Chapter Ten~ Dance
A/N: Ok, so, for your pleasure, I have put up a link on my profile that will lead to the site I found the dress I'm basing Diane's off of. Just remember that her's is green, and the one in the picture is grey. Also, I am trying to add another pic on there, one of a friend of mine that does immaculate make-up. I asked her to send me some pics of her with her make-up and hair done, because she is who I loosely based Diane off of. So, she is the...model of my character. Now, what shall our beloved detective think of our lovely Diane when he sees her at the gala? Let's find out, shall we?
How did she get talked into this? There was a lady at her feet, scrubbing and picking, another at her side asking what color she wanted. God, she hated nail parlors. With their nauseating chemical smell and the women looking far too closely at her fingers. Not that her nails were all that bad, Diane just never really took the time to get them professionally done. But Mary had insisted. So, here she was, at Vy Nail Salon, with one foot in warm water, and the other being mercilessly scrubbed with a pumice stone. Seriously, was she that crusty to warrant such rough treatment? Not that it hurt, it was just a bit odd. Glancing over a Mary, who was relaxed as can be, was chatting merrily with her nail technician, Diane sighed. Might as well enjoy it. Because I am not doing this again for a long while.
"What do you think, Diane?"
"Hmm?" Her eyes went back into focus on the woman who she had been staring at.
Mary just laughed, brushing it off. "Which color do you think would go best with my dress, the nude, or the one that looks like pomegranate?" She held both colors out to her friend.
After a moment of consideration, Diane handed them back, saying, "The red one, give you a splash of color."
"Good idea. What about you? What are you gonna go with? I personally think that you should get black with some gold design or something."
"Why?" Diane quirked an eyebrow. "It's not like I really have anyone to impress. It's just my boss, and all his high-up associates. Besides, no one's going to be looking at my hands."
"Oh, I think you'll find that they are, darling. Have you really never been to one of these before?"
Diane shook her head. "No, I always helped out behind the scenes, y'know? I usually run around in the kitchen, making sure the right courses go out, keep the staff from wondering off when they aren't supposed to, and giving them breaks when they need it."
"Really? That must be exciting."
"That's one word for it. Another would be work." The woman at Diane's feet was now scraping off bits of excess skin around her cuticles, and she had to fight the urge to kick her in the face.
"Yes, well, you are not doing any work this time 'round, so enjoy it. Has Sherlock found your dress yet?" Mary gave her a pointed look.
"Of course not, though not for lack of trying. I'm keeping it at the office until I get there to do last minute checks on everything. I'll be doing my hair and make-up at the flat though, so I won't have to worry about that." Mary was giggling at her. "What?"
"You and Sherlock. Ah, you're like children."
"Well, if you're going to deal with a child, you have to act like one. Otherwise they don't learn." When her friend gave her an odd look, she raised her hand, holding up fingers. "Three brothers, remember?"
"Right. Anyway, I still think you should go with the black and gold design. You won't have to worry too much about it chipping or anything, since you only have to wait until tomorrow night to keep yourself from picking."
Diane grimaced. Mary had noticed that she never had any one color of nail polish on for very long. Usually foregoing the salon, Diane painted her nails herself, often ending in frustration when she smudged them, or putting on another coat before it was finished drying, which melted the layers together and made for a terrible mess. When she did finally managed to get them done to her liking, she would always end up picking at them when they started to chip, often leaving tiny spots of paint in the recesses between the edge of her nail and the ridge of her skin. It was hard for her to resist picking at the polish, as the feel of catching things on it irritated her. Plus the constant need to be on the move. More than once, Sherlock had gotten upset at her because she was always moving her hands, either picking at them, spinning her rings around her fingers, or tapping and twirling a pen. Suffice to say, Diane very easily went stir crazy, though not as quickly as her flatmate.
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Diane nodded to the nail tech who was waiting for her decision. "Just a couple of dots and lines, I suppose."
)0(
To be fair, Diane really did like the design the tech had done on her nails. What she didn't like, was Sherlock's comments about the design when she got home.
"So, are you trying to put yourself above Mary?"
"What the hell are you even talking about, Mr. Holmes?" The fumes from the nail parlor had given her a headache, and she really just wanted some tea.
"Traditionally, people who wore black polish were of higher status than those who did not."
"Actually, no, you've got it backwards." She rolled her eyes and continued watching the kettle boil. "Red and other such bright colors were worn in ancient China as a symbol of high status, with black being a step or so lower, and clear or pale colors being used for the lower class. It was meant to protect their nails from cracking." Behind her, she could hear Mary snickering. Turning around, she saw Sherlock staring at her with an odd look. "What? You're not the only one with random useless facts running around their brain." The electric kettle clicked off, telling her it was done, so she poured the steaming water in the pot, letting it steep. "So, John, what time do you think you'll show up tomorrow evening?"
"Oh, er...probably about half past. Don't want to be the first there and all that."
"True enough. Tea?"
"Please. What about you? Are you not going to be riding with us?"
Diane settled into the sofa next to Mary, spooning sugar into her cup. "No, I have to go in early for a few last minute preparations. I'll be there about the same time you will, probably. Did Mary show you her dress?"
"Yes, yes she did. It is absolutely beautiful, just like anything she could possibly wear." The comment was met with a scoff and an eye roll from the other man, who was plucking at his violin. "Shut up, Sherlock."
"What? You're obviously only saying that because you expect to charm her back into bed tonight." The two women started laughing, which irked the detective.
"Unlike you, Mr. Holmes, who has to trick and worm his way into being liked, I'm pretty sure John does not have that problem with Mary."
"Quite right," Mary chimed, getting up to kiss John's cheek. "He doesn't have to do a thing to charm his way into my bed." Another eye roll from Sherlock.
"It's called love, Holmes." Diane chided while taking a sip of tea. "You can be angry as hell at the other person, and you'll still want to hold them at night. And when something like that comes along," she smiled into her cup, "Every little thing they do is charming. They don't have to try, but you'll be enchanted by every look, every move, every annoying thing they say." The couple by the fire were nodding along, grinning. "And every moment that you're with them, you'll want to touch them, even just brushing their hand. And when you're not, you'll wish you were. Your world revolves around that person."
John and Mary shared a look in that moment, one that made Diane all at once, happy and sad. Happy because they looked like they truly had found that person in each other, and she was glad for them. But, she was sad. Because, she had once thought she found that, too. In that moment, everything was warm and loving. One could taste it in the air, it was that thick. Diane felt her heart swelling with it, almost bringing her to tears. But, of course, someone had to ruin it.
"Yes, well. Do forgive me if I don't refer to you as an expert in that department." Sherlock grumped as he continued plucking the strings.
"Sherlock, that was rude!" John said.
"No, it's alright. I know what he meant. I was just saying, that that's what it feels like."
"Feelings." Sherlock mocked with disdain. "Feelings are irrelevant to an intelligent mind. Caring is not an advantage."
"You say that now." Diane shrugged. "But, one of these days, someone is going to come along and mess up that funny head of yours, Mr. Holmes. And you'll be so dead set on trying to tell yourself that 'feelings don't matter' that you are going to drive that person away. And when that happens, it'll leave you spinning in place, trying to figure out how to just survive without that person in your life. Now," she set her cup down a bit hard. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go finish up some work." Not bothering to worry about the noise, she walked out the front door, slamming it as she went, which caused the mirror on the wall to quiver.
"Oh, dear. I think you rather upset her, Sherlock." John murmured.
"So?"
Mary sighed. "Sherlock, dear, she's going to be your housemate. Whether you like it or not-"
"I don't." He said harshly.
They both gave him a hard look. "Whether you like it or not, she is going to be living here. The least you can do is try to get along with her."
"The only reason she's here is to spy on me for my brother."
"No, Sherlock, she isn't." John told him. "That may be how it started out, but that girl has nowhere else to go."
"And how is that my problem?"
"It's your problem, because she is here to stay. Diane is nice, she smart, and she's probably got clearance for some pretty classified stuff, which should interest you by just that fact alone. Besides that, she had done nothing but try since she moved in, to make you like her, even just a little. Poor girl is strung out with this whole party thing, and you, Sherlock, are just making it worse. She is trying, which is more than what most people give when it comes to you. Now, you are going to go up there and apologize to her. And, if by some miracle, she decides to forgive you for the comment about her past relationships, you are going to ask to escort her to the gala tomorrow night.
"Why in the world would I do that?" His thick brows scrunched up in confusion.
"Because, she's a nice girl, Sherlock. And she's our friend. Although, with your ever paranoid brain, don't see that because you think she's spying on you. Now, go." With a gesture, John pointed towards the door, a dark look in his eye that Sherlock dare not argue with.
"Fine, fine!" He got up and made his way out. "But if I come downstairs with a black eye, I'm blaming you."
"I honestly wouldn't be surprised if you did."
The dark-haired man gave a scoff and started trudging up the stairs. He was halfway up when he heard music. Not the clarinet he usually heard when she was practicing. This was more upbeat, with lyrics. Padding up the stairs, quietly as possible, he saw that her door was standing partially open, though he couldn't see inside because of the small hallway that led into the room. As Sherlock got closer, he could hear what sounded like huffing. Luckily, her door was well maintenance, so it didn't squeak when he nudged it open slowly. The sound he was hearing was Diane, in the middle of her floor, doing pushups in a sports bra and shorts. After a moment, she flopped down and stuck her feet under the bed, using it as a lever. She did a sit up, twisted to touch the floor with her elbows on each side, then did it again. He watched on as she finished up her set and stood to start stretching. It was fascinating to watch her twist and bend. Especially when she started bending backwards and touched her hands to the ground behind her, creating a bridge with her body. She started breathing a bit hard, although that might have had something to do with the way her breasts were held tightly against her chest, but still falling towards her neck. Her eyes opened after she had settled into place, only to be drawn by the man standing in her doorway.
The thump that resounded when she hit the floor made him wince. "Are you alright?"
"Fine, fine. I'm fine." Diane laid there for a moment, gathering herself. Her legs were still in the shape of a W from where she landed. "What the hell do you want?" With a grunt, she shoved herself up. "And why were just standing there watching me?"
He made a face, "Which would you like me to answer first?"
"Oh, shut up." She grabbed a water bottle that sat on her dresser and took a swig from it.
"I can't very well answer you at all if I shut up."
"Mr. Holmes," she warned.
"Right, sorry." His mouth clenched up in an attempt to look sheepish.
"Did the great Sherlock Holmes just apologize?" She asked, as if it were the strangest thing in the world.
With a sigh, he responded slowly. "Yes. I, erm..." He cleared his throat. "It has been brought to my attention that what I said may not have been...appropriate, given the situation."
"And what situation would that be, Mr. Holmes?"
The detective seemed to be slightly fidgety, like he couldn't hold still, and he was looking everywhere but at her. "Our. I meant our situation. The whole, you know, sharing a flat, thing... I was...out of line, and I apologize for my behavior." Now he was looking at his shoes. For a moment neither said anything. Finally, Sherlock raised his eyes to hers.
She had been waiting for him to look at her. "I know you're not actually sorry." He started stuttering, trying to come up with a valid response, to which she just shook her head. "I know how you are by now, Mr. Holmes. I shouldn't have let it get to me like that. The stress, I suppose. It's been getting to me. Normally, I probably would have just made some witty retort back at you that you would have then insulted, then we'd all have a laugh, and go back to ignoring one another." She shrugged. "This thing tomorrow has just...thrown me through a loop. I've never been expected to plan, coordinate, and enjoy something like this."
"I'm sure you'll do splendidly. After all, if you can deal with arguably the two most impossible men on the face of the earth, you can manage a little party."
Diane narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"John threatened me."
"Ah. Well, thank you for the apology. If you don't mind, I'd like to get ready for bed now." When he didn't leave, she continued, "Without someone watching me. I need my sleep for tomorrow, for promises to be very long."
"Right, that actually brings me to something else I was suppose to ask you."
"What now, Mr. Holmes? I'm really very tired."
"Yes, but...John and Mary insisted that...um..."
Diane crossed her arms, an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to finish. "Insisted that you...what?"
"Ahem...that I..." After that, he mumbled something incoherent that she didn't understand.
"Sorry, what was that?"
He sighed, and with a groan, shook his head. "Nevermind. It's not important. As you said, it is rather late, and you have a long day tomorrow. Goodnight."
The departure of Sherlock was so hurried and swift, that Diane for a moment didn't realize he was gone. It wasn't until she heard the door to the flat hit its frame that she woke up from the daze she had been in.
"What the hell?"
)0(
"Ok, gala officially begins at 7 o'clock, but there will be people there at least half an hour early, so your men really need to be ready by 6." Diane was darting around the living room of 221B, jabbering into her phone. "Yes, I will be there before that. Yes, Jerald, I will make sure the waitstaff has the full itinerary. Look, let me worry about all that, you just make sure that security is tight. You know how people are." She tapped the end call button rather hard. With a loud sigh, she flopped onto the couch next to Mrs. Hudson. "Oh, the gala hasn't even started and it's already a nightmare!"
"Whatever is the matter, dear?"
"Jerald, head of security," she waved her phone. "He doesn't think I know what I'm doing. Keeps second guessing everything I say."
Just then, Sherlock came swooping in, red dressing gown swirling around him as he spun and sat in his chair. "Considering that you are very young, and previously untried with an event as big as this, it's not really all that surprising."
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Holmes." Diane was rubbing her temples. She would have to find some ibuprofen or advil. I wonder if there's some in the medicine cabinet?
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
Through the headache that was forming, Diane noticed that he was staring at her, waiting for a reply. "It's just a habit. You are my boss's brother."
"So?"
"So, it's only respectful for me to call you Mr. Holmes." Before he could start pouting again, her phone decided to ring again. "Laura! Please tell me you have good news?" Whatever was being said on the other end of the line was most certainly the opposite, if Diane's face was anything to go by. "What?! What do you mean they didn't show up? No, no, let me handle it. I'll call them and get it all sorted out." The rest of the conversation was drowned out as she left the room to go upstairs.
"Poor dear," Mrs. Hudson sighed. "Your brother better be paying her well. She's worth more than just a secretary. So, I heard you're taking her to the party tonight."
"No." He said simply.
"What? I thought John said-"
"No, I decided against it. Given our already precarious relationship, I highly doubt she would have been very appreciative of it."
"Well, you never know. She might have said yes."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Don't you have some baking to do or something."
"No, not really. Personally, I think she likes you. If you'd just give her a chance, maybe-"
"Tea, Mrs. Hudson! Tea and biscuits!"
With a start, she shot up off of the couch and made her way to the door. "I really do need to have a talk with your mother, Sherlock." Once again, he was alone. Just how he liked it...
)0(
Diane had just finished up with another little issue that had come up, when she looked at her phone and realized that she had only two hours until she had to be at the venue. "Shit." She ran to her dresser to get her toiletries, then downstairs to the bathroom. The door was locked. "Mr. Holmes? If you wouldn't mind hurrying it up a bit, I need to get a shower." There was no response from inside. "Mr. Holmes?" Knocking on the door did nothing to coax a response. "Mr. Holmes, are you in there?" With her ear to the door, she could almost hear him moving around, and the light under the door showed that he was standing right at the door. Diane groaned and went around into his room, only to find the other door shut tightly as well. "Damn it. Seriously?" She started banging on the door, clearly being able to see him on the other side. "I know you're in there. Please, I really need to start getting ready. Mr. Holmes?" She could see the pale of his face turn towards her over the distorted dark of his hair and clothes. Diane sighed. "Sherlock?" She said quietly.
She almost fell forward when the door swung open, revealing a rather pleased looking man. "Well, it's about time."
"Really? You went through all of that just so that I would call you by your given name?"
"Of course." He answered smugly.
"Yes, well, you've had your fun. Now, if you please, I really have to get a shower." Trying to slid past him, Diane got caught between the man and the door. He was staring down at her, intentionally blocking her way. "Please move." He didn't. Just raised an eyebrow at her with a small smile. Diane sighed. "Please move, Sherlock."
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked as he backed up a bit to let her through.
Stopping for a moment, she looked at him and said, "You have no idea." And then slammed the door on him. Damn that mad man and his infernal meddling. Not bothering to block the door, knowing he'd only find a way to get in anyway, Diane turned on the water and stripped while waiting for it to heat up. "Alrighty, what do I need? What do I need?" She muttered to herself. "Let's see...mmh, good shampoo, conditioner. Face wash...maybe the sugar scrub. Mmh, scrub after shave. Yeah, that sounds about right."
What Diane didn't know, was that Sherlock was still standing in his room, listening to everything she said. Women, he thought to himself. So overly complicated with their beauty regimes. With a huff, he made his way out to the kitchen to start up an experiment. Of course, he knew she'd give him hell for messing up her cleaning.
)0(
Shaved, scrubbed, and slathered up in softening stuff, Diane was now upstairs in her room standing in her underwear and robe, with her hair in a braided bun while she did make-up. Diane was leaned forward over her dresser to apply her mascara, trying to be careful not to poke herself in the eye, as she actually often did. Once satisfied that it was done, she settled back, only to jump when the person standing in the doorway spoke.
"Are you really wearing your hair like that?" Sherlock smirked. Groaning, Diane grabbed her blush and tried to ignore him. "Wrong color."
She looked at him in disbelief. "And what do you know about make-up?"
"You'd be surprised." Pushing off the wall, he strode forward and looked over the tiny assortment of powders and creams littered over her counter. He took a moment, occasionally picking one up and holding it against her face, only to put it down and continue comparing. Until he was down to two. "Hmm...this one...or this one?" The two colors could not have been more different. One was pale pink, Glow by Elf. The other was a dark swirl, Dusk by Mary Kay. "This might be a bit easier if I knew what color your dress was, since you've taken such good care to make sure I didn't see it."
"I don't do pink." She tried to shove his hand away.
"Yes, perhaps. However, difference in lighting, atmosphere, and clothing can change what works with your skin tone." He thought for a few seconds and then set the lighter blush down. "Even so, that's more of a summer outing color, I think. This one would probably be better for a evening formal."
Sherlock set the container in her hand and took a step back. Diane stared at him. "Why are you trying to help me?" She asked with narrowed eyes.
He shrugged. "A difference of view might surely help for making sure you look...as well as you can."
"Yes, but, why?"
Sherlock made an annoyed sound, throwing his hands up. "What does it matter why? Shouldn't you be grateful that I'm helping you at all?"
"That's not how it works, Mr. Holmes." She opened up the blush and tapped out her brush.
"Why are we back to that?"
Diane glanced at him in her mirror, realizing with a jerk that his gaze had traveled to her legs. "If you're quite finished oggling..." She almost laughed when he rolled his eyes.
"Just answer the question."
She threw her head back with a sigh. "We are back to that because you are still my employer's brother, and at the moment, a job for me. And as such, it is only proper that you and I remain as such."
"Yes, but you are living under the same roof, I don't see the point." He started towards her bed, making to flop down on it.
Diane spun on her heel and pointing her finger at the detective. "Don't you even think about it!" The tone of her voice made him stop. "Remember what happened the last time you sat down there?" Once convinced that he wouldn't do it, she started lining her lips with a pencil. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm in a hurry, I have to be ready by the time the car gets here."
"Oh, you have plenty of time. Now, I thought perhaps it would be good for me to join you."
"In that case, then you better go get ready, because I have less than an hour before I have to leave."
"I'm sure Mycroft will be fine until you get there. The party staff may be imbeciles, but they know well enough to follow direc-"
"Mr. Holmes!" She slammed down the lipstick brush she had been using. "I am very busy at the moment, and I do not have time to sit and chat. Because, unlike everyone else who will be there, I have to actually do some work. I won't have time for drinking and conversing, and dancing the night away. I have to work. Now, if you don't mind, go. Away!" She waited until she heard him exit the room before sighing and going back to finishing up her make-up.
)0(
Oh, this was a complete nightmare. Even after the (semi-threatening) phone call to the catering company, they were still late. Sure, the cooks could have handled it, but she had hired a caterer to take some of the rush off them for the party. Sure, there would be an actual dinner, which is what they needed to be really worried about. Over a hundred guests to feed, and only so much time to cook everything. On top of that, two of the waiters hadn't shown up, and security had already found a group of kids trying to sneak in. She had had a very thorough talk with them while they waited for the police to come pick them up and take them back to their homes. At the moment, Diane was busy rushing around the kitchen pointing out this and that that needed to be done and/or fixed before dinner started. Just as she was starting to get really anxious, Jerald ran up to her.
"Caterer's here."
"Oh, thank God!" Diane said. "Show them in, ask Marline to direct them. Lainey?!" She shouted to the head chef. "Is the first course going to be finished in time?"
"Yes, miss. Should be ready in half an hour."
"Thank you. Jerald, anymore problems so far?"
"None. But, the first cars have started making their way down here, so you might want to get Mr. Holmes down here quickly."
"Right, thanks. Can you all handle things down here?"
Jerald patted her arm, "We've got this. Go get the boss," he gently pushed her towards the door. She waved at him and ran down the halls.
Mycroft was in his office, taking care of a few last minute things. Luckily, he was already dressed. Looking up when he heard the door open, he smiled at Diane. "Ah, my dear. Everything alright? No problems, I trust?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle, sir."
The tall man raised a brow at her as he stood. "Are you alright? You look a bit flustered." In truth, she did. Despite her make-up, her face was rather red, a mix of running around shouting orders and standing in the kitchen. Her hair was starting to come loose from it's bun, creating flyaways.
"Fine. But, you should probably get downstairs."
"Yes, thank you, Diane. I think I should. And you should get ready." Diane followed him out of the office.
"I've got some more things I need to do, but-"
"No 'but's, Diane." Mycroft crossed the room to the closet, and pulled out the still covered dress. "We have guests to attend to. And since my imbecil of a baby brother neglected to offer, I would be honored if you would attend the party."
She blinked at him, confused, but took the dress anyway. Diane had started towards the bathroom, but stopped. "Sir, what do you mean? 'Since he neglected to offer'? Surely-"
"Don't worry about that now, my dear. Go get dressed. I shall wait here." With that, he sat down quite poshly on the settee. "Well, go on. And do take your hair products. Can't have you looking like a milkmaid."
Diane was about to respond, but thought better of it. Instead, she grabbed her purse and went into the bathroom. It was a nice one, considering it was in a government building. She hung the dress on the back of the door and set her purse down so she could get undressed. Starting out, she had been wearing a dress shirt and slacks, with some black flats to allow her to run around easily. That was why she had put her hair up the way she had. Of course, she didn't intend to actually go to the gala. Her purse contained the bra she had brought with her, as the one she was currently wearing could have been seen with her dress, as well as her heels and hairspray. Standing in her underwear, she touched up her make-up, then took the dress out of the bag and slipped it on. It felt wonderful on her skin. It wasn't quite silky, but it wasn't rough either. Paired with the strapless bra that was usually the bane of her existence, it looked better than it had in the dressing room. With a small flourish, Diane pulled her braid loose and let it hang down her back before undoing it.
She had always liked the way that her hair looked after she braided it wet. Usually, she couldn't get it to hold a curl for the life of her. But, the braid made it a little more wavy than normal, and she could work with that. Taking out a wide-tooth comb and some hairspray, she brushed and teased until it looked halfway decent. A thin chain with a small tear-drop opal hung at the top of her breasts, a rhinestone bracelet on her wrist, and her usual rings adorned her fingers. The last thing was her shoes, which were a pair of quite comfortable black pumps with ankle-straps that had gold buckles. Mary was right, the designs on her nails matched quite well indeed. With one final primp, she packed up her things and opened the door. Mycroft was still sitting there, as promised, and looked up when the door opened.
"Don't you look lovely." He said, getting up. "By the way, how did you ever managed to sleep on that thing? It's quite uncomfortable."
Diane's cheeks darkened. "I made do with what I had. Do you really think it looks alright?" She started smoothing down any wrinkles in the fabric.
"I think you look absolutely stunning, my dear. Now," he held out his arm, "shall we?" With a shy smile, she set her things back under the desk and slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.
)0(
"Why exactly am I here, John?" Sherlock droned. He had already deduced everything about all the people in the room, and none of them were exactly what he would call interesting.
"Because, Sherlock, you have managed to evade every one of your brother's parties that you have been invited to. And, if Mary and I have to be here, so do you. Knowing you, you'll have probably blown up the flat by the time we got home. Besides, Diane's going to be here any moment."
"So? This is boring. Why do you always drag me to the boring things?"
John sighed. "Not everything has to involve a murder for it to be fun." He was right about to say something else when Mary elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! What was that for?" She didn't answer, so he followed her gaze to the staircase behind Sherlock. "Wow," he breathed.
"What? What are you both goggling at?" He turned around for a moment to try to see, and did a double take. Who the hell was Mycroft standing with up there? In fact, it seemed that many people in the room were wondering the same thing. A hush had fallen over everyone in the foyer, waiting for their host to speak.
"Lady and gentlemen, honored guests. I thank you ever so humbly for joining me tonight. If you will please follow these gentlemen into the ballroom, we have live music and drinks. Dinner should be announced soon. Until then," he raised his arms in greeting. "Please, enjoy." The murmurs resumed again as everyone else started filing into the next room. Mycroft said something to the woman next to him, she nodded, and then he made his way down the stairs. She stayed where she was, taking a phone out of her clutch to check something. "Ah, Dr. Watson, Mary. Wonderful to have you." He shook hands with them and then turned to Sherlock. "Glad to see you could make it, little brother."
"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?"
"Of course you did."
With a jerk of his chin, the detective motioned to the woman now speaking to someone on the device in her hand. "Who is that? I quite thought women bored you, brother mine."
All three of them looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, I have some more guests to greet." And he slid past them.
The woman in question was now making her way down the stairs. The slit in her dress made the flowing skirt trailing behind her open to expose her legs every time she stepped, and the waist (combined with the heels she was wearing) accentuated the way her hips swung when she did. Instead of moving past them, she walked right up to them, her bosom emphasized rather nicely with the V-neckline. Sherlock couldn't have been more surprised when she addressed them. "John, Mary. Enjoying the party so far?" He knew that voice, but the woman before him was almost a stranger. Then his brain started picking out bits of her features that he recognized.
"Oh, yes. We were just speaking to Mycroft." John grinned. "Aren't you a sight. I do rather believe that you took some of Mycroft's attention."
Mary, moved forward and hugged her. "You look beautiful. That really was the best dress."
Diane looked down at herself, "Yes, I suppose it was, wasn't it? Anyway, why don't we go in? There are plenty of people to talk to, I'm sure." She started to go, then realized that Sherlock seemed to be frozen in his spot. "Are you alright?" She asked. When he didn't answer, she moved forward to touch his arm, "Mr. Holmes, are you-"
"Fine, I'm fine, thank you for asking. Yes, we should go in."
John called after his friend. "Sherlock!" The sleuth stopped and turned, a question on his face. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Not...that I'm aware of?" Sherlock tilted his head, his face still confused.
Gesturing towards the woman beside him, he explained. "Diane. We agreed, remember. You said you would ask to escort her."
The woman in question shook her head. "I beg your pardon?"
"Yes, well it would seem that I...neglected to mention it." He then tried to make his escape once again.
"Oh, no you don't." Mary stopped him by grabbing hold of his arm, and steered him back towards the other two. "You said you would, and you are going to. It's not proper for a lady to attend a party unescorted."
"Since when does that apply to the help?" Diane scoffed.
A gentle hand was placed on her hand. "You are so much more than just the help, Annie. Sherlock promised. Now, be a gentleman and escort her." Mary walked off with her fiance, a proud look thrown back over her shoulder. Neither one said anything for a few moments.
"Well, it would appear," he started, his voice low so that the rest of the guests milling about didn't hear, "That they have thrown us into the lion's den without so much as a stick."
Diane chuckled. "Never fear, Mr. Holmes." She put her hand through his elbow. "It happens, that I know a bit about taming lions."
The two of them shared an amused smile. "It would seem so. Shall we?"
She bowed her head as if to say, 'Lead the way.'