Today is your lucky day! You got Chapter 14, and it's the longest one yet! This is where the teen drinking comes in. If I am wrong in anything revolving around the drinking, well, that's because I can't legally drink, and even the smell makes me terribly sick. Anyway, this chapter details the New Year's shenanigans. I hope you enjoy, my lovelies.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. All rights belong to BBC, Mofftiss, and Sir ACD. I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter, and I don't own Star Trek.
When they were well on their way to America, Molly began to fidget.
"What's the matter, love," Sherlock asked.
"Sometimes, I feel like I want a soundtrack to my life, so I can dance when ever. Especially when I have a song that fits the situation perfectly."
"Which song we you thinking of?"
"Well, you've got the aspiring government official with his slightly sociopathic tendencies and ridiculous deductive skills, and the biker dude-slash-aspiring detective inspector, who have the hots for each other. Totally adorable, by the way. You've got the self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath of a detective, his aspiring pathologist girlfriend, his aspiring soldier-slash-doctor-slash-adrenaline junkie bestie, and the bestie's girlfriend, who seems to be the only normal one of the six of us."
"Sorry, Mary's trained in all forms of self-defense, is a deadly shot, and has a photographic memory. She's as freakish as the rest of us."
Molly grinned. "That's what I'm talking about. By the worlds standards, we're a bunch of freaks." She stood and plugged her iPod into the stereo. "Raise Your Glass" by P!nk began to play. Molly pulled Sherlock to his feet. "Dance with me!"
The two bopped through the first lines, and then Mary dragged John up. "Random dancing," she squealed.
Greg and Myc both awkwardly sat, not daring to ask the other to dance. It wasn't until the second verse that Molly grabbed Greg and Sherlock grabbed his brother, and they threw the two into each others arms.
"Let loose, Myc!"
"Freak out, Greg!"
Blushing, the boys joined the circle, bumping hips shyly. Sherlock winked at the two of them. And thus, the six teens created the world's smallest mosh pit, right there on the airplane.
Molly's random urge to dance had loosened the six of them up considerably. If music was alcohol, then all them were drunk. Eventually, Molly's iPod had died, so the teens continued their little party by Sherlock burning rosin on his violin, and Molly and Mary crooning various songs as loudly as they could. Finally, the captain yelled over the PA: "Please take your seats and buckle up. Landing."
When they landed, the girls squealed to see that Mycroft had arranged for a stretch limo to pick them up.
"Myc, you're the best," Molly exclaimed.
He smiled. "I try."
The limo had three sunroofs. Molly whispered in Mary's ear.
"Crank the heat, crank the tunes, and open the roofs," Mary ordered. When the roofs were open, Mary yanked John up to his feet, their heads and shoulders sticking through. The other four followed suit, both because they wanted to, and because the radio, which was blasting "Good Time," was unbearably loud in the confines of the vehicle.
"Sing along, New York," Molly called.
The teens got deafening cheers from the passerby, and many of them sang along with them.
Molly laughed and threw her arms about Sherlock's neck, leaning in to kiss him soundly.
"Je t'aime, Sherlock!"
"Je t'aime, Molly!"
They checked into the hotel, which was close to Times Square. Myc had secured a penthouse for them. It had three bedroom suites, a living area, a kitchen, and a balcony, which had entrances to each bedroom and to the living room.
"Myc, this is wonderful," John commented.
"Good. I had some of the best selections from the liquor cabinet sent over."
Sherlock smirked. "You had dad's scotch and whiskey sent over didn't you?"
"I don't see you complaining."
Greg walked straight over to to the minibar. "I'm all for scotch on the rocks."
John, Mary, and Molly went to arrange their rooms, while Myc took his brother into his room.
"Greg seems...nice," Mycroft began. He cleared his throat.
Sherlock smiled and placed a hand on his brother's shoulders. "Myc, if you're asking my permission, then you know what my answer's going to be. I fully support you."
Myc smiled. "Thank you, for that, Sherlock. It's just… I've always said that sentiment is a chemical defect."
Sherlock laughed. "I can't believe I'm saying this. You're wrong, Mycroft. I think that there are some times in life when we must be careful that our emotional ties do not cloud our judgements. I've also learned that life isn't worth living without love."
"So you're saying I should go for it?"
Sherlock nodded.
Mycroft nodded. "You go on ahead. I'll finish here."
Sherlock walked out to find that Greg was pensively sipping on his scotch.
"Look, Sherlock."
The raven-haired boy rolled his eyes. "I just had this conversation with my brother. You have my blessing and I think you should go for it."
Greg grinned. "You know, if that consulting detective gig doesn't work out, you'd make a hell of a psychic."
The boys began to laugh, when the other four exited the rooms.
"Do we get to hear the joke," Molly inquired.
Greg took another sip of scotch. "Nothing much. Just that your boyfriend's a psychic."
Sherlock assumed a mystical look. "I know all, and see all."
Molly laughed. "According to Meena, you made a thousand pounds pretending to be psychic."
Sherlock coughed. "One thousand and forty-three."
Greg poured a scotch for everyone. Of course, the boys drank the scotch like old pros. Mary, though she was new to scotch, also sipped on the drink like a champ.
Molly eyed the beverage pensively. "Never had a scotch before," Sherlock asked, smirking into his tumbler. Molly blushed, and took a sip. Her face scrunched in a look of disgust.
"Not a fan," Myc quipped.
Molly shook her head, and held her tumbler out to Sherlock. "Here you take it."
He grinned, and drank it. Molly walked into the kitchen, and spotted a wine rack. "Ah, this is more my speed." She pulled out a bottle of Merlot, and tapped her chin. "You know what would go nicely with this Merlot? Some Chinese takeaway."
Mary chuckled, "I'm in. Someone find the phonebook."
They called down to the concierge, asking them to send someone to get their takeaway.
When it arrived, the teens chowed down, each downing at least two glasses of Merlot with their lo mein.
"Not quite like home, is it," Greg asked.
"Well, it's food, so I'm not complaining," Myc answered.
Sherlock snorted. "You never complain about food, Myc."
Myc scowled at him. "Well, I'm sorry that I enjoy all facets of the culinary arts."
"Like cake," Sherlock retorted.
"Yes, like cake," Myc replied indignantly.
A grin crept onto Greg's face. "What's your favorite kind of cake? Mine's marble."
Myc gasped. "Really? Mine is too."
Greg's grin had become slightly more manic. "You know what I'm hungry for now? Marble cake!" He ran over, picked up the phone, and and dialed the number for room service. "Yeah room service? Can we get some marble cake up here?"
Myc grabbed the phone out of his hand. "And perhaps some caramel Cadbury eggs if it's not too much trouble."
Sherlock chuckled. "Great. The Sweet Tooth Twins."
While the two bantered back and forth about what sweets they wanted, Sherlock and John went over to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine for Molly, and another tumbler of scotch for everyone else.
In the time it took for the teens to empty their glasses again, the bellboy arrived with Mycroft and Greg's sweeties.
Mycroft, even though his tolerance for scotch was high, as he had a glass every night, was still a little bit more than tipsy, and was in good cheer when he opened the door.
The bellboy had given Mycroft, who was more than a little tipsy when he opened the door, a suspicious look, but Myc had provided a generous enough tip for him to keep his mouth shut.
Myc, with Greg in tow, dragged the cart over to the teens.
In the meantime, Mary and Molly had been perusing Netflix, and decided on "Star Trek: Into Darkness."
"That Kirk is to die for. Meow," Mary sang.
Molly raised a brow. "I don't know. Khan's pretty dreamy." She rolled her tongue.
"Hey, we're right here." John pouted, gesturing to himself and Sherlock.
"Aww," Mary snarked. "Feeling jealous?"
John scoffed. "Of him? You'll have to up the ante."
Mary smirked. "What about Spock?"
John's face fell. Greg whistled. "She's got you there, Johnny boy. Spock is...whoo boy."
"Hey," Myc whined a bit. Greg smiled and shoved a piece of chocolate in his mouth, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "He's got nothing on you, Myc."
Sherlock smirked, elbowing Molly and eyeing the pair. Molly giggled.
"You know," Mary said, "I really think that Benadryl Cucumberman, or whatever his name is, really looks like Sherlock."
Molly nodded. "You're right. Sherlock's a dead ringer for him."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I do not look like that!"
Molly grinned. "Yes, you do."
When the movie ended, they found a news channel so that they could watch the ball drop. Then Mary and Molly found a radio station playing American "oldies," inciting another dance party. This dance party was much more wild than the one on the plane had been. Despite the cold New York winter outside, the teens worked up quite the sweat, dancing like their lives depended on it. Combine this with the level of alcohol that had been consumed that night, and you get six teens who have no qualms about stripping off their clothing.
Mary stripped off her tights, shoes, and blouse, leaving her in her tank top and mini skirt. John stripped off his shirt, and ended up clad only in his corduroys.
Myc had his tie hung around his head, and his button-down shirt hung open, his jacket neglected on the floor. Greg was devoid of both his jacket and his t-shirt.
Molly had on only her leggings and a camisole. Sherlock, well Molly, had removed his shirt, leaving him in only his jeans.
At 11:59, the stereo was blasting Frankie Valli's "Oh What a Night." The six of them had been basically moshing all night. When this song began, Greg held a hand out to Myc. "Care to dance love?"
Myc bit his lip, and blushed, taking Greg's hand.
Greg placed one hand on Myc's waist, pulling Myc's hips tight against his, and grasping one of Myc's hands with the other. Greg then led the two in a small circle.
John grabbed Mary's hands and pulled her body flush against his, swaying side to side.
Sherlock opened his arms to Molly. She squealed ever so slightly, and ran to him jumping up in his arms. He swung her around before setting her back on her feet.
Suddenly, the kids reverie was broken by the shouts of the countdown, "Ten...nine...eight...seven...six.."
The six kids ran out to the balcony, leaning over the railing to watch the ball drop, and chanting along with the crowd below. "Five...four...three...two...one...HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
The teens cheered loudly,
Myc shyly pecked Greg on the lips, and pulled away, his cheeks crimson. Greg grinned and pulled him back for a real and proper kiss.
Mary didn't give John a chance to kiss her; she'd already pulled him into their room.
Molly turned and grinned at Sherlock. She couldn't recall seeing his grin quite so wide, and in that instant was compelled to kiss his smiling mouth.
She reached a hand up to tangle in his raven curls, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. Sherlock looped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Molly squeaked, and smiled into the kiss. She pulled away long enough to whisper, "Je t'aime."
A/N: Did you like it? I hope you did. I couldn't resist mentioning Star Trek. This is a big ball of cheese, but it's how all my New Year's go, but instead of alcohol, we drink soda suicides created by yours truly! I am the only one who can make one that tastes like bubblegum (which is disgusting to actually drink, but still highly impressive). And I've never had anyone to kiss at midnight. Oh well. I have a busy week this week, but I will try to update ASAP. In the meantime, please review or PM me. If you want to follow me on Tumblr, my screen name is peanutbuttersnickerdoodles. Weird, I know, but I was really hungry when I made my Tumblr. Love you all! xx