The Saturday morning had risen with a beautiful blue sky. The sun, though not very warm, shone in the clean sky. It was a perfect morning for an engagement party.
John came out of his room and down the stairs, trying to fix the knot on his tie. He didn't use ties very often and he realised now that aptness is something you lose when you don't practise even in the smallest things. Sherlock was already in the living room sat on his chair, fully dressed, cleaning the bow of his violin with meticulous and slow strokes. He raised his eyes when he saw John.
"Good morning." John said.
"'Morning." Sherlock answered, without stopping what he was doing. He was wearing a suit and a white shirt, and he seemed like his normal self.
John picked up the newspaper and as he turned around to sit he looked at himself in the mirror above the fireplace. His lip, even if not as much as the day before, was still swollen. The scratches on his face did not look so pronounced, what was good. He had changed the bandage on his forehead after shaving that morning and that was the best he could do. He was a bit of a mess, anyway, but there was nothing he could do about it. Sherlock had told him the night before the reason for the chase and even though it seemed like a very intricate story he had no reason not to believe it. Both he and Sherlock had been in some strange cases. He looked at his wrist watch as he sat.
"Shouldn't we be going? I know we don't really have a time to be there, but still…"
"We're waiting for Dylan."
"Waiting for her? Why, where did she go?"
"She left early. Said she was supposed to help Molly with her hair and make-up. Also said she would be home on time."
Right as he finished saying this, the door downstairs opened and closed again and they heard hurried footsteps up the stairs. Dylan didn't even bother come to their apartment. She just shouted as she went to her own.
"I'll be right back! I just need to get dressed!" And she was off.
John looked at Sherlock.
"She's not ready yet. She is going to take ages."
But, to John's disbelief, fifteen minutes later they heard the sound of steps coming up the stairs again and Dylan entered the room. She had her long, dark hair braided to the side and just a tiny bit of make-up that brightened her feature. She was wearing a black knee-length dress and some flat sandals. Simple, but charming.
"Okay, I am ready." She announced, looking at them. "Shall we go?"
Sherlock put the violin on its stand and got up. He gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"You look very beautiful today." He said. She looked at him and smiled and he smirked, putting the coat of the suit on. John got up as well.
"Yes, you look very nice today. The dress suits you."
"You look very nice yourself. Never saw you wearing a tie before. Anthea will be impressed. If she can get over the swollen lip and all the scratches…"
John nodded, a bit embarrassed.
"Yes, well… we'll see."
They smiled at each other and followed Sherlock out of the apartment. A taxi stopped outside 221B and they got in. They still had to ride to where the party would take place. It was a nice view outside the window and soon they were travelling through green and open fields. The taxi pulled over next to the biggest house John had ever seen. A white, imposing mansion rose before them, circled by a very well treated garden. The gate was open, ready to welcome the guests. The garden, light poles and all trees that surrounded the way until the entrance of the house were decorated with lights, that were still turned off, and beautiful white roses.
They got out of the taxi and paid the taxi driver who went away, driving slowly. They walked in through the gates and to the side of the house, following a path of flowers. A doorman was ready to welcome them and take their coasts. He then told them they could enjoy the party. They thanked and looked around. On the back of the house was the biggest garden. Everywhere were tables set with food and drinks and fancy-dressed waiters offering drinks and picking up empty glasses and appetizers' trays. On the far end of the garden there was a bandstand made of wood, probably where the announcement would be made. There was a band as well, playing romantic songs and having fun. Many guests had already arrived and despite the size of the garden, it seemed like a big part of London was there.
"This is quite a big crowd for an engagement party." John noted.
"Yes. My brother sure has a thing for greatness." Sherlock said, looking around. "I will make some acquaintances on my own." He announced.
Dylan pulled him by his shirt.
"Remember: this is our niece's engagement party. Not a place for your own delight. Be nice to people."
"Am I ever not nice to people?" He asked, sarcastic. But nodded in agreement and Dylan let him go. She and John saw him blend with the crowd, observing.
A woman's voice called.
"Dylan, is that you?"
She and John turned around. A woman wearing more gold than what was reasonable to look actually beautiful was coming in their direction. She hugged Dylan.
"Oh my god, I haven't seen you in so long! You look the same. And you look so nice today!"
"I am quite older than the last time we saw four years ago, Marge."
"Oh, non-sense. You look great! Mycroft told me you have a job at the university! He is so proud of you!"
"Oh, is he?" she asked, surprised. "What a pity he never says that to me himself."
"Oh, no hard feelings. You know how your brother can be sometimes."
"And how can he be?"
Mycroft approached them. He was wearing an expensive suit, but looked just like his own everyday self.
"Oh, just afraid to show his emotions." Marge said, holding his arm and patting it in a warm way.
"Ah, emotions, the stranglers of reasoning." He smiled at Dylan and at John. "You look very nice today, Dylan. You too Dr. Watson, very formal. Were you ran over by a car?" And without waiting for an answer he looked around. "And where is our lovely brother?"
"He went for a walk." Dylan informed.
"Hum, I see. I better go and see if I find him before he decides to ruin my daughter's party. You know how that would make him happy." Mycroft said. And, as Sherlock had done before, also he came close to Dylan and gave her a kiss on the forehead, filled with affection. He looked at her with pride and still holding his wife's arm he turned around, trying to find Sherlock among the crowd.
"Now, that was strange." Dylan said, looking at them going away.
"What?"
"Affection." She said.
"Oh, come on." John refuted. "Sherlock is not exactly the affectionate type and he hugs you all the time."
"Yes, but that's Sherlock. That has always been Sherlock to me. Not Mycroft." She shrugged. "Maybe he is getting soft with age."
Both she and John laughed. Mycroft and being soft in the same sentence was not a very common thing.
"Aunt Dylan?"
Camille came closer to them, smiling.
"Wow, you look so nice today! I love you shoes. No heels?"
"Absolutely not!" Dylan smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She then held Camille's hand and took a look at the engagement ring. "Congratulations. It's beautiful. And you look… overjoyed. I like it."
"Thank you. I am really happy. I did not expect it at all but now this is all I want. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yes, I do." Dylan answered. She did not, really, but that was not what Camille was expecting her to say.
"And who is this? Is he your…"
"No." Dylan said straight away. "He's Sherlock's."
"Sherlock's? Boyfriend?"
"No, I am not his boyfriend." John looked at Dylan, who had a roguish smile on her face. "I am not actually gay, even. I am John Watson. I and Sherlock, we share a flat, that's all."
"Oh, yes, I've heard a lot about you! My father and all those cases on the newspaper. So, you're the famous Dr. John Watson. It's very nice to finally meet you. I hope you enjoy the party."
Someone called Camille's name as she was shaking hands with John.
"Sorry, I really need to circle around and compliment people. There's a lot to compliment and I don't know more than half of them."
And smiling again she left, without looking back.
"Why did you say I was Sherlock's?" John asked Dylan who tried to supress a laugh.
"Well, you kind of are. Sherlock's friend and flat mate. Adventurous companion." And she furrowed her eyebrows. "I must look like crap every day. Everybody tells me how lovely I look today."
"Well, it's a special day, people want to be nice." John said, very simply.
"People want to be nice… Are you saying then that I look like crap today as well?" Dylan inquired, with a false look of shock on her face.
Before John could answer Sherlock arrived, walking calmly, his hands behind his back.
"There's 347 people in this party and I still had to introduce someone to Mycroft. I have figured out quite a few intriguing and interesting things, though." He smiled, pleased.
"And I feel a little underdress too. It's like people are dressed to receive a BAFTA or something." Dylan said, accepting a glass of juice a passing waiter offered her. She took a sip and made a strange face.
"Not good?" Sherlock asked.
"No sugar." She drank the rest of the juice all at once. Might as well get it over with at once.
Sherlock had frozen in place. He was looking at something in the distance, right behind Dylan. She turned around. Inspector Lestrade and Molly had just walked in to the garden and were holding hands. Molly saw them as soon as she looked around and pointed that out to the inspector. He smiled and the both of them walked in their direction. Sherlock was starting to pace behind but Dylan put herself between him and John and held his arm, waving back at Molly.
"You stay exactly where you are." She warned Sherlock.
"Hello!" Molly said, with a very happy smiled. She looked at Sherlock and lowered her eyes before looking at Dylan. "You look so nice!"
"Oh, here we go." Dylan said and grabbed a piece of Molly's hair between her fingers. "I like your hair and make-up. I wonder who took care of that."
Molly laughed.
"Oh, was it you?" inspector Lestrade asked. Dylan nodded, smiling. "Well, what can you not do? It looks perfect. I mean, she looks always perfect, but today even more." And he gazed at Molly with an infatuated smile in his face. Molly blushed slightly, embarrassed.
"Well, I am thirsty and that juice I had sure was not good. Molly, will you come with me and get some drinks?" Dylan inquired, taking Molly's hand for a tiny second. Molly nodded. "Do you guys want anything?"
John and inspector Lestrade ordered their drinks but Sherlock didn't want anything. The girls left then, giggling and chatting.
"So, you and Molly?" John asked Lestrade.
"Yes, it seems like it. She's a wonderful, wonderful person. Sweetest one I've ever know."
"I like to see you happy at last. And Molly too, she does deserve to be happy."
"Yes, she does." Lestrade agreed. " I just hope I am up to what she deserves, I will certainly do my best." He said. "What happened to your face?" He asked John.
"Oh, this. Yes, I was run over by a taxi. I crossed the road without looking."
"You have to be more careful. Streets these days are not safe at all." Lestrade said.
They heard the girls laughing and saw they were having trouble carrying the drinks alone, passing glasses from hand to hand.
"I better go help them. I still have to talk to Mycroft and I would like to see the bride to be. I'll see you around. Hope that face gets better." He said to John, mocking him.
John nodded and Lestrade took a last look at Sherlock and went away to meet the girls, reaching out to get his own drink. He and Molly talked with Dylan for a bit, before saying goodbye to her.
"You're not saying anything." John pointed out at Sherlock.
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Molly and Lestrade."
"I am very happy for them." Sherlock said, indifferent.
Dylan approached them and passed John his drink.
"Should we circle around as well?" They started to pace side by side. "I am really happy for Molly. She deserves to have someone who loves her. And Lestrade seems to like her very much."
She looked at Sherlock, who ignored her. John was looking at someone in the distance.
"Ah, will you excuse me? I see Anthea over there. May I borrow this?"
And without even waiting for a response from any of them he took Dylan's untouched drink from her hand and headed in althea's direction.
"Your friend is very smooth." Dylan said.
Sherlock smirked, looking at her. She asked.
"May I ask you something? And you promise you will be honest with me?"
Sherlock nodded.
"Of course." He said.
"Do you like Molly?"
Before Sherlock could answer there was a loud scream coming from the house that they heard through an open door. Sherlock hurried in the direction of the noise and Dylan followed him, a worried look on her face.
They entered the house, passing through many people who were now gathering, alarmed by the scream. They followed the crowd to a small room right next to the kitchen. They passed through the people, pushing here and there. A waitress, fully dressed in her apron had frozen against the wall, a hand covering her mouth. She was the one who had screamed. When Sherlock looked at the floor he saw at what. A young, suited man was lying on the floor, his eyes wide open and a knife thrust to his chest.