The Art Of Corruption ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book III}

Chapter 9- Strangers and Spiked Drinks

Emily's POV

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John's mouth drops open as we walk- well in my case, shuffle- into the living space. 

"Wow. You look great. Both of you."

I wink, and Millie smiles, still uncomfortable with wearing such a statement piece of clothing; she's the type to watch from a distance, observing whilst being unobserved. Sherlock's got his back to us, looking in the mirror and trying to loosen the bow tie around his neck.

"Leave it, Sherlock."

"I don't see why this level of formality is-"

He breaks off when he sees us. He blinks, rapidly, genuinely taken aback. There's a small silence, and John makes a noise that sounds like a cough, but is probably a laugh. When the lack of talking becomes painful, I say-

"Right, so if our criminal actually does make an appearance, what's the plan of action?"

Sherlock doesn't reply. He just stands in front of the mirror, hands still poised at his bow tie. I clear my throat-

"Sherlock?"

He starts at the sound of his name, turning to look at me, and I repeat my question-

"What's the plan?"

"Falsesenseofsecurity."

We stare at him.

He tries again-

"False...sense of security. We-er...We make the criminal believe that he has the-" he stops, pausing to remember how to use the English language.

"Advantage?" I suggest, after another excruciating minute of silence.

"Yes. Advantage. That's what I meant."

John's 'coughing' increases, and he holds an arm up to his mouth to conceal his smile. Sherlock's brow furrows, as he tries to work out why he was unable to form a coherent sentence, and I join John in a staged coughing fit to mask my laughter. Millie elbows me in the ribs, but her mouth is doing some interesting acrobatics in it's attempt to stay straight.

Suddenly, there's the sharp rap of knuckles at the door. It opens, to reveal Irene Adler, dressed in what looks like a sheer piece of green fabric, elaborate embroidery acting as strategic concealment. She smiles at Sherlock, looking him up and down-

"I'm impressed. You do scrub up well."

Sherlock has regained enough control to wipe the look of shock off his face- his expression is currently a mask; blank, and unreadable.

"Shall we?" says Irene, holding out her arm in a deliberate gesture. 

Sherlock hesitates, glancing back at us, before nodding curtly and taking her arm. They leave the room, and we can hear Irene's laugh fade as they make their way to the lobby. Millie's stance stiffens, although she tries very hard to look nonchalant. John picks up on this too, and looks at me. We exchange a silent conversation, and then he turns to Millie, offering  her his arm-

"Coming?"

"Of course," she says, smiling, and taking it. She glances over her shoulder at me-

"Remember; keep a look out. Don't leave the main hall. Mingle."

"Will do."

We join Irene and Sherlock in the lift, and we travel down in silence, anticipating. I mentally ready myself for the night to come, going over our group instructions in my head.