Dancing With a Shadow
'No.' Ruby blurted before she could stop herself. Something flicked over Sherlock's features, but it was gone before she could identify it.
'No?' Sherlock asked; his head cocked to the side, his hand still outstretched.
'I don't dance.' Those three words didn't quite explain Ruby's strict aversion to this "pleasant" pastime.
'You… don't… dance?'
'Look Sherlock; I understand you need to "observe the room" and all, but can't you just ask someone else? Perhaps someone with a lighter foot?'
'You're afraid of making a fool of yourself as you do not possess the delicate grace and balance necessary for a good dancing partner?'
'Gee, well when you put it like that, how could I possibly decline?' Ruby spat, placing her empty glass on a nearby table. 'Ask someone else, that group of women over there have been giggling over you since we entered this marquee.' She nodded towards the exuberantly dressed ladies at the other end of the dance floor who kept shooting Sherlock hopeful glances.
'I don't want them.'
'And you want me?' Ruby asked sarcastically. Her heart might have migrated into her throat where it continued to hammer madly, but that did not distort her knowledge of Sherlock's character. 'Are you afraid of asking one of those women to dance?'
'Don't be absurd. You are obviously the better match as you're already familiar with my character, there will be no need for small talk and you know why it is that I wish to inflict my presence on the dance floor to begin with. Quite a mouthful to explain to a new lady don't you think?' Sherlock had dropped his hand by now and had stepped closer, his eyes boring down into her own.
'Invading my personal space will not make me yield, Sherlock.' She said while squaring her shoulders.
'Oh, you misinterpret my actions.'
'What are you – Oi! Sherlock, what are you playing at –' His arm had slipped discreetly around her waist and he had abruptly pulled her closer.
'I'm not sure when I gave the illusion that you had a choice in this matter. Refuse me once again and I'll have no problem picking you up and depositing you at the centre of the dance floor. I believe you walking by my side would garner less attention, wouldn't you agree?'
'That's a pretty empty threat Sherlock.'
'You think I'm bluffing?'
'You couldn't pick me up if you tried.' Sherlock's lips quirked at this remark concerning his lean frame.
'Would you care to bet money on such a crass observation?' He practically purred, his eyes dancing with a challenge. Ruby didn't respond, instead her hands shot out and she gave Sherlock's upper arms a firm squeeze and was genuinely surprised to find his biceps springing to attention beneath her fingers.
'Satisfied?' Sherlock drawled after a decidedly awkward pause.
'How do you have muscle tone?' Ruby asked with her mouth hanging open exasperatedly, an expression only exaggerated by her heavy make-up. 'You don't eat; I'm surprised you haven't contracted scurvy or something.'
'I eat enough to sustain myself and knowledge of martial arts explains my wiry strength, though my lean frame always allows for enemies to underestimate me, leading to their inevitable downfall in a physical confrontation.' Ruby allowed herself a moment to imagine a teenage Sherlock kitted out in judo robes championing over some 6'4 ripped competitor, scoffing at his dreadful execution of the simplest techniques.
'I hate dancing.' Ruby admitted in a defeated voice, her hands sliding from his upper arms and returning to her sides.
'Dancing is just another mating ritual devised by sex-starved idiot's centuries ago. There's nothing to it, just follow my lead.' Sherlock said pompously. Ruby stared wide-eyed at Sherlock for a moment, feeling slightly nauseated by what could only be described as a horrifically accurate description. 'Are you feeling alright? You suddenly look pasty despite the frankly ridiculous amount of foundation you're wearing.'
'Take it up with my make-up artist.' Ruby snapped, silently vowing that she would never dance with anyone ever again after helping Sherlock out with his observations. 'C'mon then. Let's get this over with.' Ruby hissed, pulling away so Sherlock's arm fell from her waist. However, she made the split decision to grab his falling hand and lead him towards the dance floor, her small fingers barely managing to cover the back of his broad palm.
'Your heart beat is worryingly elevated.' Sherlock commented and Ruby realised with a start that he could feel the pounding of her fickle heart through their joined hands.
'Yours would be too if you were about to confront a severe phobia.' She said in a firm voice, trying to convince herself of this thought as well as Sherlock. Seconds from now, their bodies would be pressed against each other for at least a solid three minutes and the last time this had occurred, neither had been very interested in creating small talk.
The orchestra finished their last song which was honoured with a smattering of applause. Ruby dropped Sherlock's hand and faced him, feeling for a moment truly vulnerable as she hesitated to cross the gap separating them.
'Why are you so worried?' Sherlock's voice was dipped in annoyance as his sharp eyes scanned her like a machine.
'I… I'm really not good at this and there's so many judgmental idiots watching –'
'Exactly. Idiots. Don't waste a second caring for what's going on inside their empty little heads.'
'Then there's you. And we both know I care about what goes on in there.' She tapped his forehead housing arguably the best brain Britain had ever produced. Ruby blamed the White Russian for coaxing a slightly deeper explanation than she was wholly comfortable with regarding her uncertainty with Sherlock.
'And you think a lightness of foot can enhance or degrade my impression of you? Dear me Ruby, you call yourself a detective with such a poor grasp of my character? Disappointing…' He shook his head for a moment before stepping closer, his shoes just brushing against the tip of her heels. 'If it's of any consolation, I happen to be a superb dancer. It's the violin; it allows me to keep exquisite timing.' One arm returned to her waist, while the other very delicately encompassed her hand. Ruby lightly placed her hand on Sherlock's shoulder and felt her thoughts lose track of themselves as their bodies pressed lightly against one another. 'It's easier than breathing. And we both know how dull an exercise that is.' Sherlock said in a pompously reassuring manner.
Instead of the orchestra continuing, a spotlight suddenly burned its way onto the raised platform and Ruby let out an audible gasp as a woman in a floor length white gown entered with a chaste smile and approached the microphone placed at the centre of the podium.
'Oh my…' Ruby stared at the beautiful young woman onstage, not quite believing who was to perform the next song.
'Someone you know?' Sherlock asked.
'Not personally, just an admirer from afar… but how?' Ruby shook her head for a moment before returning her attention to Sherlock. 'You have no idea who that is… do you?' She asked.
'She's unnecessary to my inquiries.'
'That's Lana Del Rey, Sherlock. The woman with a ridiculously sultry voice and seductive philosophy concerning life.'
'Which is…?'
'Give her album a listen and maybe you'll find out.'
'Hmm, modern music. Dull.'
Ruby could only smile as the starting notes signalled the unveiling of one of her favourite songs. It was a highly dysfunctional one about love, drugs and all the horrible things money could buy; entitled: National Anthem.
Money is the anthem
Of success
So before we go out
What's your address?
A truly surreal air took over the marquee as Lana's dulcet tones drastically changed the atmosphere, lending towards a more sinister and indulgent ambience. Ruby momentarily forgot her fears of clumsy feet and allowed Sherlock to guide her in neat circles around the dance floor.
I'm your National Anthem
God, you're so handsome
Take me to the Hamptons
Bugatti Veyron
'A song about rich morons?' He murmured after the second verse.
'Probably.' Ruby replied, suddenly finding their closeness as a source of comfort rather than a trigger of heart palpations. 'You need to do your observing gig right?' She asked.
'I'm doing so.'
'You probably need me to move my head out of the way.' She said, attracting his curious gaze which was trying so very hard not to betray his lack of understanding.
'Your head?' He asked with a raised brow.
'It must be in the way of your observations.'
'I don't follow.'
He loves to romance them
Reckless abandon
Holdin' me for ransom
Upper echelon
'Well, compare your current line of sight with this one.' Ruby felt the bizarre sense of courage flow through her veins, returning with unexpected familiarity after her last excursion with Sherlock and alcohol. After moving even closer (she didn't think that was actually possible) she leant her head against the shoulder her hand rested on, her nose nestled against Sherlock's neck. She felt him momentarily flinch from the unexpected contact but to her pleasant surprise, he did not pull away. 'Better?' She whispered, her nerves jangling in the aftermath of the boldness of her move.
'Much.' Sherlock replied softly.
He says to "be cool" but
I don't know how yet
Wind in my hair
Hand on the back of my neck
I said, "Can we party later on?"
He said, "Yes, yes, yes"
He continued to lead them around the floor, observing his surroundings with that sharpness he was so famous for, never relaxing his grip on the woman in red cradled against him.
Tell me I'm your National Anthem
Ooh, yeah baby, bow down
Making me so wow, wow
Tell me I'm your National Anthem
Sugar, sugar, how now
Take your body down town
Red, white, blue's in the sky
Summer's in the air and
Baby, heaven's in your eyes
I'm your National Anthem
'I do have one question.'
'Oh?' Ruby asked, unknowingly sending chills down Sherlock's spine with her breathy response.
'There's a man who ever since we began dancing, has been sending me glares of the most threatening, not mention hilarious manner.'
'Describe him to me.'
'You're not going to look?'
'Mmm, nope.' Ruby nuzzled the side of Sherlock's skin ever so slightly to prove said point.
Money is the reason
We exist
Everybody knows it, it's a fact
Kiss, kiss
'Above average height. Blonde hair. In excellent physical condition. Wearing a suit tailored specially for him and fitted with one carat diamond cuff links. A gold pocket watch, his father's, is leaning casually out of the breast pocket. He's recently passed away and the man believes that this display of a family heirloom will endear him to those in his social circle when in reality; he comes across as a trust-fund baby who has finally come into the money he has always felt was unfairly kept from him. And judging by the furious look in his eyes, he will insist later to buy me a drink which he will, in a painfully obvious way, deposit a small amount of poison into.'
'Oh. That must be Charles Bloom. As I'm sure you've deduced he holds a grudge, an exceptionally long one with regards to me.'
I sing the National Anthem
While I'm standing over your body
Hold you like a python
And you can't keep your hands off me
Or your pants on
See what you've done to me
King of Chevron
'Your rejection must have been particularly harsh to incur such a long-standing wrath.'
'My rejection was perfectly polite. My sister's on the other hand…'
'And what exactly did Dianne do?'
'When he wouldn't back off, she, eh, decked him.'
'Ah, that explains the broken nose. Not exactly the most galling story, I'm sure he replaced it with one of how he heroically saved a girl from being stabbed while defending himself with his bare fists.'
He said to "be cool" but
I'm already coolest
I said to, "Get real,"
"Don't you know who you're dealing with
Um, do you think you'll buy me lots of diamonds?"
'It's fair to say that the Smith sisters ruffled his pride.' Ruby giggled against Sherlock's skin. 'If you've taken an intense dislike to him and you really want to get under his skin, I'll give you a free pass –punch-free I promise– to grab my ass.' Sherlock actually stopped midstride and stared down at Ruby who couldn't maintain her poker-face and burst into a fit of silent laughter, reluctantly pulling away from Sherlock's shoulder. 'When I need a camera, I don't have one. My memory has to remember your face.' She said while hungrily devouring Sherlock's thunderstruck expression. The very notion of Sherlock grabbing anyone's ass in public was truly ludicrous.
Tell me I'm your National Anthem
Ooh, yeah baby, bow down
Making me so wow, wow
Tell me I'm your National Anthem
Sugar, sugar how now
Take your body down town
Red, white, blue's in the sky
Summer's in the air and
Baby, heaven's in your eyes
I'm your National Anthem
'Move.' Sherlock said through gritted teeth as he tried to guide the forever giggling Ruby around the dance floor. She slowly managed to regain control of her laughter, turning it down to a manic grin as Sherlock continued to lead her with a greater force around the dance floor. 'Put your head back, I don't like to see this Charles Bloom's glare relaxing if I can help it.'
'But Sherlock –'
'It makes for easier dancing too.' Sherlock quipped, sending her a look which yelled at her to not argue with him.
It's a love story for the new age
For the six page
Want a quick sick rampage?
Wining and dining
Drinking and driving
Excessive buying
Overdose and dyin'
On our drugs and our love
And our dreams and our rage
Blurring the lines between real and the fake
Dark and lonely
I need somebody to hold me
He will do very well
I can tell, I can tell
Keep me safe in his bell tower, hotel
'You could just admit it you know.' Ruby mumbled against his neck.
'Admit what?'
'That you like this.' She felt heat rush to her cheeks at this remark.
Money is the anthem
Of success
So put on mascara and your party dress
'What absurd nonsense are you spewing now detective? As you correctly noted, your head placed where it is allows me full observation of our surroundings.'
'This is true, but instead of looking for Mycroft's men, all you've commented on is a man highly jealous of our dancing.'
I'm your National Anthem
Boy, put your hands up
Give me a standing ovation
Boy, you have landed
Babe, in the land of
Sweetness and Danger
Queen of Saigon
'If I spoke of every single thing I observed, I would never stop talking.' Sherlock sharply spun them out of the way of a neighbouring couple who appeared set on crashing into them.
'So you've identified Mycroft's men?'
'Ages ago. Mycroft's losing his touch, it was child's play.'
'When you say you observe everything… are you observing me?'
'Obviously.'
'Tell me what you see.'
Tell me I'm your National Anthem
Ooh, yeah baby, bow down
Making me so wow, wow
Tell me I'm your National Anthem
Sugar, sugar how now
Take your body down town
Red, white, blue's in the sky
Summer's in the air and
Baby, heaven's in your eyes
I'm your National Anthem
'An open invitation to analyse you? I don't see how our friendship could benefit from such a deduction; you'd take offence and think I was insulting you.'
'Isn't an insult an honest description of someone's flaws?'
'No-one wants an honest description of themselves.'
'Why do you think that is?'
'They can't handle the truth. The world is built on lies as I'm sure you've realised by now.'
Money is the anthem
God you're so handsome
Money is the anthem
Of success
'I can handle it.'
'Hush now.' Sherlock's hand slid away from her waist and Ruby thought he was going to remove it completely. Instead, he delicately placed it on the small of her back, which thanks to a lack of material, was completely naked. His touch was cool against her flushed skin, inspiring chills to ripple outwards from his smooth hand, his fingers delicately tracing patterns along the curve of her spine.
Money is the anthem
God you're so handsome
Money is the anthem
Of success
Ruby exhaled sharply at his touch but did nothing to remove herself from his hypnotic grasp. She closed her eyes and allowed him to blindly lead her around the dance floor, a snoozing part of her mind convinced that Sherlock was doing about as much observing of his surroundings as she was.
Money is the anthem
God you're so handsome
Money is the anthem
Of success
His warm skin pressed against her nose, his smell, the gentle way his fingers intertwined around her own were all heightened by the severing of her primary sense. She trusted him to successfully guide her around the floor without incurring some sort of embarrassing disaster, feeling a silent emotional bond develop between the two of them as their lack of conversation was replaced with the now smooth movements of their bodies. This was a language which traversed the fickle barriers words inflicted on the human race, allowing for an expression of sentiment which neither Ruby nor Sherlock had the courage to vocalise.
Money is the anthem
God you're so handsome
Money is the anthem
Of success
Lana's hypnotic voice faded into the surroundings of the marquee and as the curtain fell around her, it took their momentarily perfect atmosphere with it. Ruby felt Sherlock come to a halt and her eyes snapped open, knowing their moment was over. She felt reluctant to leave him, knowing such physical closeness was not in their near future and her mind hummed with the knowledge that not only had she enjoyed the close contact, she desired for more. Ruby kept her eyes averted as she stepped out of their embrace, not wanting to expose what must be the most dilated pupils in the entire marquee. She didn't have to make an excuse; Sherlock had already muttered one and stomped off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the strip of night at the marquee's entrance at his usual speedy pace. The loud step of an expensive shoe failed to make an impression on her senses until a tap on her shoulder roughly brought her attention back to her surroundings.
'Evening Lady Smith. The next song was one I thought would benefit from our presence on this dance floor.' Ruby stared at Charles Bloom for a long moment, feeling a seething hatred bubble around in the pit of her stomach. How could she possibly dance with such a twit after… that? 'Now would be good, we won't reach the centre of the floor before the next song begins.' His hand clad in a few ugly but expensive rings, dug into her shoulder-blade and he forcefully began guiding her towards the centre of the floor. Ruby regained control of her body a moment later and wrenched Charles' wretched fingers from her shoulder. 'Lady Smith, what the hell –'
'Listen closely Charles I'm-such-a-posh-twat Bloom. Shut your mouth and never touch me again.'
'And what makes you think you have such power over me?' He hissed, his face contracting with such fury it turned his skin puce.
'My left hook is stronger than my sister's; I'll make your nose irreparable. Then I'll shut your mouth by kicking your teeth down your throat and everyone in this room will know you lost a fight to a girl.' Her eyes blazed at the spoilt brat before turning on her heel and marching towards the exit of the marquee, creating quite a dramatic exit as her dressed billowed behind her like some ferociously beautiful cape.
She didn't care for the curious looks chasing after her; she had a consulting detective to find.
Gosh I cannot believe how many bloody reviews I received in the space of 48 hours! What! You guys, seriously, what!? Why the shower of love? My poor nerves can't handle all of this appreciation. And to Samantha Drake, you cheeky devil, fine tricksy hobbits! Your surprise (Which I still have to write because when I made the offer of posting a treat if I reached 200 reviews was one I did not realise you guys would so quickly meet) should be posted no later than Friday. At least I know what the surprise is and don't have to think of one! Phew on the ideas front! Now, onto this actual chapter, which hopefully gave you a giggle and a squeal. Lana Del Rey is a beautiful poet and I had to at some point include her and with this setting... I couldn't resist. Her song "National Anthem" I felt perfectly harmonized with Ruby's cynical view of the seriously upper class members of British society. I tried to keep Sherlock in character... ah but a twist lies ahead, beware my readers, beware! Until Friday, adieu adieu. I hope I made you smile today.
