Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Sixteen

London at twilight was a deep, cold blue; grasping onto the last few moments of sun before it disappeared below the skyline. February had a cold, dry wind that whistled and rushed against the window of Margaux's bedroom.

She sat at her dressing table examining her reflection. Her hair was freshly washed, still wet, and tied up in a knot on top of her head. She combed through her thick, dark eyebrows and set them in place, drew a flick of liner across her lids and coated her lashes in mascara. She enjoyed putting on makeup. There was something therapeutic about it, she thought.

Margaux had made and lost many friends throughout her life, only a few had stuck. She met Hugo and Steph at University when they were nothing more than a group of awkward, unsure teenagers. She watched them fall in love, stood side by side with them at graduation, waved them off after their wedding as they began their new life in America. Now they kept in touch through emails and photographs. She loved them, but an ocean was a long way to go for a hug or a cup of coffee. Her other friend Rose, she had known since high school. Margaux had been there, in the school bathroom, when Rose's pregnancy test came back positive. They cried together, worked badly-paid jobs together, and now Rose lived in a terraced house on the outskirts of London with her two children. They had almost nothing in common but that didn't matter. Rose was her best friend; they just clicked, like two puzzle pieces.

Margaux sent Rose a text, thanking her again for taking Vaughan for the night. Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

'Enjoy yourself xx'

She smiled and returned to her reflection. She finished her makeup with a sweep of lipstick and dried her hair in soft waves before slipping on her dress; mid-length, figure hugging, straps that draped off her shoulders. She smiled at her neighbour in the corridor as she locked her front door and rushed downstairs to the cab that was waiting outside.

III

"Welcome."

"Hi, thanks for coming."

John and Mary had stood near the door of the bar shaking hands and hugging people for what felt like hours.

"Welcome, so glad you could make it," said Mary as a guest entered. She turned to John and spoke quietly "My cheeks hurt from smiling."

John laughed and put his arm around her waist.

"Ah, here he is," said John as Sherlock walked into the bar.

He stood across from the couple in his well-fitted suit, hands behind his back, curls parted slightly on one side. He regarded the dimly lit bar decorated in flowers, banners, engagement celebrations.

"Hello," he said.

"Aren't you going to congratulate us?" said Mary teasingly.

"I congratulated you when you got engaged. Saying it again now would be futile."

"Of course, silly me."

Sherlock walked past them and took a glass of champagne from the bar. He sat down at a table with Mrs Hudson, Greg Lestrade, Molly and her Sherlock lookalike fiancé. He had been warned not to mention the eerie similarities.

"Did you lock up when you left?" Asked a tipsy Mrs Hudson.

"No, Mrs Hudson, I left every door and window wide open with a big 'burgle us' sign outside," he replied.

"Oh Sherlock," she shooed him with her hand and returned to talking to Lestrade.

III

Mycroft sat at his desk, sifting through a mound of files. He made a note on the final page of a brown folder and placed it to one side, immediately picking up the next one.