Chapter 6.
Mrs Hudson was on the war-path.
Her face was taunt and her mouth draw into a thin line as she made her way up to Holmes' chambers. How dare he steal her sweets! She needed those little balls of chocolate heaven for when he had his broody days and the poor walls took a battering, or priceless glass got shattered. She reached the door, hands poised over the handle when she spied the hand-written note pinned at eye-level. She had to squint at the neatly curled script, taking a moment to realize that it was Holmes' hand.
Dear Nanny, please do not disturb. The doctor and I would like to suffer in peace. We will call if we need you. SH.
She growled low in her throat, fingers curling around the brass handle. Damn him to hell! She was going to go in there like a tornado and retrieve what was left of her chocolates. She knew, from previous nights, that the doctor took one of his remedies (after a heavy drinking session with Holmes) like a good little boy and slept it off in Holmes's bed while the detective was on the tiger rug normally suffering with a mind-splitting hang-over and crawling on all fours in the dark, whimpering like a hurt puppy.
Her hand was just about to press down on the metal when she noticed the second line of neat writing:
P.S. the box below is for you. I believe they are your favorite. There's no need to kill me now!
Under the words Sherlock had drawn a smiley face. Mrs Hudson glanced down; sure enough there was a small, round box with a pink bow. She picked it up, carefully untied the ribbon, prising the lid off and peeked inside. "Oh, Mr Holmes…" In a nest of duck egg blue tissue paper sat twelve balls of chocolate. She lifted one to her lips and took the tiniest bite, a pleasing smile flickered across her face as her teeth broke the milk chocolate skin: the outside of each one had been lightly dusted with a fine layer of dark cocoa, inside, the candy ball was filled with her favorite strawberry cream. Finishing the treat Mrs Hudson looked fondly at the door, the note pinned to it and then the box in her hands. With a contented sigh she shook her head, turned and shuffled back down the stairs muttering under her breath something that sounded like, "Boys."
John nuzzled into his pillow breathing deep. His arm edged over the mattress until his fingers slid over a patch that was still luke warm. His eyes snapped open as the memories of the previous night and the early hours of the morning came forward. Scrambling up into a sitting position the thin sheet pooled at his waist, "Oh God." He muttered holding his head in his hands for two reasons: the first for betraying Mary and, if he was honest, Holmes. The second because of the pounding ache in his skull. How much had he drunk last night? Slowly lowering his shaky hands John looked around the room finding no sign of Tony…
Tony. His name was Tony. Not Holmes but Tony.
He leaned over the side of the bed coming up with a crumpled shirt and slipped it over his head. Gingerly getting to his feet John shuffled over to the door and inched it open. Straining his ears he could just make out a faint conversation.
"Now that's done we can get on with the more important stuff. JARVIS?"
"I'm not sure stripping the suit was a good idea, sir. Can you re-build with such primitive methods?"
"Ah, JARVIS! Don't bum me down. Of course I can! Or have you forgotten I'm a genius?"
"I haven't forgotten."
Tony sighed, "OK…hope this works."
"Tony?" He turned hearing the voice from the doorway and instantly felt all the blood in his body rush south. Jesus… Standing in the doorway leading to the bed-room stood John. He was wearing a wrinkled shirt, and by the looks of things, little else. His hair was mused and sticking up all over the place, his blue eyes were soft and sleepy. "Tony?"
"Hey, Doc. Sleep well?" John flushed and Tony was delighted to see that it when all the way down. "I slept like a baby. Nothing wears me out like a good, hard shag." The flush deepened and John looked away. "Aw… Did I embarrass you?" he shrugged half-heartedly. "Sorry."
"Who are you talking to?" John inched into the room slowly, his eyes darting around in case something jumped out. "What are you wearing?" He asked when he was close enough.
Tony looked down: he was dressed in a pair of loose fitting trousers held up with a belt, and one of Holmes' under-shirts. But it was what he was wearing over that had captured John attention. Ah…
It was like this: while John was still sleeping Tony had taken the time to strip the suit, getting it ready for re-modeling. He was wearing the Iron-Man gauntlets, boots and controlling bandolier, the exposed wires gathering at his chest and plugged into the Arc reactor. "I'm testing something out. You wanna help?"
John eyes snapped to his, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Come closer." John did until they were nearly toe to toe. Tony smirked, "A bit more." John's cheeks reddened shuffling forward again. Tony's smirk widened he held out his arms, "Come on. On you get."
"Seriously? What if something goes wrong?"
"Nothing will go wrong. If I've done my math right, which I always do, and JARVIS is watching my back-OH! You haven't met JARVIS yet." He shook his head and then pointed to the table where a gold and red mask sat amongst the piles of books and papers. John hadn't noticed it when he walked in, now he had he gave Tony an unconvinced look. Tony just smirked smugly. "JARVIS, say hello to Doctor Watson."
"Good-day, Doctor." John jumped, actually jumped into Tony's arms upon hearing the ghostly voice. Tony pulled him up so his feet gently rested on the boots, his body flush against his, slowly drawing John's arms up and around his neck. "We are ready, sir."
"That's good." John wiggled against him into a more comfortable position, trying to keep the talking head in sight, "That's very good." He purred huskily. John edged his head back slightly with narrowed eyes. A sheepish look crossed his face. "You keep wriggling. Now, hold on tight." John nodded resting his head on Tony's shoulder, fingers clutching the thin fabric of the under-shirt. "Okay, JARVIS. Bring it up to 2 per-cent. Nice and slow."
"Powering up."
Slowly but surely the two rose into the air. Tony had his arms out, keeping his balance like a tight-rope walker. Once they were air-borne and a few feet away from hitting the ceiling, Tony nudged John who lifted his head a little. "Check it out." He murmured gesturing with his head. John blinked and looked down. Instantly his blue eyes widened, a tiny whimper left his lips and he clung tighter. "Hey. It's OK. John, it's OK."
"But…but we're flying!" He blinked and said it again much slower, "We're flying." He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "We're bloody flying!" His blue eyes sought out Tony's brown, "Are we safe? Aren't we too heavy?"
Tony chuckled, "Naw. Like this we weigh about the same as if I was wearing the completed suit. We're fine." Manipulating the gauntlets they shifted around little by little, Tony's grin growing every time John made small sounds of admiration. They nearly crashed into the ceiling a couple of times, John reaching up and running his fingers-tips over the swirling decorations. "Pretty neat, huh?"
"It's amazing! I can't wait to see the finished suit. Is it as Holmes described?"
"What did he say about it?"
John smiled bashfully, looking at him from under his lashes, "He said it was a mechanical marvel. The most beautiful, poetic thing he'd ever seen." Tony was silent for a second and then leaned forward, softly brushing his lips against John's. "What was that for?" He asked when they parted. Tony just shrugged and ordered JARVIS to power down and get ready for repairs.
Later in the day, after they had dressed, John was munching on some left-over fruit and biscuits standing over the papers of the Iron-Man suit trying to make some sense out of them. The bedroom door opened and Tony walked out in Holmes' attire, and raised a brow. Tony grinned bashfully at him grabbing a handful of grapes stuffing them into his mouth while slipping on Sherlock's over-coat and favorite black fedora.
"Where are you going?"
"Out. Some people believe Holmes has returned and is ready to work. We must keep up appearances." He fished about in his pockets and produce Adler's letter. Upon reading it John's expression turned from confused to alarm in a matter of seconds. "Problem?"
"Irene Adler is dangerous and tricky. You need back-up…let me go with you. I could-"
Placing his hands on his shoulders Tony squeezed firmly, "Don't worry about Ms Adler; I think I can handle her. John, you need to stay here. You're the only one I trust at the moment with my suit. But if you really want to help, you'll need this," He handed him a torn piece of paper. "This is a list of things I need to fix my armor. Rumor has it Sherlock has his own 'little police' maybe they can help you." He kissed him once and headed for the door, "Oh, by the way, if you get bored after that you can always play chess with JARVIS." Grinning, he left the room leaving John eyeing up the mask apprehensively.
Arriving at The Grand a while later Tony knocked on the door that the receptionist directed him to and waited…and waited. He knocked again, a little louder this time, and pressed his ear to the wood. He jumped back when the door flew open and Adler stood in front of him, hands on hips and eyes glimmering. Her eyes landed on him and her lips curled into a crafty smile.
"You made it!" Checking her watch she pouted a tiny bit, "A little tardy, Sherlock. You know better than to keep a couple of ladies waiting."
Tony ducked his head, "I'm sorry, Miss Adler. I was-"
Adler quickly cut him off. "Well you're here now and that's all that matters. Come on in." She held the door open as he walked inside the room. The room it-self was tastefully decorated: dusty pink walls with pictures in golden frames dotted here and there. A lush carpet, that matched the cream colored furniture, lined the floor with a red circle rug in the rooms' center, and at the far end stood a queen-size bed. A lone door stood in the corner and was slightly a-jar.
"Where's your friend?" He asked.
Irene nodded to the door, "Getting ready. You know us ladies, never seen without our war-paint. Drink?" She thrust a glass of red wine into his hand and took one for her-self. She grinned at him before taking a sip. Tony eyed the glass, shrugged and gulped down a mouth-full. Irene sighed with a head shake placing her glass on the table. "Never learn, do you?"
Tony frowned at her before placing down his own glass, "I don't…" His vision blurred a little; he shook his head to clear it and tried again. He tried to focus, leaning on table for support. Dizziness quickly over-took him and he stumbled, fell sideways onto the couch and slid down, a limp rag-doll on the floor. "You…drug…"
The door in the corner opened. Adler's friend came out, and seeing Tony slumped against the couch, hurried over to sit by his side so he didn't fall over. "Dear God, woman! What have you done?" Tony's head lolled to the side, landing heavily against their arm. His eyes, glassy and dazed rolled around in their sockets trying to focus. "Sir? Can you hear me?"
Tony struggled to keep his head up. He looked over to where the voice had come from and squinted. In his confounded state he could just make out blurred features: a mixture of dark and light tones. Limply he reached up and out stroking soft skin he grinned woozily, a second later his eyes closed and he slumped forward nuzzling into a more comfortable position against their chest. Soon he was snoring loudly.
"Well, now what?" Irene grinned looking over her friends' shoulder. She turned quickly following her gaze, blinked, and turned back. "You've got to be kidding me." Adler giggled, taking one Tony's arms wrapping it over her shoulders, heaving while the other pushed. "You're one twisted lady." Together the two of them staggered across the room and got to work.
About 80 per-cent happy with this one. Took so long to get done I'm leaving it as it is. Mx.