A rack of clothes materialized in the main holodeck under the watchful eyes of Data and Deanna. As the counselor pawed over each hanging confection, Data remarked, "It seems an excessive use of energy to employ site-to-site transport as a valet."
Deanna fluffed the pleated frill of a sleeve. "Well, what should I have done? Pushed this thing through the halls?"
Data sized up the heavy-laden rack. "The dimensions of the personnel turbolifts are insufficient to accommodate it and a person."
Deanna pulled out a fringed shawl and draped it over her shoulders. "You're sure no one will be able to see through my dressing room?"
"There is a .08% chance that a malfunction in the holoemitters would cause the illusion to fail, a 1.6% chance that a ship-wide emergency would warrant a power shut down to the holodecks, a .0001% chance that a fluctuation in the regular energy cycle would be of great enough variance to-"
"Thank you, Data. So you're pretty sure, but it's not 100% guaranteed?" Deanna asked.
"Correct."
"I'll take my chances." She wriggled her hand into a pearl-gray kid glove. "Ooh, I can't wait. This is so much better than a murder mystery. We just get to dress up and run around and have fun."
"Then, you are looking forward to the diversion, Counselor Troi?"
She pulled on the other glove and secured the tiny pearl buttons. "Of course I am. Isn't everyone?"
Data looked unsure. "No, I do not believe that is the general consensus. It may be that the others are participating out of a sense of obligation."
Deanna laid a leather-clad hand on the android's shoulder. "Listen, Data. I want you to remember this. Sometimes, people humor each other. Everyone can plainly see that you're taken with this Holmes figure, and I can't speak for everyone, but I think it's sweet. If your friends want to do something special for you, let them. It's a reciprocal thing – they get the pleasure of seeing you enjoy yourself, and you get to do something you enjoy. If you stop to worry about whether or not we really want to be here, you've broken down that lovely give-and-take."
Data's confused look deepened. "I am not sure that I understand."
"Just think of it this way: if a mother goes to see her child perform in a play, she's going to applaud, even if the child forgets all his lines. And afterwards she's going to hug him and tell him he was great. It doesn't matter if the play was good or bad, or fun or boring; what matters is that they shared something together. That's what love is."
Data's expression immediately brightened. "Then, the other officers are participating due to their feelings for me?"
"Yes, Data."
"Even Worf?"
"Well," Deanna swallowed her laughter with difficulty. "Maybe it's not exactly love in his case, but it's definitely respect."
"I understand. Thank you, Counselor." Data sounded cheerful now. "Your advice is welcome and appreciated."
He seemed to be delighted, and Deanna found it novel to feel no accompanying emotion. Data looked so boyishly excited, she wanted to hug him and ruffle his hair. It surprised her – she usually considered Data a curiosity, not… The thought pulled her up. Not a person. She searched his yellow eyes, clear, innocent, so like a child's, and wondered how she could be so narrow-minded. Tucking her head down, she gave in to her impulse and embraced him, stopping short of mussing his perfectly arranged hair. When she drew away, Data was looking at her with astonishment.
"Why, Counselor Troi…"
"You really are special, Data." She felt her amusement mix with a warm feeling for him that was quite new. "It's no wonder your friends are getting together to play with you."
Deanna turned back to the rack of clothing while Data blinked rapidly, staring off at the yellow lines of the holoemitters.
"Hmph!"
Geordi and Tasha sat in Ten-forward passing a padd back and forth as they discussed the final details of their plan.
"There should be some surprises," Tasha insisted. "Something unexpected."
"That's a tall order – he wrote the whole program," Geordi replied.
"We'll have to get crafty, then. What if we get him started alone, and then sort of enter one by one?"
"I like it. There's a skeleton plot, but that doesn't mean we have to follow it to the letter. There's the beginning in his apartment…"
"You should go in first, Geordi."
"And then Riker comes in as the Bohemian king."
"And then the flashback to the opera house. You should see Deanna's dress."
"Can't wait. Data built in a changing room for all her costumes."
"Better her than me! And then the scene at Irene's apartment."
"That's the best part." Geordi rubbed his hands in anticipation. "That's when all hell breaks loose."
"I know! That's the part I'm most looking forward to." Tasha smiled and took the navigator's hand. "I know we're doing this for Data, but I can't wait to blow off some steam. Thanks for putting it together."
"We should thank the captain – it's his fault Data's been going around with a pipe and a deerstalker cap."
"A what?"
"The newest addition to the ensemble. You'll see it tonight."
Tasha tapped the padd. "Almost 13:00 – we should get back."
"Right-o. Pip pip," Geordi chirped.
"Cheerio, old chap."
They held straight faces for another second before bursting into giggles.
Will stood in front of the captain's chair. "Set a course for Starbase 115, warp factor six."
"Aye, sir. Course laid in," Geordi answered.
"Engage."
"Cheers, guv'nor. Anchors away," Geordi tried out a bad Cockney accent, garnering looks from the rest of the bridge crew.
Will didn't miss a beat. "That's 'your Majesty' to you."
"Wot's all this imperial poppycock?" Geordi's reply provoked a stifled titter from Tasha.
"Your Majesty?" Wesley asked facetiously.
Worf stood at mission ops, his face stoic. "I will not talk like that tonight."
"Righty-o. A chap's a chap and a chum's a chum," Geordi replied.
Worf muttered something to himself that no one asked him to repeat.
A/N: If you want to know what the heck they're talking about, read "A Scandal in Bohemia," the first story in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It's short, and in public domain. Go ahead. I'll wait for you.