There She Goes - The La's
"Are you sure you don't want anything dear?" Mrs Hudson asked Ramona. She couldn't get over the fact that she knew all along about Project Guardian, and she hated her for it.
"I said; I'm fine." She snapped at the woman. Sherlock gave her a disapproving and questioning look, which she tried to ignore. Perhaps she was being a little harsh.
He had six laptops open on the table, trying to investigate the mystery of a ghost serial dater.
"You do know there are such things as different tabs, right?" She said. He ignored her as she watched over his shoulder.
"There's nothing the same about the mayfly from their accounts, no unifying factor." He thought for a second. "Not even the women." She bites her lip. As he types to ask them about their jobs, she comes up with something.
"Perhaps..." He looks to her, not realising how close her profile was. He quickly looks back forward. "If they were hiding something he might want to know?" He raises an eyebrow and asks them, and one by one, they log off. The detectives frown.
"Why? Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?" Ramona snorted at the man who obviously had no romantic experience.
"You're missing the obvious, mate." John said, and she nodded.
"Am I?" Sherlock said, turning to him.
"Yeah, he's a man." She said.
"But why would he change his identity?" She nods.
"Maybe he's married." John replied. Suddenly, both Ramona and Sherlock's eyes widen, straightening up, as if realising something.
"Ohh." They say in union.
The morning of the wedding was slow off the mark. Ramona got up with a low groan, as she did most mornings. She hit the top of her alarm violently, as she did most mornings, and dug her face back into her pillow, as she did most mornings. She lay there for a few seconds, before gasping and jumping out of bed, remembering what day it was, and why she had set an alarm on a Saturday.
Ramona went into the kitchen and switched the kettle on and put three slices of bread in the toaster, her groggy blue eyes just about adjusting to the flat. She sat on the counter wrapped in a fluffy baby pink dressing gown, letting out a deep exhale and swinging her legs. She didn't know if she was excited or nervous.
Mrs Hudson didn't come up every morning anymore, as she knew Ramona could at least make tea for the dependent detective. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back to rest on the cupboard, knowing she'd be awake for at least the next twenty four hours.
Suddenly, the serenade of a violin could be heard from the living room, and she opened her eyes to see Sherlock waltzing around the living room, holding an imaginary partner. She raised an eyebrow and sniggered. The music instantly stopped, and Sherlock was now facing her with defensive crossed arms and she thought she saw a slight blush on his face, before it returned to the usual Sherlock-esque composure.
"You can shut up." A corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk, and she held her hands up in a surrender, raising her eyebrows and jumping off from the counter, as the kettle finally boiled.
"I didn't say anything." Ramona stated, taking a teacup and a mug out of the cupboard, putting a teabag in both and filling them full of hot water.
"At least I can dance." She frowned and turned around.
"I can dance." She pouted slightly in embarrassment. "I just choose not to." She turned back around, and jumped slightly as the bread popped up in the toaster, and she began buttering the slices. He snorted in disbelief and light mockery.
"If what you're insisting is true, then dance with me right now." He said, and her eyes widen in shock. She had planned to avoid the dancefloor in slow songs at least, as to not reveal this piece of information, especially not to him. But if she said no, it would let him mock her about this forever. She bit her lip, and then turned around.
"Fine, but I don't see why you won't believe me." The reason she didn't know how was because she had never danced formally in her life. He smirked in satisfaction as she walked over, and he outstretched a hand for her to take. Thankfully, her hands were cold from the kitchen counter, although his were surprisingly warm, for someone who appeared so cold most of the time. He switched the music to start playing from the beginning, and got into position, his hand on her shoulder blade. She did as he did and put hers on his.
He let out a laugh, took her hand and placed it on top of his shoulder. His face was enigmatic with a hidden happiness, and she found herself slightly in awe of his disheveled hair, and his eyes, already so alive so early in the morning.
"You've really never done this before, have you?" She blushed furiously and looked away. It was a humiliation, as dancing like this should be common knowledge. He saw her expression, and realised he was right. This made him feel sad, and disbelieving. This meant she had never been to anything such as a school dance, had never been to anything remotely formal, and most importantly, had never been asked to dance. He couldn't believe that a woman such as herself had never took an outstretched hand, and been led to a dancefloor. "Just follow my lead, I'll teach you." She nodded slightly, ready to become even more embarrassed. He saw this and tried to make it easier. "Do the opposite of my feet with yours." Another small nod, and he smiled down at her, even though she was hiding her face from him.
"Well start with the left box, the simplest." She was extremely aware of his large hand, and his fingers laced with hers. Didn't people usually just clasp hands, instead of actually holding hands while dancing the waltz? "Count in threes and it should be simple." She nodded, yet again. Why was he doing this? Was he enjoying seeing her humiliated yet again, or was he actually trying to help her?
Slowly, he stepped forwards with his left, and she stepped back with her right. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard? He stepped diagonally with his right, and she quickly mirrored him. He then stepped back so that his feet were stood together, and she did the same. He could feel how hard she was concentrating, trying not to slip up in front of him. He stepped back with his right, and then diagonally forward with his left, however at this point, her right foot also went forward, causing her to step on his foot. Her eyes widened in horror and she looked up, expecting to see an angry expression. Instead, there was a gentle smile of bliss she had never seen on his face.
"Sor-"
"Don't apologise." She swallowed. He probably thought she was stupid by this point, not being able to memorise a simple set of instructions. "Shall we try again?" At this point, she noticed how gentle his hand was around hers. She nodded silently.
They tried again, and she began to lose her initial nerves. As her confidence grew, they began to go quicker, and she realised he had been taking it slow for her sake. As they began to add turns, she lifted her head and smiled in delight, dancing for the first time. His lips parted in shock at the expression, her hair bobbing to the steps, her hand holding his tightly, as to not fall. He decided it was one of the best feelings he had ever experienced, as he stared into her eyes, his face now cheerful.
However in the euphoria of learning something new, she forgot herself and yet again stood on his toes, this time harder. It took him off balance as he tried to step forward, and made him fly forwards, causing her to fall back, taking him with her.
Ramona opened her screwed shut eyes, to find that she was lying on the floor. It then became apparent to her that she was being trapped, with Sherlock's body pressed against hers, his face over her right shoulder. She could hear him breathing, and could feel his curls against the side of her face. He grunted slightly, and lifted himself up, his hands either side of her head. This brought his face dangerously close to hers, and they both froze, two pairs of blue eyes wide. She could smell the mint in his breath, the tips of their noses but an inch away.
His face was one of confusion, his brows furrowed and his eyes searching. She realised how he could be seeing her dilated pupils, and could have felt her racing pulse.
She breaks out of the trance he had put her in, and covers his eyes with her hand, pushing him backwards so that they were both knelt facing each other on the floor, still with her hand over his eyes. She smiled and kissed his forehead, and saw how his mouth fall open, also feeling the sudden heat of his cheeks.
"Thank you, Sherlock." She got up and went to get ready, leaving him shell-shocked, knelt on the floor, deciding it was indecent to be having the thoughts he was currently having so early in the morning.
She adored the dress she put on, which was a shade of navy, but not too dark. It had the initial actual dress, that went to the middle of her thigh, had a plunging neckline in the middle of her chest and an open back. There was then a layer of lace to the dress, which had a simple floral design to it, with sleeves to the middle of her forearm, covered the initial dress but didn't cover her chest, fell down and flowed out slightly, which with the open heels she wore almost touched the floor. She also had an expensive white clutch purse and a long silver necklace with a single circular pendant, and long silver earrings, in the shape of leaves. She had waved her hair slightly and put it in a middle parting, how it had cut to be, and her now growing hair just about reached to the bottom of her shoulder plates. She took one last nervous look, and exited her bedroom, to find Sherlock waiting in his best mans suit, stood in the kitchen near the door. As he saw her, he glanced once and then looked again, his eyes wide. She opened her purse to check she hadn't forgotten anything.
"You-" She looked up to see Sherlock, his cheeks flushed with colour, and his eyes, which although were the same blue, looked darker than usual. "You aren't actually wearing that, are you?" She frowned.
"No, I put it on because I'm wearing something else." She shook her head slightly, and went to the kitchen table, looking for the document that confirmed she had booked a room in the hotel the reception was being held, in which most of the wedding guests were staying, as it was out in the country, and it was obviously not an option to drive home the same night.
"Surely it's rude to wear something like that!" She frowned harder, and turned to him.
"How is it rude? I like this dress."
"I like it too," His eyes widen at what he had blurted out. "B-but that's besides the point!" He was rarely flustered, but she could clearly see he was now. "At a wedding, the attention is traditionally centered around the bride, that being Mary. Stealing her spotlight on a day like this is considered extremely disrespectful." She raised an eyebrow, and laughed. He seemed confused at this response.
"Look, I highly doubt anyone's going to be focusing on me when it's their wedding day, alright?" She shook her head and folded the document, putting it into her purse, and snapping it shut. "It's not like I'm pulling an Irene Adler and turning up naked, is it?" She chuckled to herself. At this, Sherlock paused for a second, and then replied, even more flustered than before.
"If you wear that, I'm positive you'll have the attention of all the males in the entire congregation, perhaps even John!" He took a step closer. "Do you really want to ruin their marriage? Is that what this is? Are you trying to take away their happiness?!" She laughed harder.
"Come on Sherlock-"
"Or is it for him?" At this, her laughing stopped. "Are you dressing like that to make him want you even more?" He looked as if he'd figured out the purpose of life. "You haven't had sex in approximately three months and twenty eight days, six hours and seven minutes, could it be that you want tonight to restart the counter?" She looked enraged.
"Restart the counter?! That's literally the creepiest thing I've ever heard!" He swallowed. "What do you also know, my measurements, my sleeping patterns, the underwear I'm wearing, what I'm like in bed?!" She said, half joking at the last one. His reaction made her heart sink in embarrassment and anger, and her jaw drop. He looked away, resembling a puppy with its tail between its legs. "Sherlock." She growled, making him look at her.
"34 - 23 - 35," Her eyes and face were on fire. "On average, five to six hours a night, five on Friday nights and nine on Saturday nights," He looked down as he muttered. "Black lace, and from what I've gathered, very good." She pressed her hands to her burning face.
"Oh my god..." He frowned.
"I don't know what you're embarrassed about, those measurements are perceived in the western world to be better than that of even Irene Adler herself, and there's-"
"Stop talking, please." She took her hands from her face. "And furthermore, how do you know my measurements?"
"Well, when you wear fitted things, it's easy for intelligent people to visualise what you look like-" His last word was drowned out by the beeping of a car horn outside the flat.
"That's my lift." She said, and then looked to him. "And no more visualising me naked, alright?" His eyes widen.
"I-"
"See you later!" She said with a smile and a wave, and left the flat. He exhaled, and leaned against the wall, sinking slightly, mulling over the disaster that had just occured, and wondering how much of an idiot he actually was.
Ramona found a scarlet Ferrari parked outside the flat. A few tourists came out of the cafe and stopped, looking at her and the car she was about to get in, and whispering amongst themselves, hopefully in admiration. She smiled at them, and the girl toddler with them audibly gasped, her eyes widening. She tried to open the door, but it opened vertically, and she rolled her eyes. She got into the low car easily, and the door closed again.
Kain was smiling, looking in the rear view mirror at the group of tourists. He laughed suddenly.
"What is it?" He looked to her with a smile.
"That girl-" He got into gear and expertly reversed, before driving down the street. "Just asked if you were a princess." Her eyes widened and she looked back, but they were already out of sight. She huffed and leaned back, her arms crossed.
"Why'd you have such a flashy car in the first place?" He chuckled, driving through the city. She noticed he was wearing an all black suit, with even a midnight coloured tie.
"You've got to be the most unladylike princess I've ever come across, however." She rolled her eyes, but bit back a smile, turning on the radio.
"Just drive."
"Yes ma'am." Why was it that when she was with him, she could still only think of the man that had taught her to dance, only a few hours ago? Why could she still feel his face against her lips, and his fingers inbetween hers?
"Nice." the photographer states, as he takes a photograph of Molly and Tom.
He moves on to the next nearest couple, who are Mrs Hudson and Mr Chatterjee from the sandwich shop. Apparently the woman with the huge hat had forgiven him for already having two wives. She smiles happily for the camera; He doesn't look quite so happy, shall we say. The photographer turns and takes several pictures of Greg sitting at a table and drinking. Greg, looking a little glum, raises his glass to him and gives a small smile, which actually just made the image even more depressing.
Ramona was watching the photographer on her own, as Kain, a man who looked extremely imposing from all the light colours of the wedding, approached her, carrying two champagne glasses. He hands one to her, and she takes it. Her nails are painted not in the usual black, but this time professionally done, a nude colour upon them.
"How many weddings have you been to, Kain?" He smiled.
"One."
"Including this?" He nodded, and they both laughed. Suddenly, a camera approached them, and before she had time to tell him she didn't want her picture taken, he put an arm around her and kissed her temple, causing her to look shocked as the shutter closed. The photographer chuckled.
"That's one you'll want printed out." Kain looked smug as he left.
"Mm, yes, sexual harassment, really one for the books!" She remarked sarcastically, but they then both laughed. Sherlock watched from a short distance away, next to Janine, and tightened his jaw. Janine looks admiringly at the waiter as he walks past.
Sherlock
"He's nice." Sherlock couldn't help thinking that perhaps he was invisible to the female gender. Although he didn't necessarily want Janine's attention, the way she looked at other men whilst standing right next to him irritated him, probably because it was a reflection of Ramona, to a certain extent. He sniffs deeply.
"Traces of two leading brands of deodorant, both advertised for their strength, suggestive of a chronic body odour problem manifesting under stress."
"Okay, done there. What about his friend?"He follows her gaze into the kitchen, where another waiter is pulling the skewer out from the middle of a large joint of roast beef.
"Long-term relationship, compulsive cheat." He says quickly.
"Seriously?" She exclaims in disbelief.
"Waterproof cover on his smartphone. Yet his complexion doesn't indicate outdoor work. Suggests he's in the habit of taking his phone into the shower with him, which means he often receives texts and emails he'd rather went unseen." She looks up admiringly at him.
"Can I keep you?"
"D'you like solving crimes?" He asks.
"Do you have a vacancy?" She quizzes.
Sherlock's eyes dart to Ramona, champagne glass in hand, laughing in a group with Kain, Molly, and Tom.
"...No." He mutters quietly.
"Sorry?" He snaps out of it.
"Hm? Oh, nothing." He bites his lip. Do I have a vacancy?
And so the wedding starts!
I had a really hard time describing that dress, so if you couldn't get a clear picture of it, or are just curious, google 'John zack plunge neck front lace maxi dress' and it's the navy one on images, it really is a gorgeous dress anyway lol
Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!
