The Masks That We Wear

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Myles groaned as he opened his eyes.

He expected to find himself in the room he shared with the guys, but, instead, he was staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

What had happened last night...?

Grimacing, Myles sat up, holding a hand to his head and running it over his face and thought his hair to clear his mind.

Wait, face?

Myles blinked, before his eyes widened as he looked around in search of his mask, which he found on the foot of the bed, sitting on top of his suit, which was neatly folded beside what appeared to be The Lady’s dress, with the matching mask resting on top of it.

Confused, Myles looked around before, shivering, he glanced down at himself to find that he wasn’t wearing anything other than the sheets, which he should have figured out due to the fact that his suit was at the end of the bed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think, trying to remember what had happened the previous night, though, thinking only made his head hurt from the wicked hangover.

After a moment, though, it came back to him in bits and pieces.

He remembered The Lady had kissed him while they were dancing, he remembered leaving and getting back to the hideout... she had requested he help her to her room, and then...

“Jesus Christ...” Myles breathed, shocked as last night’s events became clearer in his head and immediately he was surprised The Lady had allowed that to happen.

They were both drunk at the time though, he was sure it would not have happened while sober.

Figuring he should go find her, as she was nowhere in the room, Myles swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly started getting dressed, pulling the suit back on as he currently had nothing else to wear.

As he was dressing, he looked around the room, there wasn’t much in it other than a desk, covered in papers, a bookshelf, and the bed, and the room itself had white walls and carpet, and most of the furniture and fixtures were either black, or dark purple or red.

It reminded Myles of the room he had stumbled upon on the top floor, the one with the piano in it, and he figured that would be the first place he checked to see if he could find The Lady.

Once he was dressed, he stuck his hands in his pockets and was about to leave when he paused.

Frowning, he pulled something out of his pocket, which appeared to be a crumpled piece of paper, which Myles unfolded curiously.

Sherlock,

We were at the club last night, we followed you.

Please meet us in the make-up department as soon as possible.

We really need to talk.

~John

Myles frowned, his head pounding as he was in no way sober enough to attempt to solve this little puzzle, but, then the names popped out at him.

Sherlock.

John.

Hadn’t Sarah called Myles Sherlock just the other day, as a pun on her name?

Wait... John. John Watson?

Myles slapped a hand to his forehead.

Of course, he vaguely remembered a blonde woman bumping into him as he was leaving the club, it must have been Sarah, purposely doing it so she could slip the note into his pocket.