Darkness Changes... (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 37- Am I Invisible Or Something?!

A/N- I'm a terrible human being... sorry this took ages, revision is all I can say.

This hasn't been edited yet... enjoy xx

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Darcy's POV

"Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner's masterpiece..." The director of this gallery announced and I sighed heavily, earning a glare from John.

The three of us had been tasked with returning this painting to the gallery for quite the fee. "...thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes." The man continued and the small group of people gathered at the function applauded quietly.

"Of course I did nothing." I muttered under my breath and put my hands in the pockets of my jeans. John just shook his head slightly at me and I huffed in reply.

The director held out a small wrapped box to Sherlock. "A small token of our gratitude."

Sherlock took the box and just looked at it. "Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons." He commented and I stifled a laugh.

"He means thank you." John told the director who looked a little disheartened.

Sherlock frowned over at me and asked, "Do I?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Just say it, Sherlock, so we can go." John elbowed me in the ribs and I groaned under my breath.

"Thank you." Sherlock said begrudgingly and I smiled, turning on my heel to walk towards the door.

I nearly got away, very nearly, but John grabbed my arm and pulled me back to stand with them. "You're staying put, we're mingling." He ordered and smiled as a photographer took a picture of us all. Sherlock and I were, of course, not smiling.

"Mingling? I'm sorry, I didn't sign up for mingling today." I commented sarcastically and crossed my arms, glaring at John.

Sherlock looked very unhappy at having to stay any longer than we had to and we made our way to sit on a small sofa at the side of the gallery. John was stood talking to a woman in a black dress who I couldn't even be bothered to deduce.

I leant my elbows on my knees and then put my chin in my hands. "Do you reckon we could sneak out? Nobody would miss us." I said glumly as I watched John enjoying himself.

"Apparently society frowns upon those sort of things." Sherlock shrugged and leant on the back of the sofa.

I turned my head around to frown at him. "What sort of things?"

"Leaving without saying goodbye to the host." He suggested and then added, "You should know all of this, having had etiquette training."

I merely grumbled and went back to looking at John, hoping he'd feel my harsh staring and turn around so I could gesture with my head that I wanted to go. But he didn't turn around and we were sat there for nearly half an hour.

After that period of time Sherlock and I gave up on formalities, and left the gallery without even telling John. Sherlock pocketed the cufflinks, despite having been against them, and after putting his coat on donned his blue scarf.

Let's just say that John was not best pleased when he finally got back to 221B to find Sherlock and I playing a rather anger fuelled game of Cluedo. Sherlock was still insistent that the victim did and I was still intent on arguing with him about the fact, despite the logic his idea held.

After the debacle, I say debacle it was murder, with Mr Livingstone and his disappearing body we had tried everything to find him. Or to find, at least, some sort of paper trail or data trail or something that would close the case.