Sherlock Holmes Oneshots

A lost shoe in the night

Words: 4,7 k
Sum up: You meet Sherlock, your partner at a masked ball. He doesn't recognise you and you play with it, or is it a way to make peace with what your heart wants.

Balls, you loved balls. But you never had the guts to go to them. Because one you knew you would somehow embarrass yourself. And two, you had no date. So no balls for Y/N L/N. you were too busy whatsoever, being Sherlock Holmes assistant wasn't something really restful. But you couldn't complain, he was a nice man. A very nice gentleman to be honest, and as the months passed you had to come to what was clearly evident, you loved him. After all he was sweet, a gentleman, funny, stubborn at times. He was so not like those stuck-up men of the royal court that tried to get a glimpse of sympathy from youbut to no avail. He was the man for you.

But never in your life would you admit that. He was too good, and you really enjoyed that partnership you shared with Sherlock. If he was to discover those feelings, he would certainly fire you because he didn't need distraction and you wouldn't be at your full potential. You couldn't lose your job; you couldn't lose him.

That was until that night. Recently you've been in touch with some ladies of the court for some recent investigations. And as a sign of sympathy, they sent you an invitation for a ball one of them hosted. As soon as you received the envelope you knew what it contained and were already making an excuse to send to the hosts. But as you read the letter, you learned that it was a free masquerade; meaning that ladies and men, all single, were bound to come masked and without a date. The perfect deal for you. The recent case has been pulling on your nerves and you needed something to relax to. So, you choose to go, perhaps would you meet another man that would get your partner out of your mind and heart.

You didn't tell Sherlock that you went to a ball that night. You just pretexted to meet family occasionally since they normally lived out of town. You lived the flat next door. You snuck out in your dress and heels with your mask in your hand. You called a cab and here the night begun. It took a 15-minute ride to arrive at the place, it was beautifully light up. You entered, fiddling with your gloved hands, putting on your mask. The main room was already filled with masked people happily chatting. You felt so out of place and resisted the urge to turn on your heels and leave. You went towards a corner and stayed there for a while. Suddenly, someone tapped on your shoulder. A tall man presented himself in front of you.

?: Sorry to bother you Mademoiselle but would you care to dance with me?

You were too surprised and out of it that you did not think before taking his hand.

You danced freely, making jokes about the people surrounding you. You sometime stepped on his foot, but he just lightly winced and kept his smile. He was a man, probably around your age, tall, blond, with a bit of a beard. He had such beautiful blue eyes, they reminded you so much about- No. not tonight, now you're with this handsome gentleman with a ravishing smile. But he doesn't have dimples like- Oh my lord, it's useless, the whole point of this dance is useless, you love Sherlock far too much to get him out of your head. After three dances, you pretexted having to go powder your nose in the lady's room to get some fresh air. You first directed to you excuse of a destination before changing path when you knew you were out of the man sight. You got to a balcony and took a deep breath in. The evening air filling your lungs.

?: Tiering isn't it?

You jumped at the sudden voice. You first thought your mysterious date found you again but when you turned around you were met with a different blue of eyes. The brunette quietly approached you, his movement like a black cat next to his pray. It reminded you of- No it could not be.

?: I see someone else found this all masquerade dull and suffocating.

There was no doubt now, that voice, that hair, that smirk. There in front of you, stood Sherlock Holmes. Even when he wore a black mask you recognised his silhouette. Did he recognise you? Oh you would never hear the end of it...