THE GRAND BALLROOM (MAIN THREAD)

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THE GRAND BALLROOM

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Food, bar, and dance floor to the east side; stage, tables and entertainment to the west. Mingle with everyone here as this is where the real party is at. ;P
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[DR. JOHN WATSON]

//all dressed up with everywhere to go//

For Sherlock, possibly James if he wants to cut in right now.

How did I fool myself into thinking that Sherlock needed to get out of the house?

Oh, it was probably the whole being alone with his worst enemy (ie: the dog) that made him want to come with me, but it was my mistake in thinking that the man needed a social life. It was becoming clear to me that he couldn't have one, at least not a normal one. Or with anyone but me. I felt chained to him, but I didn't really mind it so much. It was only when I was trying to flirt with women at the bar did it bother me. Obviously.

He was attached to me, I swear. I could almost see the strings. But then again, I remembered that he probably hadn't been out like this in his entire life, so of course he clings to the only stable thing in the room. It was common among people to latch onto a familiar face to ease pressure and stress. I'm not sure what he was thinking when he sounded so excited when I brought the New Year's Eve party up, and I certainly didn't know what he was thinking now.

I knew what I was thinking, and he probably did too, the nosy git. I tried to flirt with the girls at the bar (some too young for me, which Sherlock was kind enough to point out). So I just settled for having a drink.

"Why don't you sit and have a glass too?" I asked my friend. "Or do you have something better to occupy your time with, like searching for someone my age that I can take an interest in, then finding something else in them that's not worth my time?"

Oh god, he knew I was joking, right? I couldn't tell if he knew or not, the way he was about everything. He might take me seriously for all I knew. I just waited and sipped my drink, straightening my tie. There was a lovely blonde down at the other end of the bar. Maybe she'd notice me, and she did in fact look my age. I hope Sherlock didn't take me up on that offer.

ooc: sorry it's kinda short and dumb, I'm no good at group threads. Maybe I can gain some experience with this? ;D

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure anymore as to why he had agreed to this.

In all honest truth, attending the New Year's Eve party had seemed to be a great idea at the time, and Holmes was certain that he would be going even if John hadn't suggested so - though (also in honest truth), the man had a tendency to go back on his word. But it was his own fault, as always. The only problem was that Sherlock didn't seem to be able to manage seeing that.

And it probably showed.

Leaning his back against the bar, Sherlock cast somewhat of an uniterested gaze around the room. Within a minute or so he had absorbed all fo the information that he thought would possibly be needed at a later point in the evening; Holmes didn't bother remembering an awful lot. After all the knowledge of 'who was going to go home with who' was of neither use nor interest to the detective.

Holmes turned his attention back to John, who was sat to his right. He was quite suprised that the Doctor had put up with him for so long - being, of course, fully aware of the fact that he had been hovering annoyingly close for the entire duration of their time there. The action was, of some sort, the man's own, personalized version of a dignified sulk.

"Why don't you sit and have a glass too?"
He arched an eyebrow at this, somewhat unsure of whether Watson actually knew of Sherlock's dislike of alcohol. He would never admit it, but despite his ease at endurance of the 'other' activities that were somewhat of a regular habit, Holmes was practically what one would call a 'lightweight' when it came to drinking.
Suprise, suprise.

"Or do you have something better to occupy your time with, like searching for someone my age that I can take an interest in, then finding something else in them that's not worth my time?"
The eyebrow shot even further. If it weren't for John's distraction, the detective would quite possibly have taken an utter delight in acting as though he genuinely thought that the Doctor wasn't joking. But he felt the need to, once again, rescue Watson from what would have been a foolish mistake.

Sherlock sighed, legs stretching out and crossing at the ankles as he shot little more than a glance toward the light-haired woman some way further down.
"Don't waste your time, John. She's already juggling three 'boyfriends' - the term in this case being extremely far from accurate-" at this he directed a 'look' toward the man he was addressing, explaining without words that yes, that was exactly what he meant, just in case he didn't understand, "And seems to be deeply involved in a little bit of a muddle involving recreational drugs."
That was where he promptly shut up, averting his gaze back to the collection of people drifting around the room before speaking again.
"Not worth it."

Because he was rescuing John, wasn't he? Even if the man didn't understand it, there definitely was some slight hint of goodwill in his actions.

---

OOC: I know I said I'd post yesterday, but I got severely distracted by Brusho powders. >.< Sorry for the late post.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James loathed these sort of gatherings. Loathed, hated, despised, all of the above. It boiled down to him not standing people mostly. James didn't mix well with civilized society really. His sarcasm was difficult to keep in check and the temptation of just tearing a stranger a new hole for no reason other than to see their hurt faces.

And yet, he was at this thing.

Why? Why did he lower himself to spend time at this travesty? Two simple words.

Sherlock Holmes.

James was very much like a child whose favorite game included roasting ants with a magnifying glass.

James' ant happened to be named Sherlock Holmes.

Strolling into the manor, head held high, and a watchful eye out for anything entertaining, it was no trouble spotting Sherlock and his loyal bitch John Watson.

How cute they were.

Plastering a pleasant, warm smile on his face, James strolled up to the bar and leaned against it right beside John Watson, ordering a martini, adding an obviously playful "Shaken, not stirred" at the end, winking at watson as he did so.

[MYCROFT HOLMES]

(For James and whoever else is in his path.)

Going to a party was not on his To Do list for the day. However, his boss decided that it would be a good advertisement opportunity for him and his fellow Senior Partners to make themselves visible. Mycroft was not happy about being dragged there. While the rest of the partners were enthusiastic about being at such a party, Mycroft intended to get as drunk as possible to forget that he was there.

Unfortunately when he got to the bar in the main ballroom, he noticed the bunch at said bar. Sherly, for one, was lounging while Dr. Watson enjoyed his drink. While James Edwards walked up to him with that gleam in his eye.

Of course they would be at this party; the people he did not want to deal with at that particular moment. Mycroft wondered if he could subtly turn around and leave before anyone noticed he was standing ten feet away. Considering who was at that bar, that was highly unlikely.

That meant he would have to approach the people at the bar in order to get his drink and be about his business.

He did not like that idea one bit. In any matter, he walked to the bar briskly, leaving distance between himself and their group as he ordered his drink.

"Harvey Wallbanger. Strong."

[IRENE ADLER]

She walked up the stairs and let the taffeta open back dress fall, the pieces she was carrying playing in the ground as she fixed her jewelry and started to walk inside the party. Social events were a fun time. She needed these fun times to actually grasp life by its horns before the New Year ended. She loved the New Year; it meant that she could mold herself to whomever she wanted. Nobody would judge her, and nobody ever could really.

She was like a blooming flower, changing and molding. Transforming and taking wings and flying away. The problem with men was that she found them not like Holmes, a dashing fellow who had so much potential to be a lover. To be her husband. But these were silly ideas that went on in her head, she now needed to move past them. Gain a new resolution. Before long she was grabbing a flute and eyeing the room.

No one that she had fucked was here, and yet at the same time when she stepped further into the party that she found her eyes locked onto Sherlock Holmes smirking she picked up her dress and started to walk more into the crowd. She wanted to have a closer look to how the man was. It had been years, she felt foreign to him. I mean sure she was suppose to be in London, but circumstances had changed.

So now she was here, and ready and willing to show him her face. Standing near a pillar , she turned around and started to see if she was shadowed. If she could escape and make a clear get away. Her mind distracted by a voice of a young man as he asked her a flurry of questions. Her Laughter heard as she indeed enjoy a young mans company especially someone as handsome as this one was.

[DR. JOHN WATSON]

For Sherlock and James

"Not worth it."

A second glance at the girl, and I realized Sherlock was probably right. She had large bags under her eyes, and she kept figeting and scratching herself, looking back and forth between her drink and everyone else around her at lightning speed. She was clearly going through something drug related, and it was probably this damned drink (or my own lack of observational skills, probably) that hindered me from not noticing. Maybe I really should learn from Sherlock to notice things more. Might make me a better doctor.

I sighed, deciding it wasn't the drink but my own obliviousness, and downed another mouthful. I laughed half heartedly and muttered a rather sarcastic thanks to my friend. It wasn't so much the fact that there was another girl in New York City that Sherlock had barred me from having a relationship with that bothered me, but the fact that he just loves to show off.

I felt a disturbance to my right, and as I looked up a startlingly handsome man came into my view. Wait... Sherlock didn't know... Did he? Oh of course he did, he couldn't possibly NOT know... Unless... Well, I didn't exactly flaunt it, especially with the way I actively persued women. He'd think I was completely and one hundred percent straight. That wasn't entirely true... Just about 98%. Maybe 95...? Okay, it was probably a solid 80%, happy now? God I need to stop talking to myself.

Oh, oh look! Ha, a wink! He was flirting with me! But wait... Did I really look that gay, or bisexual or whatever? Though I thought myself a manly sort, I wasn't opposed to being flirted with. It was a nice change of pace.

I should return the advance, shouldn't I? Or maybe it wasn't directed to me as a flirtatious gesture, but a gesture shared between two straight men? What if I got that wrong? Wouldn't the guy be offended?

Look at me, thinking like a woman. Good Lord, this must be how Sherlock feels all the time, mind racing like a train engine, except his is probably ten times worse.

Keep it together, John, keep it together. Instead of saying anything to the man, I just smiled softly back. Any straight man wouldn't notice how I put my intentions out there behind my eyes, but if he was really flirting with me, he'd get the message.

And what about Sherlock at my side? He'd notice all of this. He'd find out I was a little bi-curious, and what would he do then? He might just laugh at me, and God knows I couldn't take Sherlock Holmes laughing at me. Oh, he'd say something like "It's bad enough that you have to infatuate yourself with women and their vulgarities, but men too?! Really John..." Blah blah blah, I'd never hear the end of it.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

He was about to laugh at the Doctor's expression - obviousness showing blatantly all over his features (but had John really expected him to not have noticed? Honestly, the effects of alcohol were bizarre) - until Holmes caught sight of the man who had set off Watson's nervousness in the first place.
James Moriarty.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and the detective found himself subconsciously leaning slightly nearer to the seated man, training his gaze on his nemesis for a few moments.
"You're growing rather clingy, James. I'm sure there's something better for you to do here."
The fingers of his left hand tapped idly on the edge of the bar as he spoke, shooting John a warning glance that he had come to perfect in the recent weeks. Moriarty had become a commonly uttered name in Baker Street, but it occurred to Sherlock that the Doctor had probably never come face-to-face with the detective's rival before.

The tall man rolled his head back dramatically, fixing an agitated stare at the ceiling. Even he knew that it wasn't 'proper' to glare at fellow guests of what could prove to be a slightly interesting party, and so set out all of his temper toward the unfortunate paintwork above.
Despite not looking at the room anymore, Holmes could still see many guests rather well in his peripheral vision. The first to attract his attention was promptly ignored - the man had no interest to talk to, advance toward or even appear to ankowledge his brother at the current time, and felt fairly sure that Mycroft was eager to do the same. Despite their difference, the Holmes brothers could still, at the end of the day, agree on at least one thing.
But the second was far more captivating.

Sherlock spotted a familiar face.

Torn between hoping she was and hoping she wasn't, the man's head snapped down suddenly - and so ferociously that one could probably hear a lightly audible 'click'. Could it have been her?
The last time the detective had seen her hadn't been an ideal one - 'calm' and 'collected' certainly being in the list of antonyms to describe the confrontation. And, however much he longed to stick by the original intention of them never to see one another again, he couldn't help but ignore a tiny flame begin to flicker in the corner of his mind.

His eyes began to roam quickly over each and every other person in attendance of the Ballroom, barely bothering to take in any unnecessary facts that wouldn't be useful to the current situation.
And he could swear that, if only once, his eyes met with those of Irene Adler.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

"You're growing rather clingy, James. I'm sure there's something better for you to do here."

"And what, possibly, would be better to do than your acquaintance here?" James queried politely, smiling first at Sherlock then turning his charming gaze onto Watson again. He was about to lean over and make some ever so slightly scandalous remark designed to shock and seduce at the same time when he spotted to familiar faces almost instantly. Mycroft Holmes (looking quite dapper) and that skank, Irene Adler. James barely managed to suppress a lip curl of disgust at seeing her. Instead, he focused his attention onto Mycroft.

"Hello darling," James drawled, turning his body to face the older Holmes brother. "What on earth compelled you to come here?" James smiled his trademark, shark-like smile at Mycroft. He continued to completely ignore Adler and Holmes, still lavishing his attention onto Mike and John Watson equally.

He helped himself to his drink and offered to buy both men a drink to enjoy for the evening.

Without pausing for a breath, he turned back to Watson and held out his hand. "I'm sorry, I've been so rude. My name is Professor James Edwards, Sherly here knows me by another name. I'll give you a hint, it's the letter after L but before N."

[MYCROFT HOLMES]

Sherlock and he had a system they went by when neither were in the mood for anyone's shit. They ignored each other. It was simple. One nod, one nod in reply, that was it. They didn't need to stand around and exchange pleasantries. It was useless, considering who they were. They could look at each other and find out all they needed to know.

Mycroft nodded at the bartender when his drink was slid to him. He took it and sipped at it, glancing over at where Jim had acknowledged him, calling him darling. He sneered over the top of his glass. He was not in the mood for this game.

"Don't call me that, Jim." Turning, he leaned off of the bar and shoved his free hand in his pocket. "My boss sent the seniors here to advertise. Manditory." A grunt at the end of the sentence punctuated his annoyance with the entire situation. "I don't even see how that helps with advertisement, considering all the partners are going to do is get drunk off their asses."

Mycroft glanced at Dr. Watson, who was the object of James' toying that night, noticing how he was a bit flustered. Frankly, he didn't care who James flirted with or not. It wasn't any of his concern. If he felt like flirting with the doctor, fine.

[IRENE ADLER]

Irene stared at James and snarled. That devil, how could he even get close to Holmes. Were they not enemies. But yet that was not her quarrel there, she had no place to judge, and by the looks of things . There were other people around and she needed to behave like a lady. Walking away, she winked at the young man as she started walk herself away towards the buffet.

Her eyes looking back as she stared at Holmes once again and smiled. Her body moving away as she wandered to the buffet table. Her hands picking up a plate as she started to serve herself some cold meats and cheese and started to move away and sat down on one of the tables. Funnily enough she was already in a position where she could see Holmes, she pretended that she had not noticed him.

But she knew dam well that it would be impossible not to notice that their eyes met for a few brief minutes. Even though they were short intervals she could not really help herself and feel her whole stomach fill with butterflies. She should know that she knew everything that was there to know. She knew how to control a man, and what to do when she felt uninterested in one of them.

But if she knew anything at all, she was in love with the stranger in the bar. Her appetite gone as she was not knowing if she had all the answers right. She would give all her life for one night to make a moment with Holmes to count. Scratching her neck, she sighed and started to slowly chew on some cheese. The distraction of eating was enough to break her eye contact from the man for a few brief minutes. But she was curious, curious about him.

[DR. JOHN WATSON]

When Sherlock had given me "the look," I knew that there had to be trouble, but for a moment I just didn't want to believe it. Of all the things Sherlock had said about James Moriarty, it certainly wasn't how handsome and charming he was. I had previously pictured him as being an older, more sinister man, like a frightening Vincent Price or a vampiric Christopher Lee, some sort of gothic, yet brilliant, leech of a villain. I didn't expect him to be this shark of a man, glittering and ethereal eyes looking at me serenely.

I turned away from Jim's gaze and pressed my glass against my lips. I had to pull myself together! This man was a highly dangerous criminal, more disturbing than charming. But... Then again I suddenly remembered how dangerous and disturbing my own flatmate was, at times. Could he really be all that bad if he was his complete match in every way? I could put up with Holmes on a daily basis, why couldn't I put up with Moriarty for one night? Where was the harm in it, honestly? Of course Sherlock would see the harm in it, though he hardly knew my opinions on my own sex.

"And what, possibly, would be better to do than your acquaintance here?"

I almost swallowed my drink wrong. Well, a bit forward much? Not that women haven't been forward with me, its just... Well, he was Moriarty. Wasn't this kind of his thing?

When James adressed the other man, who distinctly reminded me of someone else, and bought us both drinks, I started feeling the affects of the drink, but I was still coherent... Enough. Well, Jim was kind enough to buy me a drink. That was nice of you, Professor James Edwards... Wait... What letter came after L? I couldn't recall.

I held my fist against my mouth to prevent myself to prevent hiccups and laughed lightly. "I know your name, you know, and I'm sure you know mine." I grinned at him, uncaring of how Sherlock would react by my side. It wasn't necessarily my business, anyway. I didn't care what sort of animosity was between them, I just knew James was flirting with me, and I wasn't opposed to it. After all, Sherlock had very nearly ruined my chances with every other girl in the room, what did it matter if I flirted back with the only man in the room who was interested in me?

"Also... Thanks for the drink," I offered, sipping it casually and looking at him from the corner of my eye.