Jet Black Orbs Part III
Meanwhile several streets away a less-than-calm situation was taking place...well, firstly because grown boys were involved and that rarely goes as planned...and the second was...
"What do you mean you don't know where it is!? How could you not know! I left them here for a reason, so Molly won't know what I'm going to wear. I never thought you'd actually lose my shoes!" Sherlock screeched at his companions. The other two were frantically rummaging around John's bedroom trying to find the pacing tiger's pair of dress shoes.
His dress shoes. Of all things he's obsessed over, shoes... Those solid black, custom-made Oxfords polished so much the sun's beams bounced off them.
"Now, Sherlock, just have a seat," Lestrade took the barefoot fuming consulting detective to a chair, then started turning over everything in the room, "We'll get this sorted out in a jiffy. Must be a little misunderstanding and got misplaced. Any success there John?" He called out to the man with his head buried deep in the closet haphazardly throwing random articles of clothing over his shoulder.
"No."
By accident one flew straight into Sherlock's face, "John," he warned in a menacing voice, "What is the meaning of assaulting me with your," he paused and fingered the fabric, "with your jumper. In particular, the jumper I experimented on multiple times to test the corrosiveness of different chemical strengths on fibres."
"Ah yes, here is one of the holes," he smelt the fabric, "still reeks of the acids, I'm surprised you kept it. You know it's neither typical nor socially acceptable for a man of your age to wear ragged, torn, unkempt clothes."
John couldn't help but hurl another one of his poor experimented on jumpers at the annoying one's head.
"Don't roll your eyes at me John, I know your habits far too well to know that is exactly what you've just done and are doing now," he mocked John's facial expressions with much exaggeration, "Must we have another discussion on social etiquette? First, it was tardiness, and now it's about dress and grooming. What is the world coming to!?" Sherlock exclaimed with disdain, "Your lack of proper interactions with others is appalling. Really! Another one?"
He held up another jumper in equally poor condition as the first one, then flung one at John and one in Lestrade's direction.
"Well now you've done it Sherlock," Lestrade commented with a wicked grin and wadded the jumper ready to throw when John's strong arm pelted with another article of clothing. Now armed with a dress shirt and jumper, Lestrade chucked one at each of them before hastily retreating behind the desk.
With three grown boys and an arsenal of throwable objects, the room then became dangerous war zone. In only a matter of minuets, John's usually neat and military-like ordered bedroom turned into the after effects of a tornado's path.
-0-
"Surrender! I surrender!" John called out whilst trying to fight off the other two grown boys who were a tangle of limbs on top of him. "Let me go! Please guys!" He struggled again, but that was a mistake. Lestrade didn't expect John's arm to wrench free from his death-grip, so the force of the release threw the elder man off balance and his bony shoulder punched into Sherlock's side.
"That hurts!" he cried indignantly, "Might I take this moment to state, I am very glad we are at this place instead of my flat," Sherlock shifted so Lestrade rolled off his side with a muffled thud, "I shudder to think of Mrs. Hudson or our wives to walk in on us in this very unflattering moment."
"Really Sherlock! You're one to talk! Only NOW that thought crossed your mind! Bit late if you ask me," the silver-haired one shot back and sat on his heels snickering at the still tangle-limbed duo whilst massaging his tender shoulder.
"You...You're insufferable! Come on, we should get ready for the case tonight." He hauled his friend to feet, which were still bare at this point. "Well look here! You'll never guess what I found under this mess that you've made."
"I MADE?! It was YOU who threw it at me and started it," he shot back defensively, "You finally found my shoes that I gave to you specifically to watch over for safekeeping. I'm right, aren't I. " he finished with a deadpanned expression.
"Why yes of course you brilliant oaf! Now here, get dressed. Don't want to be late tonight!" John unceremoniously shoved the clothes and shoes in his friend's arms, then directed him to the bathroom. "Hurry up!"
A-N: Thank you for your patience! Knowing that you still read despite long breaks in between chapters makes me very happy.
Researching the different types of formal wear for writing this section was quite enjoyable! I'm editing the next chapter to fit the proper decorum for a Masquerade/ evening ball.