The Lazarus Machine

Chapter 32

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?"