The Autobiography of Mycroft Holmes

Chapter 22: My Antisocial Friends

The night of the event was like any other at the Diogenes Club. Except for the fact that the Club officially closed five hours early to prepare for the event. They kicked everyone out, telling us that we should go home and get ready. No matter; I could get the tux from Lestrade's wedding washed, ironed, and tailored and it would be fine for the social a few hours later.

I had not heard from Lestrade all week. I left messages on her office answering machine, texted her repeatedly, all to no avail. I knew I'd probably have to go it alone, but I still hoped Lestrade would show up at some point.

I elected to bring Sherlock and Chris to the event with me. I figured that since Tom was bringing his girlfriend for appearances, I'd bring my significant other as well. The one catch: I didn't tell Sherlock I was dating Chris. I'd said he was my Personal Assistant from the Diogenes.

Knowing Sherlock, she would not have taken that news in a very mature manner. She sometimes had a very childish attitude towards new developments, and I did not want to evoke that on the night of the Social. So I didn't risk it.

The ride over to the Diogenes Club in the cab was one of the most interesting moments of my life: Sherlock talking to Chris as if he was just another Diogenes member. He did surprisingly well for a person who knew virtually nothing about the Club, save what I told him.

When we finally got to the Club, I made my entrance before my two guests. We all walked into a hall full of Diogenes Club members. Talking.

It was odd, to say in the least. I was not used to hearing these people say actual words out loud, so I was very much in awe at their surprisingly good social abilities. But, under these facades, I knew they were all squirming. Or at least I was.

I stood in the hall, my mouth half-dropped open. I was definitely ready to return to 221B, and I had not even been in the party for a minute and a half. But if it meant keeping one of the only two remaining Seniors alive for the night, it was worth one horrific and torturous night of talking to other humans.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Tom said, walking up to us. The one moment I thought wouldn't happen was actually happening.

"Hello, my dear friend," I said, walking over to Tom and putting my arm around his shoulder. "Sherlock, Chris," I said, addressing my guests, "I must take my leave of you. I have some issues I must address."

I entered the surveillance closet Tom and I had set up prior to the event and turned on the cameras.

Villarreal was already in my sights, moving toward Sherlock. Sherlock struck up a conversation with him.
As this began to take effect, I led Tom out of the room again. He looked nervous to be doing this; I didn't blame him. I was nervous as well in this situation. We would possibly come in direct conflict with a murderer's intentions later that night.

"I'd like to show you some of the things I'm worried about. You know we increased our security measures tonight, correct? See that camera over the back window of the sanctorium?" I asked Tom.

"Yes. You did not put that there?"

"He's a smart killer, whoever it is. Same brand and model as my cameras, but that's not mine. I did not put that there, and other than me, only you could have done so. And you clearly did not. I think he's here now."

"As do I. Where is Villarreal?"

"With Sherlock. He's perfectly all right."

"Fine, then. I'm going to go see my girlfriend at some point."

"Well, go see her now! Nothing's really going on."

"I don't want to leave you in a dark closet all alone, if you know what I mean. What if the killer comes?"