Chapter 10 - I Lack the Practical Experience

Sherlock had decided that enough was enough. It was time to be Sherlock Holmes again. He was standing by their table with his coat and scarf slung over one arm, ready for them to leave when Violet returned from the club's bathroom.

Her face fell when she saw him, and he tried to ignore the twisting inside his gut in response.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stopping in front of him, lightly touching his coat.

"I think we're done here."

"We were just getting started. Having a few laughs. One more drink and then we can share our deepest, darkest secrets with each other."

Her face broke into a teasing smile while Sherlock's eyes widened in a very real fear. He heard several doors in his Mind Palace slam shut one after the other. Chains and bolts slid in place and a very deep clang of a cast iron door, somewhere in the basement probably, resonated throughout. Some secrets should never see the light of day, Sherlock reasoned.

"No. It's time to leave."

Violet stepped away from Sherlock and plopped petulantly onto the booth seat. She crossed her arms and said, "You can go. I'm staying."

Sherlock sighed. What did he care whether she stayed and drank herself into a comatose state. How was that even his concern?

Because you're her employer, the ex-army doctor advised him. She ended up in Shoreditch because of you and the case, and you bought her a drink. That's why. Something about Duty of Care...

"You really shouldn't drink anymore," Sherlock said, but he remained where he stood.

Violet blinked slowly. She was obviously tired or very drunk. Could be both.

"I thought we were having fun," she said. "We were talking. I like talking to you."

These were unfamiliar words to Sherlock's ears. He was losing his ability to reason with himself. She likes talking to me? That's not what people normally say. What on earth is wrong with her?

She clearly suffers from a mental illness, Mycroft advised him.

Violet stood up and wobbled slightly. Thinking she was finally in agreement, Sherlock reached for her coat.

"Let's play a game," she said. "And if you win, we can leave. If I win, you can shout us one more drink."

Sherlock breathed out deeply. Was he a bit relieved Violet was insisting on his company? She liked talking to him! It wouldn't hurt to find out what the game was surely?

We're playing games now, Sherlock? came Mycroft's disapproving tone. You really are behaving like this is a Thursday night, and you know how they end up.

A happy ending! John concluded, holding his hand up to Mycroft, waiting for his high-five to be returned. Mycroft narrowed his eyes at him and left him hanging.

Sherlock shook his head imperceptibly so that the annoying figments of his imagination disappeared from his mind.

"What game?" he asked.

"You'll like it!" Violet replied, and it warmed Sherlock a little to see the spark return to her eyes. She gently held his hand, encouraging him to sit down in their booth once again.

"I haven't agreed yet," he said, placing both their coats and his scarf onto the seat beside him once more.

Violet shifted maddeningly close to Sherlock, their knees practically touching underneath the table.

"We're going to pick out a group of people, or a couple—it doesn't matter—and we each get to guess what they're about. You know? Why they're here, or what their relationships are. Okay? I'll guess first, then you go."

"I never guess," Sherlock replied, feeling a tiny bit smug. Of course he was going to win this game. There was nothing more definite in this world. And then they could leave and end this ridiculous evening of flirtation.

But wait!

What?

End this? Why would you want to end this?

End her close proximity and her eager bright face? Her company, her touch, her smiles...

"I've found a couple!" Violet said enthusiastically. Clearly she had taken his non-response as agreement.

She grasped Sherlock's arm, as if preparing herself for the visual onslaught. Feeling her tender touch, Sherlock thoroughly made up his mind.

"Um... okay," Violet began, staring at a couple to the left of them. "I may be at a bit of an advantage, because I've been looking at them all evening."

Sherlock directed his gaze to the focus of Violet's attention and quietly scanned the couple, as if reading from a book.

Siblings.

Recently deceased parent.

Struggling to come to a decision over selling the family home. He's unemployed.

She works in a bank.

He dyes his hair. Trying to get back into the game after his own divorce.

She thinks he's an idiot.

"Okay," Violet said again, through narrow eyes. "They've been married a long time, and they're struggling to keep it together. He's an alcoholic and she found him here in the pub." Violet looked at Sherlock triumphantly.

That's the entirety of your observations? Sherlock thought. It always amused him how little other people saw of the world. He cleared his throat.

Siblings. "Brother and sister," he began.

Erm, what are you doing? asked John. I thought you were going to...

But Sherlock interrupted his own alter-ego's train of thought. I'm on it, he countered.

Recently deceased parent. "They're planning their parents' golden wedding anniversary." He narrowed his eyes as if deep in thought.

Struggling to come to a decision over selling the family home. "They're wondering whether or not to shout their parents on a round the world cruise."

He's unemployed. "He runs his own business—washing dogs."

She works in a bank. "She works in child care."

He dyes his hair. Trying to get back into the game after his own divorce. "Both happily married, and..."

She thinks he's an idiot."… they have enormous respect for one another."

He returned his gaze to Violet.

Oh Sherlock, came Mycroft's voice. What have you done?

"I'll go ask them," Violet said suddenly and she stood up and had left their table while Sherlock remained there in shocked silence at both her intention and her swift departure.

What? How can she verify all that? he thought in a panic.

Violet had marched across the room to the couple previously under scrutiny. Sherlock felt completely uncomfortable with Violet taking it upon herself to interrogate the couple for no reason other than a game. That kind of behaviour would usually get him a punch in the face. He observed Violet chatting with them; they looked pleased to be talking to her and not at all angry or offended. The couple laughed good-naturedly before Violet waved them goodbye and strode back to Sherlock. He was amazed she could have that effect on people.

"We were both wrong," she said as she slid into the booth. "They are brother and sister, but their father recently died and they're trying to decide what to do with their family home. Their mother died years ago too. He's in between jobs and she works at a bank in the Strand."

Sherlock feigned disappointment. "Well I was right about them being related."

"Oh, you were so close! I'll award half points. We'll stay for another round of drinks, but it'll be my shout. Okay?"

Sherlock frowned in mock disagreement. The outcome he was hoping for: they were staying a bit longer.

It was Sherlock's turn to lean back into the booth and close his eyes. An argument surfaced in his mind, one in which he wasn't particularly keen on participating.

You can't do this. She works for you.

I'm not going to do anything, other than have one more drink and listen to how much Violet thinks I'm wonderful.

Are you really so desperate to be liked by another? Isn't that why people obtain pets?

Don't bring up Redbeard again, Mycroft.

It's only a few days until Thursday. There will be other candidates to choose from. Not this one. She knows you. She lives upstairs.

That's the whole point isn't it? She knows me.

And she likes me.

"Are you sleeping now?"

Sherlock opened his eyes as Violet placed both their drinks onto the table and sat down next to him.

"Just resetting," he answered, sitting up a bit straighter, but noting Violet's close proximity once more. "A bit off in my deductions."

"Oh, don't worry," Violet reassured him and patted his leg affectionately. "You're probably a bit tipsy."

Oh dear God, now she's touching my leg, Sherlock thought. He cleared his throat and shuffled away from Violet a tad. Could get awkward otherwise.

"Try someone else," she said eventually. "See if you're on form again."

Sherlock wasted no time in accurately deducing several other parties. Violet laughed if she thought they were particularly funny or clever observations, but thankfully she didn't feel the need to go over to verify the details with the people involved. Sherlock concluded his showing off by pointing out a couple: a married man and his mistress. He told Violet that the man had also been cheating on his mistress and she wasn't happy about it.

"It's interesting the high percentage of people who come out drinking for the purposes of sex," Sherlock told her. "Did you know—"

"Do you have sex?"

His mouth gaped for a moment, and he had no idea how to respond.

Lie?

But that would make him seem odd. Well, more odd than usual. Everyone needs an outlet somewhere don't they? And if he answered 'No, he didn't', he would then have to explain how he coped with sexual frustration or lack of. But if he answered 'Yes,' well, that just opened that whole other can of worms didn't it?

"Yes, I do."

"With... who?"

She had actually slowed down now, but he had her full attention, dammit.

"With whom," he replied.

"What?"

"You should've asked, With whom do you have sex?"

Violet opened her mouth to speak, while Sherlock raised his eyebrows and waited patiently for her grammatically correct question.

"Um... " she began. "With..."

"People."

"People?"

"Women."

In Sherlock's Mind Palace, Mycroft was sitting at a table with his head in his hands, and a glass of brandy by his side. Meanwhile, John had opened just about every door in the near vicinity, supposedly looking for the bathroom, but he'd neglected to close the doors as he opened them. Secrets threatened to spill out. Mycroft no longer cared.

"What... women?"

Sherlock gestured vaguely around the bar area. It took Violet a moment to connect the bar they were sitting in, with what Sherlock was trying to say.

Her eyes widened before she asked, "You pick up women in bars?"

Dear Lord, Mycroft said into his hands. Close the bloody doors, Doctor Watson!

What? John asked, blinking owlishly as he leant against one door frame. Oh, right.

Sherlock studied Violet's look of incredulity. He wondered why she found that notion so fascinating. He was a male after all. He had needs. This should come as no surprise to her; She'd had (several) previous boyfriends apparently.

"Yes, I do."

Violet stopped rotating her glass and pushed it away from her a little, giving her room to fold her arms onto the table and lean forward toward Sherlock.

"How... how do you do that?"

Her eyes glistened in interest, or drunkenness, whichever it was Sherlock could not be sure. He wanted to choose his words carefully, for he did care what she thought of him now. For God's sake. Why did he?

"How many drinks does it take?" he asked suddenly. It had just entered his mind that she must be reaching some sort of limit.

"Take to what?" she asked, confused at the change in subject.

"Does it take to get you so drunk you forget what you've done the next day?"

"Oh that again," she answered, smiling uneasily. "I don't know..."

"Well, hazard a guess," he said softly, "You're moderately intelligent - you must have some idea."

Violet put her hand around her almost empty glass.

"Maybe six... seven?"

"So, tonight you've had... two shots, the cocktail and this one. Plus...," Sherlock began.

"So that's four."

"Plus the one you had before I came in," he finished. "So that's five."

She smiled shyly at Sherlock.

"I didn't think you'd notice the first one."

A sly grin grew out of one corner of Sherlock's mouth and he sat taller.

"Me? Not notice? The bartender was taking your empty glass away as I came in."

Sherlock stood up and rebuttoned his jacket. It was the perfect time to leave. Violet had clearly consumed enough alcohol.

"I'm just going to the bathroom before we leave. You finish up, then we'll grab a cab outside. Don't forget your coat," he added, before turning and leaving Violet on her own.

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