In The Game of Love

one

"Oh my goodness," Sherlock stood from his chair and took her hand. "What a pleasure." He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "For the life of me, I don't know why it's taken him so long to introduce us properly." He smirked up at John.

"The pleasure is mine," Mary replied as John helped her into her seat.

"And this is Y/N," John introduced, "Mary's roommate."

"Y/N?" Sherlock questioned, turning to the other woman. He narrowed his eyes, studying her as he reached for her hand. "What a beautiful name." He kissed her knuckles.

There was definitely something else he was meaning behind that compliment. Y/N just couldn't tell. "Thank you," she responded, moving to sit down.

"Allow me," Sherlock said, moving around the table to behind her chair. He helped push Y/N's chair in as she sat down before sitting back down himself.

The table was round and neatly set up. Sherlock took his seat across from Y/N. John and Mary were across from each other, both next to Sherlock. Sherlock kept his eyes on Y/N, like he was trying to figure something out. She tried her best not to squirm under the gaze of his big, brown eyes.

"It really is quite a thrill to meet you, Mr. Holmes," Mary said as she place her napkin on her lap. "Y/N and I have heard so much about you." His eyes tried to give respect to Mary as she talked to him, but Y/N noticed that they kept flickering towards her. "I have a pile of detective novels at home, Wilkie Collins, Poe."

"It's true," John added.

"It can seem a little far fetched though, at times. Making these grand assumptions out of tiny details."

"That's not quite right is it?" Sherlock interrupted. "In fact, the little details are by far, the most important." He glanced at Y/N before looking away. He was honestly ever so subtle about it that Y/N wasn't surprised John and Mary hadn't noticed. "Take Watson-"

"I intend to." Mary looked at the man across from her with loving eyes.

Sherlock scoffed with a smile before continuing, "See his walking stick?" He picked up the top of it, John still gripping it tightly. "A rare African snake wood. Hiding a blade," Sherlock pulled off the top, revealing the blade, "of high tensile steel. Few were rewarded to the veterans of the Afghan war," he slipped the blade back in, "so I can assume, he's a decorated soldier. Strong, brave, born to be an adventurer. And neat, like all military men. Now, I check his pockets." He reached in and took something from John's coat. "Ah, a stamp from a boxing match. Now, I can infer that he's a bit of a gambler. I'd keep an eye on that dowry, if I were you."

"Those days are behind me," John said.

"Right, behind you. He's cost us the rent, more than once."

"Well with all due respect, Mr. Holmes, you know John very well," Mary stated. "What about a complete stranger?" Sherlock's eyes were boring into Y/N, as if he was already making deductions. "What can you tell about me?"

Sherlock's head snapped towards Mary. "You?"

"I don't think that's-" John tried.

Sherlock looked at John. "I don't know that, that's-"

"Not at dinner."

"Perhaps some other time."

"I insist," Mary said.

"You insist?"

"You remember we discussed this," John told Sherlock.

"The lady insists."

That quieted down John. Y/N watched as Sherlock moved his chair to have a better vantage point of Mary. He rested an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, staring at Mary. Y/N took a deep breath, suddenly scared. She hadn't felt like this in a long time. What if Sherlock found out the truth about her? What if Sherlock was on his side?

"You're a governess," Sherlock stated after a moment.

"Well done," Mary complimented.

"Yes, well done," John agreed, trying to stop this from going any further. "Shall we...? Waiter?"

"Your student... is a boy of eight."

"Charlie's seven, actually," Mary corrected. John eyed the conversation, pouring everyone their drinks.

"Then he's tall for his age. He flicked you with ink today."

Mary turned to John, excitedly. "Is there ink on my face?"

"There is nothing wrong with your face," John said.

"There are two drops on your ear in fact," Sherlock continued, pointing them out. "India blue's nearly impossible to wash off. Anyway, very impetus act of that boy. But you're too experienced to react rashly, which is why the lady for whom you work lent you that necklace. Pearls, diamonds flawless rubies. Hardly the gems of a governess." Mary's face was solemn, yet embarrassed. "However, the jewels you are not wearing, tell us rather more." Sherlock was now looking just past Mary. Like he was in some sort of trance.

"Holmes," John scolded.

"You were engaged. The ring is gone, but the lightness of the skin where it once sat suggests that you spent some time abroad," Mary's hand went up to rub the finger which the ring sat, "wearing it proudly that is. until you were informed of its true and rather modest worth and then you broke of the engagement and returned to, England for better prospects." He turned to John. "A doctor perhaps?"

Mary then threw her drink at his face. "Right on all counts Mr. Holmes," she said. "Apart from one... I didn't leave him. He died."

She glanced at John, looking for his approval to be excused. He gave a nod and Mary hurried off. Sherlock sighed as John looked at him with disappointment and disapproval.

"Well done, old boy," John commented before leaving the table to chase after Mary.

Sherlock's now sad eyes moved to look at Y/N. She stayed silent, breathing deeply as she met his eyes. From behind him, two waiters appeared and placed a plate of food on the table. Sherlock picked up his napkin and tucked it into his shirt before taking his utensils and cutting the meat on the plate.

"You... you already ordered?" Y/N questioned, finally speaking up.

"Yes," Sherlock responded, chewing his food. "I assumed that it wouldn't go well. Why should I miss use a reservation at such a fine place?"

"You are an incredibly strange man, Mr. Holmes." Y/N placed her napkin on the table and pushed herself up to stand.

"Leaving so soon?"

"You have hurt my friend's feelings and we don't even know each other. I have no reason to stay."

"We could, you know... we could know each other."

"I'm not sure I want to get to know you Mr. Holmes."

"Afraid I'll learn the truth about you?" Y/N inhaled sharply. "Who's to say that I already haven't?"

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."