The number of guests more than tripled as the sun faded from the sky. All the dividers in the ballroom had been opened until it nearly spanned the length of the manor's west wing. Between the roaring fireplaces and the hundreds of candles reflected in dozens of mirrors, the place was ablaze with light and heat. The crush of people, as well, kept the room warm despite the balcony doors being opened to the gardens.
Sherlock and John were separated for some time after dinner, until Sherlock found him speaking with an ambassador of some sort in their only common language: quite rusty Latin. Sherlock tucked John's free hand around his elbow and smiled graciously at the man. John's fingers tightened under Sherlock's, but other than that, he showed no outward expression of surprise.
Interesting, Sherlock thought, he has his shining, smiling party mask as well.
Sherlock moved John to one guest after another, making introductions and showing his most polite face. It was the in-between that had John's face red with laughter.
"You shouldn't be telling me that, even if you know it, Sherlock," John huffed, wiping a tear from his eye. The Italian ambassador apparently favored a red satin corset and padded his breeches as well as his stockings to appear much more robust and well-formed than he was.
Sherlock merely winked and wheeled John around to meet Lady Ravensford, a young woman newly married to an older Lord, and even more newly debauched by… Sherlock glanced around… the youngest of her husband's sons, newly in London to attend university.
"My, you are the worst gossip," John scolded, with an incongruous grin on his face once the young lady had departed. "How do you know it was not someone else? There are a lot of people here; perhaps more than one couple has snuck off for a tryst in a quiet corner."
"No doubt that is true, John, but she is young and newly wed. She has hardly had the time to make a wide acquaintance in this circle. She would be familiar with her new family. Not to mention, they returned to the ballroom from different doors, but too close to the same time for coincidence. They are both too silly and inexperienced to hide it."
Sherlock's deductions warmed John's ear and tickled his neck just beneath his collar. The taller man leaned closely to John so he could speak softly. Sherlock understood discretion; he simply chose not to employ it much of the time. But since his close confidence and toeing the line of propriety with wild accusations was amusing John, he found it useful not to blatantly insult everyone in the room like he might otherwise do.
And John, he was even more golden when he laughed with Sherlock. His eyes alighted on him and lingered. His hand stayed firmly wrapped around Sherlock's elbow and Sherlock knew his arm would feel cold when John finally pulled away. John was having a good time and Sherlock found he was delighted to keep entertaining the man. How unusual.
These thoughts were interrupted by yet another politician, one Lord Crossham, whom Sherlock had met more professionally. Sherlock hardly had to open his mouth for introductions before the good-natured man reached out his hand.
"Your husband, Holmes here, tracked down a diamond set that had belonged to my grandmother," the man said as he shook John's hand vigorously. "Even Bow Street turned up their nose at it, but within two weeks, this one walked to a completely random tree in Hyde Park, reached into a knothole, and pulled out thousands of pounds worth of jewels!"
"It wasn't random, obviously," Sherlock stated, rolling his eyes. John grinned at him.
"So how did you figure out where they were stashed?"
"Followed the thief when he hid the next thing he stole, a pair of pearl drop earrings from Lady Abbotsford, I believe."
"And your discovery of the thief?"
"Elementary. As the jewels weren't immediately dismantled and pawned – none of my contacts had come across anything of the sort – the criminal must have been taking things for fun, from houses or people in his acquaintance. It was merely tracing rumors of other thefts, comparing their invitation lists and investigating the suspects. Honestly, I don't know why Bow Street hadn't gotten anywhere with it."
"Likely no runner wanted to be in a position to accuse gentry of theft," John said, ever the voice of reason.
"If they'd even the mind to consider the option," Sherlock added smugly.
"Either way, it didn't earn them any favors," Lord Crossham concluded. "However, it enhanced my opinion of Holmes here, greatly."
John and Sherlock had barely excused themselves when they turned right into a breath-takingly lovely woman resplendent in emerald, both in gown and in jewel. Her dark hair was twisted up quite simply, despite the Grecian curls that seemed to be in fashion. This woman did not need to obey fashion to be beautiful.
"My dear Mr. Holmes! Would you care to dance?" Her voice was warm and honey-toned.
"You know very well that I do not dance," Sherlock returned stiffly, cupping his free hand over John's fingers where they curled around his elbow. He might have moved himself and John away entirely if giving this woman the cut direct wouldn't place him in a more awkward position, both with his brother and with having to explain to John why.
"Oh, but now that you are married, surely you will be enticed into a turn on the floor now and then by your handsome husband?" Her eyes glinted with repressed laughter.
John lifted his cane. "He has been forgiven from such tedious activities, my lady."
"Captain Watson, my most heartfelt congratulations on your acquisition." She offered one black satin-gloved hand to John. "And since Mr. Holmes will never introduce us properly, allow me to do so. Lady Adler." She beamed, inordinately pleased when John bent and brushed his lips to the back of her hand.
"I was astonished at the news that Mr. Holmes was to marry. I can certainly see why he would be convinced." Her melodious voice was altered only slightly by the sly smile on her face. "Such nice manners on your inamorato, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock glared at her and changed the subject. "So, you finally managed to convince the Prince Regent to bestow a title on you, Irene."
She reacted by giving no reaction other than a simple smile.
"Yes, Prinny has been quite generous. He's even hinted that the title could become hereditary if I produced a son."
"Will you? Are you?" Sherlock realized he was far too intent on the answer and schooled his features with a touch more disinterest.
"Really, do I look like one who would do such a thing only to benefit ungrateful future generations?" She ran the edge of her fan up Sherlock's arm, stepping closer and smiling up at him. Sherlock felt John's grip on his other arm tighten.
"Hardly, Irene." Sherlock quite pointedly shifted away.
"You know me so very, very well." She cocked her head, examining the two of them together. "I do hope we will run into each other again very soon. I imagine Prinny is quite bereft without me."
With a flicker of her eyes over the pair of them, she swanned away and disappeared into the crowd.
"Goodness, Sherlock, how do you know her?"
"We used to frequent some of the same house parties. She was not always as elevated as she imagines herself to be now."
"House parties?" Sherlock at a house party? In the dull country? That would mean keeping company and polite conversation and no running off to investigate crimes and examine bodies in the morgue. John couldn't imagine it.
"We had some mutual acquaintances when I attended lectures at the university."
"If I didn't know better, Sherlock, I would say the two of you had been involved." That came out before John thought better. He bit his lips together and looked away before he flushed.
"Jealousy is one of her many tools, John," Sherlock replied with a cool edge. "She is a cat, invested only in the hunt and toying with her food before she devours it. She only plays her game with me because she can't believe how fruitless the endeavor is."
"I apologize, Sherlock."
"Whatever for? Come now, Mycroft expects me to introduce you to more of his vapid cronies. We should get that over with."