being stuck in a taxi between the two men in an oversized dress.

"When we enter Milverton's mansion, you must stop calling us by such formal names," ordered Sherlock. "We are now a family of three."

"What, two men and their daughter?" joked John. Natalie laughed, but Sherlock stayed silent.

"No," Sherlock replied. "You are my brother, John, and," he locked eyes with Natalie, "you can be his wife."

"His what?!" Natalie shouted.

"His wife," Sherlock said, "I was under the impression that you could hear. All of our invitations have the same last name, 'Williams.' Marrying 15 year-olds was common in the 1800s."

"No it wasn't, I think. Anyway, it's not the 1800s now, and I am not going to be his wife!" Natalie complained. "I'll be his daughter, alright?!"

Sherlock was grinning, and Natalie assumed that the idea of her being John's wife had been a joke. "Daughter it is then, right 'Dad?" she shoved into Dr. Watson with her shoulder before winking at Sherlock, "So, 'Uncle,' what do you think of my hat?"

"Please," Sherlock was decidedly in a good mood, "Just call us Sherlock and John, and kindly refrain from poking out my eye with your hat."

By then, the taxi had stopped in front of the large mansion. As the three exited the cab, Sherlock paid the driver. "Woah," Natalie said, shocked at its size.

"Don't act so unaccustomed to wealth once we're inside, you have to play a rich daughter," Sherlock explained. The gates were open, and the three walked in, taking in their surroundings. There were fountains, and gardens, and even other buildings on Milverton's property. Following the crowd that surrounded his large front door, the three entered the mansion, showed their invitations to a man near the door, and then were lead to the ballroom. It was a large, open room, with a great chandelier hanging and circular tables around the room with an open space in the middle set for dancing. There was a stage in front of the dance floor with what looked like, to Natalie, a few classical musical instruments. On the walls were tables with different food on them, mostly desserts. "It's 8:00," Sherlock whispered to the two as they chose a table. "We will make our move around," Sherlock stopped to think, "around 11:30. The guests will be drunk by then." Then he turned to John, and firmly said, "You'd better not drink."

"Welcome, welcome!" suddenly called a voice. The three looked at the stage and saw Milverton himself, the host of the party. He was a short man, with a black mustache and a small body. "It is my honor to have you all for this party, from the 1800s. Your costumes are marvelous. Shall we begin?" he smiled, as the crowd began to clap and the band began to play. A few partygoers in different costumes began dancing as others dashed for dessert. Natalie chose to follow them, needing to waste three hours. Sherlock stayed seated as John left the table.

A few moments later, Natalie returned to sit beside Sherlock with a slice of cake and ice cream. "Would you me to get you some?" Natalie offered.

Sherlock replied with a very stern, "No," to which Natalie rolled her eyes. Times like these are when Natalie begins to miss Mrs. Hudson.

"Sherlock?" Natalie asked, feeling the name roll off her tongue, never before had she addressed him by first name. When he did not reply, she decided to move further with her question. Knowing Sherlock, Natalie figured he would have learned more about her, and perhaps he knew why she was sent here. After the short pause, she began again, "Sherlock, do you know anything about my family?" Sherlock did not move. He was silent in thought, wondering how best to go in answering Natalie's question. "Sherlock?" she asked once more.

He had to reply, but did not know how. For once, he cared about not hurting Natalie. After more thought, Sherlock replied with a very solemn "No."

Natalie was disappointed. "No… what?"

"No," Sherlock said, looking away from her gaze and out across the ballroom, "I don't know anything about your family." Natalie frowned, and began eating her dessert. "Oh no."

"What?" Natalie asked, hoping Sherlock had found something.

"He's drunk."

Natalie widened her eyes, and slowly turned her head to the crowd hoping that Sherlock was merely kidding. And then she saw it – Dr. John Watson dancing crazily among the crowd, like a drunken man. He was a drunken man. "Uh-oh…" Natalie whispered.

Sherlock checked his watch. It was only nine o'clock, meaning they would have to put up with John for another two hours.

"I'll stop him," Natalie said, determinedly. "He's bringing in too much attention. And we can't have that." Natalie stood awkwardly thanks to her dress and marched over to the dance floor with Sherlock watching.

John was dancing among a group of females when Natalie tapped his shoulder. He turned, surprised, and smiled. "Ah, Natalie!" he cheered. "Let's dance!" The doctor pulled his niece/daughter/whatever into a form of dance she had never seen before, and she tried to pull herself away.

"John," she whispered, "our plan!" She hoped he would realize.

"What plan?" He blurted loudly.

Sherlock could hear the conversation from his table. When the plan was mentioned, he turned to find Milverton, just in case he might have heard. And to the detective's disappointment, Charles Augustus Milverton was standing on the stage with his eyes piercing into John and Natalie. Sherlock bowed his head to stay hidden, and began to imagine a plan. Sherlock had aimed to wait until the other guests were drunk, but John was drunk first. It was 9:15 P.M., and Sherlock decided to make his move at 10.

Natalie twirled around the dance floor as John pulled her. He knew how to dance, she thought, and wondered how. One minute they were doing the Waltz, and another, they were even swing dancing. John was crazy when drunk, and she turned to Sherlock hoping he would stop this nonsense. Time had passed by quickly for Natalie. Eyeing the table, Natalie was confused as to where Sherlock had vanished to. Suddenly, John tripped and fell backwards onto the wooden floor, and none other than Sherlock stood behind him. "Oh dear!" Sherlock shouted, hoping his acting would be convincing. Natalie watched him help John to his feet. "I'm so sorry all of you," Sherlock said, "but my brother has gotten rather drunk. We'll have to go home now."

"That's too bad," said a voice. Natalie turned and saw Milverton himself.

Sherlock smiled at the short man and thanked him for the great party and left the ballroom, motioning for Natalie to follow. Passing through the halls, Sherlock retreated to whispers. "We're going to have to return John home if we're to succeed in our plan."

"We don't have time!" Natalie said.

"It's only 10, we'll be back by 11:30," Sherlock stated.

"But I don't wanna go home," John moaned, as Sherlock led him into the gardens. "Oh, look at that mountai- I meant, uh, fountain," John laughed, half-dazed.

"Come along, John," Sherlock instructed, and pushed him into a cab. Natalie sat on the other side. "221B Baker Street," Sherlock told the driver, and three drove back home. "We'll be dropping him off and then coming back, Natalie."

Natalie was curious about staying out alone with Sherlock, but she figured that he would be serious when it came to a case. The taxi stopped in front of their home. "We'll be back down in 5 minutes," Sherlock told the driver, while he pulled John out. Natalie ran ahead, up the stairs, and opened the door to both the apartment and John's bedroom. Sherlock followed, with a half-asleep John, and led him to the couch.

"No," Natalie said, "he can sleep on his bed," referring to how John had given up his bedroom for Natalie. "He needs it more than I do," she smiled. Natalie entered the room, prepared his bed, and led John onto it. As his head hit the pillow, the doctor was asleep.

"Come on," Sherlock told her, and they exited the apartment. "Mrs. Hudson!" shouted Sherlock.

A tired woman in a nightsuit appeared in the hall. "Yes," she asked, "Sherlock?"

"John's drunk, make sure he's fine," Sherlock asked, and left alongside Natalie, re-entering the cab. "Back to the mansion," he ordered. After twenty minutes of Natalie asking Sherlock for instructions, the cab drove in front of the gate. "You can stop right now," Sherlock asked, holding out a bill.

"Yeah, why not?" the driver laughed. "It's a good place to bury a body."

Sherlock and Natalie turned to each other. "What?" Natalie silently mouthed. At that moment, the driver turned around and held a gun to Sherlock's face. Natalie gasped. The driver began to drive away from the mansion, one hand on the wheel and another pointed at Sherlock, ready to kill. Natalie realized Sherlock could not do anything and knew that it was up to her. Ripping off a piece of one of her petticoats, Natalie quickly used it to cover the driver's (who sat in front of her) eyes. Cursing, the driver swerved off the road and into the fence, and continued to drive across the garden. Sherlock punched the gun out of the driver's hand and it flew out of the window. The car then burst into the mansion, smashing furniture, and stopped there, with the driver unconscious. "Sherlock, the stairs!" She pointed to her right. They would lead to Milverton's room, where the evidence was probably hidden.

"Quickly!" Sherlock replied with intensity, "before they come!" The two burst out of the cab and dashed up the stairs. From below, they heard people surround the car. Luckily, none realized two people were upstairs.

Somehow Sherlock knew the exact route to Milverton's bedroom. Once inside the dim room, he spoke, "Natalie, take out the hard drive."