Sherlock sets my luggage down in our room. I look back at him with a playful glare, "I told you I could carry those."
"No lady should ever have to carry her lugagge."
"Haven't we already established that I am not a lady?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He smiles, "You'll always be my lady."
I roll my eyes, turning away so he can't see the smile on my face. Today, I finally decided to officially move in with him. On the agreement that we spend the night at my place every now and then. Sherlock was excited, but he, of course, didn't show it.
John steps into the room, "I can't believe it took you over a month to finally move in."
"It's because she's stubborn. She always has to do the exact opposite of what I say," Sherlock responds.
He gives me a smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "But, I always win in the end."
Sherlock Holmes is a very competitive man, I've realized that in the year I've known him. I happen to be competitive as well, so things always seem to be a competition between us.
"I wouldn't get used to it, Mr. Holmes," I add.
John smiles at the two of us, "You two should start getting ready, I'm sure Enola and the boys will be here soon."
Ah, right. How could I forget? Tonight, we are all going to see a play. Which now that I think about it may be a horrible idea. Enola and I don't exactly have a good reputation when it comes to sophisticated things. Especially theaters
I pull a dress out of my drawer. It's fancy enough for the theater, but it's light enough for me to be comfortable. Sherlock grabs his clothes as well and prepares to leave the room.
"Could you help lace my corset before you leave?" I ask.
I turn my back to him and begin undressing. When I look over my shoulder, I see that he's staring at me wide-eyed. I slip my corset on and walk over to him, turning my back towards him. "Don't be so bashful, Sherlock. I'm not entirely naked."
He begins tightening my corset, "I thought you didn't like corsets."
"I don't, but I've learned they work well in knife fights."
He pulls the strings tighter, "You're preparing for a knife fight?"
"I'm always prepared for a knife fight."
He chuckles and ties the strings. "Is that tight enough?"
I adjust the corset and nod, "Yes, thank you."
I slide my dress on and reach around my back to tie it when he takes the strings away. He ties my dress for me and steps back when he's done. "You look beautiful."
"I haven't even done my hair or makeup."
He gives me a charming smile, "You don't need to."
I sit at my vanity and start doing my makeup. "Keep talking to me like that, and I won't even need to wear rouge."
He stands behind me and places a kiss on my cheek, staring at me through the mirror. "I'll leave you to finish getting ready."
"You could get ready in here with me to save you the time of getting ready in the stuffy bath room," I say slowly.
He tilts his head, "Is that just an excuse to see me shirtless?"
"Maybe," I say with a shrug.
He chuckles, and I continue doing my makeup. Enola had given me a new lipstick, saying it would look good on me. But, it is much darker than what I'm used to. I stare at my reflection, analyzing the darker makeup. Normally, I only wear a tiny bit, but tonight, I felt like doing something different.
Sherlock stands behind me, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of my head. "I like this look."
"You don't think it's too much?" I ask nervously.
He kisses the top of my head, "Not at all, but you should leave your hair down."
He walks out of the room, and I move to the floor-length mirror. I spin, admiring how the dark red dress moves around me. The necklace Sherlock got me stands out against my dark dress and makeup. My fingers grasp it lightly, a giddy smile on my face.
"You look like a vampire."
I turn around to see Timothée leaning against the doorway, a smirk on his face. Enola walks in, slapping his shoulder. She grins when she sees me, "I told you that lipstick would look good, and oh my God, that dress is stunning."
She's wearing a pale blue dress, her makeup is lighter than mine, but she looks gorgeous as always. I grab her hand, and the two of us walk out. Sherlock watches me from the kitchen, his eyes trail up and down my body.
I raise an eyebrow at him, and he turns around, "Let's go."
~~°°••°°~~
The six of us arrive at the theater, gathering the attention of everyone waiting outside. I tug on Sherlock's sleeve, "Why is everyone outside?"
"Because we're early."
Enola groans, "We have to wait outside?"
"This is how you get the best seats," Tewkesbury says.
Enola and I share an annoyed look. Clearly, the men were more excited about this than we were. Timothée stands on the other side of me. He's still nervous around Sherlock, but it seems they have gotten over their feud.
"I think they're about to open the doors," Timothée says.
I look around the crowd. Most of the women are staring at Sherlock, but I notice some of them are staring at Timothée. A smirk makes its way onto my face as I lean over to Timothée, "I think the ladies like you, Timmy Tim."
"What do you mean?"
I roll my eyes, "They're all staring at you."
He looks around, a light blush on his face. "Impossible. Why would they look at me?"
I stare at him in confusion. Is he serious? There's no way he just said that.
"Timothée, I'm saying this in a completely respectful and friendly way. You are one of the most attractive men I have ever seen."
Sherlock looks over at us now, a small smirk on his face as he watches Timothée struggle to form a sentence.
"You're insane," Timothée says.
I roll my eyes, "You are too humble, Timmy boy. If I had a face as handsome yours, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."
"I'd date myself if I looked like Timothée," Tewkesbury says.
Timothée shakes his head, "We should drop this conversation now. The doors are open."
He walks ahead of us, eager to end the conversation. Enola and I laugh before jogging to catch up to him. When we're on either side of him, we link our arms.
"Don't worry, Tim. Tonight, we will find you a woman," Enola says.
The poor boy sighs, "I didn't agree to this."
"You don't have a choice," I reply.
We walk up the stairs, claiming a section of the balcony seats. The rest of our group join us. Sherlock immediately takes the seat next to me. His arm wraps around my shoulders, and I lean into him.
"The last few times we were in a theater together didn't end well," I say.
He laughs, "Mycroft isn't here to annoy you, so I think it'll be fine."
"Your brother shouldn't be such an asshole," I reply.
"He's a politician. What do you expect?"
I laugh at his words. He didn't intend for it to be a joke, but it was rather funny. Sherlock kisses my forehead, and my face heats at the public affection. He's definitely become more affectionate the last few months. Not that I'm complaining, it's nice to see the romantic side of him. The looks on people's faces when they see it as well makes me laugh.
"We look like a family," Enola says suddenly.
I look around at the people in front of me, "We are a family. A bit dysfunctional at times, but a family regardless."
"Let's just hope Enola and (Y/n) don't get stabbed tonight," Tewkesbury says.
Timothée gives me a scared look, "Why do you say that so normally?"
"It's a long story, Timmy Tim."