Prompt: At the Christmas Ball

From: Madam'zellG

A/N: I had a habit of throwing socks at my sister when I got her socks instead of my own. So, that's where this silliness came from!

Also, this story is in two parts, part one is in Watson's POV, and the second is Holmes's. Enjoy!

…

"Must we go, Watson?" My friend, Sherlock Holmes, asked me irritably, as I fixed his stubborn tie for him.

"Well, it would be rude not to, Holmes," I replied. "He is your brother, after all." Though, I had to confess, why Mycroft was throwing a Christmas ball at his country estate was beyond me, for he was hardly a sociable man, and not one for philanthropy, either.

Holmes sighed dramatically. "Very well, if I must, my dear Watson," He sighed. "How do I look, old chap?"

"Quite dashing, if I do say so myself." I answered. "Though you'd best get a move on, Cinderella, or it'll be midnight before you arrive." I teased. In response, Holmes thought it dignified to throw a pair of socks in my face.

I smirked, before returning the blow.

…

An hour and a half after the ball started, Holmes and I swaggered in, very late indeed and giggling like schoolboys. Mycroft Holmes raised a disapproving eyebrow at us.

"Sherlock, Doctor Watson, tardiness is hardly becoming of you, gentlemen," he said severely.

"I do apologise, Mycroft," Said I, seeing my friend merely roll his eyes in response. "We… erm…"

"Threw the contents of my sock drawer at each other," Finished Holmes with an unapologetic shrug.

"I had wondered why the good doctor has the socks I bought you last Christmas in his breast pocket," Mycroft drawled. Reddening in the face, I pulled them out and flung them at Holmes, who was spluttering with laughter.

"Consider that payback for the 'Cinderella' remark, my boy," he chortled.

"You could both try to act mature once in a while," Mycroft remarked, partially in jest, but I nearly laughed when Holmes wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"No thank you, Mycroft, we are quite happy as we are, aren't we, Watson?"

"Yes, Holmes," I said, distractedly. "Anyway, Mycroft, may I ask why you are holding a ball?" I asked the elder Holmes.

Mycroft merely tutted in response. "Trust my little brother to keep you in the dark, Doctor Watson!" He said indignantly. "My sincere apologies. This ball is being held in honour of the Kaiser, who is here to discuss the relationship between Russia and Great Britain." He went on to explain this in more detail, but he lost my attention and Holmes's interest before long.

"Watson?" I heard a soft whisper by my side. Curiously, I looked over at Holmes.

"Yes?"

He said nothing, but he gently squeezed my hand, a smile on his normally solemn face. Smiling back, I reciprocated the hand squeeze.

It was at that moment that all the ladies and gentlemen in the ballroom all swept towards the middle of the floor to get ready for a waltz. I exchanged a look with Holmes- but before either of us could move, I was taken, by a woman with gorgeous porcelain skin and brown curls, donning a gown of gorgeous French blue.

I saw Holmes's face suddenly flush scarlet, and I wondered if he was alright.

"Watson," He whispered, frantically. "I do not know how to dance!"

I was about to offer some advice, when I was suddenly whisked away by my partner, and I looked on at my helpless friend.