Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I wish I did, but I don't. If I did, I would be convincing Alan Rickman to be Sherlock, not listening to the Original Score of the Phantom of the Opera (MASQUERAAAAAAAAAAAADE!) and typing out this fic. And I would convince Laurie R. King to let me be Mary Russel.

AN: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I know this fic is very strange, with Sherlock's OOC behavior...but I promise you'll like this chapter (read: there's snogging)...

~Fic Starts Here~

The next two days were a furry of activity for both parties.

Mei spent hers getting (against her will) prettied up to the degree of knocking her hairdresser unconscious via hairbrush.

No pearls in HER hair, thank you.

Sherlock had a much more difficult task.

Getting a tuxedo for a coming out ball without looking like he was a suitor.

After walking out of the tenth tailor who had snickered, he wondered if it was worth it.

The clientele, yes.

And then he remembered...

The way her dark hair swirled around her body as she fought...

The long, graceful power of her legs...

The rapidity of her mind...

The way he had felt when she had straddled him...

Holmes stopped abruptly in the streets, nearly getting run over by a cab.

No.

He was NOT going to think anymore of this nonsense. He was NOT falling for a sarcastic chit who had literally beaten him to the ground.

Then sat on him.

That was the part he was having trouble with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no way she could face him.

Not like this.

With a fencing foil, yes.

With a throwing knife, yes.

But with a one-strapped, floor length, nearly backless, wine-colored silk dress, hair up, eye makeup rouge, and painted fingernails?

Hell no.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hated tuxedoes, he really did.

They made him feel as thought he should act suave, debonair, and woman stealing.

Enough said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei was so nervous, she nearly tripped.

Nearly.

"Announcing Miss Mei Lian Tang."

Oh, god. That was their cue to stare at her. She anxiously scanned the crowd for him.

There.

Was he staring at her in the right way?

The way she secretly wanted him to?

She eyed him in a seemingly cool manner as she descended the steps down the stairs to the ballroom floor, jewels sparkling, head held high.

Inside, she was staring in awe at the sight before her.

His hair was swept back in a...there was no other word for it...suave way that had her shivering. He was perfect in his tuxedo...gentlemanly, debonair, but not overpowering with s.a., his eyes held hers, reflecting her cool manner...and...WANT?

Could he be as exited inside as she was?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes he was.

It took all his acting skills to conceal his amazement.

Wine silk. The color set of her skin tone in a way that made him want to brush his fingertips against its buttery smoothness.

And he could seem much of that buttery smoothness.

Her hair was up. He could see the graceful curve of her neck.

The same curve that was echoing throughout her entire figure.

A figure that would put a cubist to despair.

Her eyes were cool, and yet, he felt that he could brush against the fire of her soul.

Good Lord.

She was beautiful.

Beautiful Water Lily.

HIS beautiful Water Lily.

Words did not do her justice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holmes would be her first to approach.

At least she KNEW him.

And he wasn't leering perversely at her.

Not that she didn't want him to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hullo, Holmes."

He almost jumped at her voice. Purringly seductive, it sent a jolting shiver down his spine. It was like warm honey.

Sweet and golden.

"Miss Tang." He brought her delicate hand to his lips. Buttery smoothness.

She shivered. His voice was dark, deep velvet, brushing against her in exactly the right way.

Just like his lips.

She chanced a glance at his hands.

Beautiful.

And then the music started.

A smile twitched upon his lips.

"May I have this dance?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She didn't know how she survived being so close to him and dancing at the same time, but she did.

It was harder dancing with him and dancing with bumbling fools like the Duke of Gloucester.

She excused herself from him, and went over to the champagne table...

And Holmes.

"Having fun?" she asked, helping herself to a glass of bubbly delight.

"I could ask the same of you. How is the Duke of Gloucester?"

"I supposed he's fine, but other than that, all I know is that he appears in King Lear."

"your conversation seems..."

"Fruitless, boring, and I remain unconvinced that I could marry him."

Her? Marry the Duke of Gloucester?

No. She couldn't.

Then it dawned on him. He was the only unrelated male in the room who could not marry the beautiful woman before him.

The woman he loved.

"Ah...indeed. Excuse me."

She watched him speechless, as he left her.

No.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She left early. There was no point. With Holmes gone, she had no one to have an intelligent conversation with.

She wnet upstairs, took her hair down, her dress off, and her red silk robe on.

She sat at her vanity table as she prepared to take her makeup off and...

Someone knocked at her door.

"Com in!" she called, impatiently, expecting her maid, a dress and a hairdo too late.

The sight in her mirror had her gaping, open mouthed.

"Holmes!"

She jumped out of her chair and turned to face him.

"What? How?"

"I merely followed the scent of your perfume. It is very prominent. In fact," he said, cocking one eyebrow, "One might call it a hot scent." (an: that was for aiyah!!! HIDDEN JOKE!"

She blushed. "Oh."

"I thought you'd might like your birthday present in private." He held out a small box.

"O-oh." She mumbled as she took it and opened it gently. "OH!" She laughed delightedly. It was a small, golden, heart-shaped locket on the finest chain she had ever seen.

"Yes. I'm quite fond of poetic justice." He replied, "Here, turn around."

She obeyed as he draped the necklace over her.

Mei shivered, as his fingers seemed to linger over the naked curve of the back of her neck.

"Open it."

She flicked it open and gasped in surprise as a folding lock pick fell out.

"Thought it might be useful."

She turned around and grinned. "Thank you."

It was his turn to stare. She was a Venus de Milo.

And that locket wasn't the only heart she had in her possession.

He drew in a sharp breath as he restrained himself from trailing his lips across her face and that gorgeous neck.

"Y-you're quite welcome." He turned to leave, quickly, before he lost control of himself.

"R-right."

He turned around, concerned by her disappointed tone. "is something amiss?"

She leaned against the post of her bed, trying not to cry. "O-oh no, Holmes. I-I...I, well, just for a second there, I thought that you were going to kiss me. Silly, eh?" she said shakily, a shivery smile on her lips.

He looked at her strangely.

"No, not really."

He crossed the room quickly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his body, as his mouth devoured hers. This time, there was no restraint.

"Oh," she whispered, as his mouth trailed down her neck and then up to the little soft spot under her ear, tongue tracing little curves across her skin.

"Oh, Holmes, you didn't need the lock pick to open up my heart."

He drew away to face her. "Oh?"

"It was already open for you."

Any other conversation beyond that was quite impossible, as Holmes's mouth seemed magnetically attracted to Mei's skin.

"My beautiful water lily," he murmured. "My Mei Lian...

Wo ai ni."

~~~end~~~

AN: there IS going to be an epilogue.

And that Chinese at the end is Mandarin for "I Love You."

Heehee...REVIEW ME!

Ooh...that rhymed...