Title: Stage-Struck
Author: Pompey
Universe: Elementary
Warnings: none
Word count: 791
Summary: The things Joan does for Sherlock and the pursuit of justice.
Prompt: July 31 - Putting on a Show. Canon is full of colourful characters, and we all know Holmes loves an audience for his deductions. Whether it's a grand gesture, breaking the fourth wall, or just the conclusion of a case in front of a crowd, make an audience part of today's entry.
Joan, Sherlock, and Gregson reached the doors to the seating area just as the usher picked himself up off the floor with a groan, holding his freshly bruised jaw. "Police," Gregson said, flashing his badge before the usher could tell them that they couldn't go in there until the show was over. They ducked in immediately.
Applause met their entrance. For half a second Joan wondered how the audience could have anticipated their arrival. Then common sense reasserted itself. The clapping was for the curtain call in progress. Which meant that very soon the entire theater would be full of innocent people wandering around, letting a murderer get away.
"Sherlock," she murmured beneath the sound of enthusiastic clapping.
"I know," he replied softly, naturally having come to the same conclusion. "Gregson, Watson and I will keep the audience in place for about two minutes. The capture will be up to you and your forces."
Gregson looked apprehensive but nodded. Joan looked to Sherlock to communicate her own apprehension but Sherlock grabbed her hand and led her at a dead run around the back of the theater, through a doorway, and up the emergency stairs to the backstage. He ignored the angry whispers from the stagehands and snatched the nearest spare body mic, only releasing Joan to check the batteries and turn it on.
Joan stared out at the expanse of stage in front of her. Though it was filled with bowing, grinning thespians, it looked huge. She didn't know exactly what Sherlock was planning but she did know it would involve going out there, in front of hundreds of people. Joan didn't include public speaking among her personal phobias but going out like this – unprepared, uncertain, and already keyed up – was a shade past mere frightening. Then Sherlock grabbed her hand again and together they walked out under the spotlights.
The applause died back into practically audible confusion. It didn't help that all the actors were staring at them too. Sherlock fiddled one more time with the body mic and held it to the side of his head like a cell phone. "I'm very sorry to interrupt everyone," he said in a passable American accent, "but there is a very important person in the audience tonight that I think we all need to recognize."
Joan caught her breath. He wasn't going to tell everyone that the police had followed a murderer here, was he?!
"Our grandfather, William Escott, has a birthday tonight. He's also a veteran of not only World War II but the Korean War. I'm not going to ask him to stand up – he's got arthritis – but we'd like to lead you all in singing 'Happy Birthday' and our national anthem to a man who's a real hero." Sherlock lowered the mic and held it up between their faces.
Time went a little strange for Joan. Not that it slowed down, exactly, but terror made her exquisitely aware of every microsecond that passed. Of how big the stage was. Of how many eyes were staring at them. Of how hot the lights were. She cleared her throat ineffectively and tried to join in as Sherlock began singing, "Happy Birthday."
Incredibly, the audience joined in. Eagerly. Behind them, the actors with musical training joined in too, even adding some harmonies. But Joan knew from med school that singing "Happy Birthday" took all of fifteen seconds, tops. And did Sherlock, being English and all, know the words to America's national anthem?
Shakily, she chose to start on a note that she hoped was low enough to let her reach the high notes later on. Sherlock quirked one eyebrow at her but followed her lead. A few orchestra members suddenly burst into accompaniment and the audience took up the song, hiding the worst of their missed notes. Thankfully, Sherlock seemed to know most of the words at least.
They drew out "home of the brave" as long and dramatically as they could. The audience cheered. Joan stood awkwardly, unable to see any of the police through the spotlights. What would they do if they hadn't given Gregson and Co enough time?
"Happy birthday, Grandpa!" Sherlock suddenly shouted into the mic with a huge grin, eyes fixed on a certain spot at the back of the theater and waving. The audience lapped it up and turned around, trying to see "William." Sherlock touched Joan's hand and indicated with his eyes that it was time for them to exit, stage right.
"We got him?" she whispered as they speed-walked to the backstage.
"Yes."
Joan felt every muscle in her upper back relax with relief. She just wasn't sure if it was because of the capture or because she was finally off that damn stage.