Sherlock was quite correct that Lord Sherrinford made them both change before joining the festivities. John wondered if this fastidiousness wasn't less related to the faint smell of the lower parts of the city clinging to them and more that he wanted to separate the new couple and have harsh words with his brother in private.
Sherlock, however, knew this to be entirely true.
"Sherlock, I do suggest you at least attempt to play the part of loving husband." Mycroft stood stiffly by the door as his personal valet attended to Sherlock's wardrobe. He'd been resigned to Sherlock's attendance at the morgue even on his wedding day, but he wasn't about to tolerate a minute more of his brother's eccentricities.
"I despise playing roles for you, Mycroft. You know I don't care what people think. Especially these people." Sherlock craned his neck as the valet tied the cravat around his high collar, pale features twisted in annoyance.
"I won't deny that it would benefit me for my brother to appear happily settled. But it may also benefit you to be seen by certain persons as utterly off the market, so to speak."
Sherlock huffed.
"As if that truly mattered in this crowd." Sherlock batted away the valet's professional hands and loosened the neckcloth an inch, retying the knots himself. It didn't look quite as proper, but Mycroft said nothing, knowing it was a true blessing that Sherlock was doing anything he asked at all.
"If the Regent attends, I cannot bar her entrance to the house."
They both fell silent, appraising each other. Mycroft, Lord Sherrinford, could not snub the mistress of the acting king, and Sherlock avoided The Woman as avidly as he avoided speaking her name.
"She will behave quite properly in company," Sherlock soon proclaimed. "And I will have John by my side."
"I think you underestimate the harm she can do even while 'behaving properly,' as you say."
"There is little else to be done, brother, but suffer through." Mycroft thought he'd never seen his brother speak so like Mycroft himself.
Sherlock strode past and into the hallway, tousling his curls a bit with a white-gloved hand. He unerringly entered John's dressing room, where his husband leaned on his cane while staring in the mirror.
"Are you ready, John?"
YOU ARE READING
The Lazarus Machine
FanfictionSir Harold Watson requires his younger brother John to marry for money. The wealthy husband-to-be? None other than Sherlock Holmes. Before the wedding can occur, Sherlock gets swept up in an investigation of random found body parts and strange lette...
