Jet Black Orbs Part V
He cupped his arm around her petite waists as they meandered through the small tables offering hors d'œuvre and apéritifs.
"Tell me the room Molly. I must catch him tonight." He unfolded his red-tipped white cane awaiting his wife's lead for mapping out their "battleground".
The pink and bright red duo skillfully meandered through the entire place as his wife fed a running stream of vivid descriptions on the guests, surroundings, and structures into his ear.
A little whisper of "there a small bush which makes for a great hideout," or "this corner is a great location for picking up voices clearly without looking like eavesdropping" made Sherlock snicker at his Molly's crafty mind conjuring up a way to take in their target.
They finished the walk in the antechamber adjacent to the dining hall just before the meal was announced, so Molly and Sherlock quickly took their place at the dinner table with rest of their party without attracting attention.
The dinner discussions were animated and quite interesting to say the least. The topic started out with the typical pleasantries and weather, soon it futhered into likes and dislikes of tea, biscuits, and music genres. But of course, with Sherlock around, events rarely unfolded in the proper manner.
He soon became so engrossed in a detailed recantation of his previous case with an elephant in the room, a dwarf with a poison dart, and an invisible man** It was a bit unsettling for the other six guested seated with them; topics on cadavers were rather too much for them to stomach.
The lavish five course meal left all feeling extremely content with the rich food sitting in their stomach's slowly digesting. It was to the pleasure of the three men; Sherlock, John, and Lestrade, that dancing would follow in the next hour. That was the prime moment to capture the criminal who had been leaving mysterious taunting notes for the Yard.
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"Please ladies and gentlemen would you adjourn to the ballroom to enjoy the musical selection," the maître announced professionally.
"Splendid timing," Sherlock whispered to John who was sitting on the left, "everything is going just as planned."
The guests rose and trickled into the elegantly decorated room filled with lively dancing music provided by a world-renowned chamber ensemble. Molly saw her husband's expression turn to one of sheer delight when they heard the violin playing the solo part in the waltz.
It was a waltz he oft played himself when he was in a content state. As with most waltz, this one was presented in 3/4 time and a gentle rhythm that allowed the Holmes' to dance entire room for mapping out the plan. Sherlock deftly spun his wife in graceful slow circles so she could discreetly eye the suspect's interaction with the target.
"Sherlock, I think I found him. He matched the description you and John gave Mary and me earlier. Now what do we do?"
"We catch him my dear. Lead the way and I'll talk. Take my cues and in no time he will be led away in handcuffs." He chucked far too happy for any sane person, but then again he wasn't just anyone. Catching criminals were his forte, not the arrest- that was Lestrade's job.
Molly perched on his arm in the typical ladylike fashion easily gliding between the other dancing couples until they made it to the far side of the ballroom which led down a narrow side hallway. It probably was used by the staff for taking away and bringing out food and drink. Mary, John, and Lestrade notice their companions' hasty but nonchalant fancy footwork that took them away from the rest of the guests, so followed suit down the hall.
By the time the rest of the party had joined in the small room with the criminal, Sherlock had already chained him to a light fixture. He was shamelessly gloating for capturing the offending one and closing the case. Lestrade called in his team to handle the situation, it would be a terrible shame to waste such a fine event- especially since the company was just as fine. Thus, the spectacularly dressed party resumed the festivities with much more ease now their task was finished.
Molly took her husband back to the floor just in time for the down beat of the next dance. With grace and much skill, the duo skittered across the hardwood floor in such elaborate manners so Molly's skirt billowed at the grandiose turnouts before resuming the natural dancing holds of ballroom dancing.
Gently outlining his face, Molly softly spoke into his ear, "You promised me a reason for why you have this appearance. Tell me now please, the case is over."
"Very well, it is for two reasons. First, I wanted to be clearly visible for the target and intended criminal. It was crucial for the target to see me and draw out his enemy, that is why I wore red. Secondly, I know you favour this colour so wearing it will make you happy."
Following his lead to change directions, she did not sidetrack from the discussion, "It's lovely of you to think like that. Yes, I do like this colour on you very much, suits you well. Black hair and a bold red- quite the appearance you have tonight. Now, what about these?" She fingered his eyelids closed then rested her head on his shoulder.
After giving a quick peck to her cheek he responded solemnly, "They are contacts to change my eyes into appearing as black holes. Both literally and figuratively," her breath hitched knowing the ever-constant pain of unsaid words about his lack of sight. Though much time has past since he became legally blind, behind the stoic facade of pleasantries the blindness still affects him, "This is a masquerade. I come tonight as Erik, you are my Christine. I know that is your favourite book."***
He moved his arms to cup her small waist whilst hers joined around his neck- it was the heels that made it possible for her to reach as so, "From our interactions tonight and whilst dancing, I conclude that your dress is a corset beaded bodice with a full skirt puffed out by many under layers and a petticoat. Your shoulders are semi-bare, only a capped sleeves covers them when your arms are poised for me to spin you. I'm assume it's a small V-cut form neckline studded in small rhinestones which occasionally pricked me when we danced." Molly placed his hand around her neck so he could confirm what he had already deduced correctly.
"You are correct, Erik. I hope you found the dress pleasing as you say I'm now Christine. There now, it was more enjoyable for you to deduce it than have me describe it aloud. Please don't wear those again, I'd much rather your beautiful natural eye colour than that horrid blackness. It makes me very sad to think of that for you."
"For you Molly," he held her close as they traversed the room slowly to the rhythm of the music, "I should not feel any remorse or second thoughts if I lost my remaining sight, or simply did not have eyeballs. It is not of a visual means that pleases me, you know I am far above that level of thinking. You please me with your good words and thoughtful gestures, those are what I find most important, not of what your wear tonight or what you look like. Though I shall always remember what you looked like on our wedding day- it was, you recall, my final days of light perception."
She gazed adoringly at him in the red festive garb. There was no doubt that Sherlock did not absolutely love his wife, but it wasn't always plainly evident as most couples portray their love. The Holmes' love was a beautiful, intricate, and complex tangle of words and gestures that didn't blatantly say "I love you." There was no need of that for either one of them. A simple nod from her husband or a soft "Yes, of course" from his wife was had more meaning than the most drawn-out love poem or speech.
A-N: Thank you for reading! Sincere apologies for the long delay! This plot now being tied into the current chapters of "Watching Over Each Other"- updated recently.
***This short story was inspired by the wonderful book "Le Fantôme d'Opéra" (Phantom of the Opera) written by Gaston Leroux and the Lloyd-Weber film adaptation with G. Butler/E. Rossum.
The film adaptation dresses Erik in a rich red coloured suit with a grey-white masque covering the upper portion of the face, leaving only two black round holes where his eye would be located. At the masquerade in the novel, he is known as "Red Death". Erik's visage is malformed and scarred from birth, thus lacking a defined nose and ear shapes. His eyeballs are sunken deep into the head, so the only visible part of his eyes are the two black eye sockets. Despite their poor formation, he has excellent vision.