Chapter 8 - Devil in a red dress
Sherlock threw clothes across the room as he searched for the proper costume. Mary glanced over from time to time as he discard first one garment and then the other. "Got it!" he said and rushed off into his room.
He returned in a bit wearing a straight knee-length red shift with a brown shoulder length wig. "There," he said, "I'm ready"
"You're not going out like that are you?" Mary asked.
"What's wrong with it?"
"For one, the line on the back of your stocking isn't straight." Mary bent down behind Sherlock and carefully straightened his black lined stockings. "These heels are a bit wicked. You should have gotten something wider."
"Do you know how hard it is to get red pumps in my size?" Sherlock commented.
"Sit down and let me do your hair," Mary said.
Mary ran a brush across the wig and then adjusted his curls so that they didn't peek out from under it. She rushed off and came back with her purse. "I don't have much make up with me, but you can do with a bit of blush. I'd use my foundation but you are so pale."
"I've got makeup in the box over there," Sherlock said pointing.
Mary opened the box and exclaimed, "My! You have more than I do. Do you often play dress up?"
"Occasionally I am required to for my job," Sherlock said.
Mary raised an eyebrow and then, picking some red lipstick, she came over to fix Sherlock's face. "You have such beautiful full lips. I'm envious." She said drawing a defining line around the edge of his lips and spreading it out with her thumb, "and this powder is the wrong color, but I think that it will be okay on your neck to minimize these moles."
"Is there something wrong with my skin?" Sherlock asked dewy-eyed as a school girl.
"Hush, I'm doing your cheek line." She said before stopping with her hand on his cheek. "So high. So exotic. I was never exotic." Mary frowned. She pulled out a black pencil and began to accent Sherlock's eyes. "We're going to have to trim your eyebrows."
"No!" Sherlock demanded, "No plucking eyebrows. They don't grow back."
"Then we'll use wax. Do you have a candle?"
Mary primped and polished Sherlock and finally gave him her seal of approval. "Now stand properly! No, put one heel against the arch of the other one. That's better. Oh I forgot!"
Mary took the silver hollow-beaded necklace off of her own neck and put it on Sherlock's. She had to stand on a chair to do it and it fit like a choker on him, but it complemented his red dress perfectly.
"You wait here. I'll be back soon." Sherlock said opening the door.
"I'm going with you." Mary said rushing after him.
"But you would stand out. You'll blow my cover!"
"Mr Holmes. I'm not letting you out of my sight," Mary said putting on her coat and picking up her purse.
After an arduous train trip where Sherlock was propositioned not once, but twice, they arrived at Brandywine's.
"Are you sure this is it?" Mary asked.
"This is the address," he said, "places like this often wish to remain... inconspicuous." Sherlock turned the knob and entered.
The room was half-empty. There was a stage with a blue light shining down but no one was on it. The bartender looked up at them and then away. Mary motioned to a table in the back and sat down.
"So you think John came here?" She said, "It isn't his usual type of bar, unless there's more about him that I don't know."
"I'm not certain of anything yet. We have to gather evidence first," Sherlock answered as he picked up a matchbook and sniffed it. He placed it back down. Mary reached out and put it in her bag.
A tall woman came over. She wore a green velvet floor length gown and diamond earrings. "Hello," she said, "You're new here. My name is Brandywine and this is my place."
Sherlock reached out a hand. "I'm ..." He started to say then he stopped. He hadn't thought of an appropriate name yet.
"This is his first time out," Mary interrupted, "He hasn't gotten used to introducing himself to others yet. He likes to be called, Vacua."
"And you are?"
"Mary, I'm his counselor. He's working through some ... gender identity issues."
"I see." Brandywine said. "Well Vacua, I must say that you are looking stunning today. Do you sing?"
"I..Uh..." Sherlock stuttered.
"Because if you do, there's a place for you in my cabaret. That figure is to die for."
"We were wondering," Sherlock interjected, "If you've seen a friend of mine, short blond hair, wearing a black coat, calls himself John."
"I know a lot of Johns," Brandywine said, " but we have an official no gossip policy here. You could be his best friend and his wife, and I wouldn't say a word to you about it. But here." Brandywine slipped Sherlock a card. "Consider my offer. I really think that you have promise. Enjoy the show." She smiled and walked away.
Sherlock sniffed the card, and then he handed it to Mary. She smelled it. "It's the same perfume."
"Yes, John has definitely been here."
"So where does that leave us?" Mary asked.
"It means that I'm going to have to do something a bit embarrassing," Sherlock said biting his lip.
"More embarrassing than dressing as a woman?" Mary asked.
"Yes." He said frowning. "I'm going to have to beg for help from my brother, Mycroft."
