I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 36 : Baron Samedi and Mr Calaveras

Mycroft adjusted his skull mask, last touch of his Baron Samedi disguise, rectified the buttons of his tail jacket and grabbed his cane before exiting the car and offering his arm to his husband. The detective was arboring a complete calaveras face make up assorted to his top hat, blackwaist band and trousers, red bowtie and white shirt, looking, in the eyes of his partner, damn frighting and awfully sexy.
The auburn leaded the other man to the door of what seemed to the yarder like an anonymous building and knocked 3 times on the door. A few seconds later, a bouncer appeared in front of them and the elder Holmes showed him what looked like a red and black visit card. At the sight of the piece of paper, the man stepped aside, letting the two visitors inside with a little nod.
"What is this exactly Myc' ?" wondered the inspector to whom the auburn hadn't said the entire truth about tonight's destination, limiting his enlightenment to the strict minimum, saying that he was taking him out somewhere where disguises were compulsory.
"Welcome to the New Year party of the Lazarus Club." explained the official in mid-voice. "One of the innermost club in London. A place where we always can meet some ...interesting people ...".
The room where they were now standing was upholstered of red and black silk and velvet hanging, enlighten only by candles and dim lights, and dark wood tables and heavy velvet lined armchairs were displayed in every corner. Despite the already important crowd settled around the tables, the sound level was quite low, covered solely by the sound of the jazz music provided by the band on the stage, giving the room an atmosphere of intimacy and secrecy nearly mystic that was probably explaining the attraction Mycroft could have for the place.
The latter proceeded to an unoccupied table in the opposite corner of the room. They sat down and the two people wearing Venetian masks at the table beside them bowed silently to salute. The auburn replied with the same little bow, quickly imitated by his boyfriend who supposed it was a kind ofspecial salute that had to be done when you were to be admit I this kind of place.
"What does all this mean ?" the Greg whispered to his partner, not really understanding what was happening.
"Wait and see ..." chuckled Mycroft before catching the half-annoyed, half-furious look the DI was glancing him. "You could probably find here some of the most powerful or most secretive people in the world. People you won't see partying anywhere else then here without it causing an outrage."
"People of your keen." remarked the detective with a smirk.
"Likely enough, yes. Masks offer anonymity ... The club provides ... the party." replied his husband. It was impossible to read his expression hidden behind his mask but the yarder would have bet without taking that much risk that the official was at the moment observing all the other guess, trying to deduce who was hidden behind the masks, sure enough that it could one day come to a use.
The inspector was to answer when a waiter, him too hidden behind a mask, served them a glass of champagne before disappearing in silence. "You see Gregory, no questions, no wonder or unwarranted look and judgement. Just good food and good music." resumed the auburn.
"And the usual level of secrecy you can't live without." laughed gently the policeman.
Mycroft grabbed his lover's hand and started toying with his fingers. "Who do not dream of secret meeting between nicely dressed gentlemen on the rhythm of a jazz orchestra ?"
"You have indeed a very romantic side or is that just the James Bond part of you speaking ?" smiled the detective.
"Can't it be both ?" retorted the official, his voice soft.
"I suppose I could see the appeal in both ..." answered Greg with a wink before drinking a gulp of his champagne.

As the evening was going on, the sound level of the room started rising a little and people started to swarmed on the dancefloor, moving on the rhythm of the joyful sound of the 30's and 40's jazz hits that the orchestra was playing. The two men had just finished the main course when Mycroft raised to his feet and grabbed his partner by the arm dragging him in the middle of the other couples dancing. Holding both his partner's hands, the official started moving his feet and balancing himself from one side to the other on the music, waiting for the detective to imitate him before leading him around the room, making him turn on himself and efflorescing the yarder's lips at time without ever kissing him.
After a few minutes of unrestrained rhythm, the band slowed down to a shady and sensual blues improvisation. The auburn pulled his lover closer, resting a hand on his waist and undulating his body, turning on himself slowly before making the DI swivel around a few times and bringing him back close to his body. Mycroft flipped his partner one last time on the last note of the music, throwing him a clearly sultry look before going back to his table, his hand still on the other man waist.
As soon as they were back on their seat, a waiter appeared and poured them a new glass of champagne. They remained silent for a couple of minutes, catching up their breath and drinking their glasses, looking at each other right in the eyes before Greg cracked quietness. "I didn't knew you could dance that well." he remarked, appreciative.
"I'm full of resources. That always tend to surprise you apparently." chuckled the official, gesturing toward the waiter to fill up their glasses once more.
"After two and a half years I had the pretensiousness of knowing everything of you ..." smiled the detective, not upset and rather pleased in fact of still having things to discover about the man he loved. "Where did you learned this ?"
"Dancing lessons are compulsory for the people of my ... milieu. Ballroom dancing is as important as maths could be, for those who are caring greatly about the etiquette. Alongside music, drawing, good manners and French, it's your golden tickets to some of the most powerful men and women of this country. Well it was, fifty years ago, but you've already understood that my mother and father are quite ...traditionalist would be a light word." enlightened him the elder Holmes, adjusting his ruby cufflinks.
"It doesn't seemed to bother you that much when we were on the dancefloor." the inspector pointed out, amused.
"Oh no, I quite enjoy dancing in fact. Not that I have much occasion of doing so sadly ... I don't criticize the fact they've made me learn it, I'm criticizing the why, that's were the subtlety lay, you see ?" retorted the official, placing elegantly his hands on the left knee of his crossed legs.
"I can't help picturing you in tights and doublet ..." giggled the yarder, a finger idly rested against his lips.
"You'd die to see this, wouldn't you Gregory ?" laughed genuinely his husband, shaking slightly his head.
"Why would I die when I can simply ask your brother ? He surely must have a picture of you in that outfit somewhere." retorted the detective.
"You wouldn't do that !"exclaimed the auburn, faking to be shocked. "The fact is, I'm scared he actually could have one or two folded inside his wallet's pocket ..."
Both of them laughed at this eventuality of Sherlock secretly keeping a picture of a young Mycroft in tights constantly in his pocket. "Not that I should be that concerned of any kind of black mail from him as I've got weapons to strike back." resumed the elder Holmes after putting himself together again.
"Really?" wondered his partner, still chuckling.
" He was absolutely delightful as Titiana, queen of the fairies ... The world-famous consulting detective in a light pink dress with ruffles, his magnificent black curls carefully styled in a topknot and adorned with pearls and jewels . He was really one of a kind ..." explained the official, a look of nostalgia and true enjoyment in his eyes.
Greg was now half laid down on the table, incapable of controlling the frantic laugher that had taken possession of him. It took him half a dozen of minutes before being able to talk again, having a hiccup of laughing for so long. "But why was he playing Titiana ?"
"That's the curse of all-boy boarding school, it's utterly difficult to produce a play without involving some cross-dressing and as Sherlock as always been a rathe ... delicate kid, he usually ended up in dresses and wigs." replied Mycroft, smirking under his mask.
"And you ?" wondered the DI, curious.
"Oh... I was Horatio in Hamlet." answered the auburn quickly, looking away.
"Not only, isn't it ?" pushed him the yarder.
"Ok, I've been Lady Bracknell in Oscar Wilde's play." admitted his partner, moving elegantly his hand in the hair in a'whatever-it-was-years-ago' move.
Greg seized that hand and placed a soft and long kiss on it, restraining himself of laughing. "I'm sure you've rocked it darling." he whispered.

They left the club at half past three after having a last dance, their bodies close one to another, and climbed in the car waiting for them in front of the door. At the second the doors had been closed and the two men were shattered behind the tinted glass, Gregory snatched his lover's mask off and pressed his lips voluptuously against Mycroft's. The official hooked one of his hand around the back of the detective's neck to prevent him of breaking the kiss, the other one caressing the inspector's back through his clothes.
The journeyback home took less than ten minutes during which the two men had kept snogging, getting rid of their top hats and jackets. The car stopped in the alley before the entrance of the Holmes Mansion and the two lovers rushed inside the house, forgetting their belongings in the car, not caring of anything else than the other's body.
Forsaking all kind of decency, the auburn shoved his husband against the corridor wall, welding his lips against the DI's neck, his hands on the man's butt, supporting him. Greg finished untying his bowtie and took off his shirt, allowing his boyfriend lips to explore his torso, making him moan loudly when the auburn started tickling his nipples. Whiling to take off his own shirt, the official put the yarder down on the floor, unbuttoning quickly his clothes while following the other man in the living room. Pushing the inspector on a couch, he opened the policeman fly, pulling the black slim trousers off before sitting on his lover's lap and starting to kiss him arduously.
Gregory was running his hands against the elder Holmes chest, the presence of the warm body of his partner on his thighs and the wine and champagne he had drank all the evening, making his excitation reach an intolerable level. Not being able to wait longer, he pulled the official's trousers and underwear away and pushed himself against Mycroft's ass with fire. The auburn groaned out of pleasure, moving quickly his hips, his hands running through the grey hair, both men lips bursting in a lusty kiss.
The detective moved in top, laying his husband down on the leather couch, taking control of their embrace. Hooking his finger nails into hispartner's back, the official strained, reaching his climax in a loud scream a few seconds before Greg reached his own and slumped on the tall man body. They stayed entwined on the couch, to lazy and exhausted to move to their bedroom and felt asleep, naked, hugging each other.