THE BAKER STREET TRIO (SHERLOCK X READER)

Chapter 69: Hegs and Stag

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Mycroft sat in the backseat of a limo next to Molly, wearing a pink feather boa and holding a flute of champagne.

“I can’t believe you planned it.” Y/N said.

She wore a matching pink boa but he’d given her a plastic tiara in addition with “Party Girl” in glittering cursive. She loved it because she hated it so much.

“ Friends, ” Mycroft spat, “Why did I ever believe that would be a good idea.”

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked.

“That’s for us to know, and you to find out!” Molly said, already a little tipsy.

The car stopped downtown. Mycroft led them down a set of steps to a vault-like metal door guarded by an imposing bouncer.

“Mycroft Holmes.”

“Welcome,” The bouncer paused, looking at the pink feathers, “Sir.”

Mycroft held his head high, leading them inside to a packed nightclub. The walls pulsed with the beat of the music. Y/N was struck by the heat of so many bodies packed together on the dancefloor.

“We can brave the mosh pit if you like,” Mycroft said disdainfully. “But I’ve reserved the VIP room for the rest of our festivities.”

“Lead the way, Man of Honor.” She said.

~

“This is not a pub.” Sherlock said, looking around at the grand foyer.

John, Sherlock, and Lestrade had piled into a cab and traveled out of the city to huge old estate. A butler wearing white gloves opened the door and helped them with their coats. He informed them dinner would be served promptly at seven.

“You’re right.” John smiled, pleased with himself. “Not a pub.”

“I thought stag parties were supposed to be in pubs.” Sherlock said.

“Not as a rule.” Lestrade said.

“Evidently.” Sherlock said.

The butler opened the front door again and admitted a middle aged couple. They greeted the butler by name, exuding a familiarity with the place. More people arrived, mostly in pairs. Some had been there before and some had not. Lestrade and John made small talk while Sherlock walked around the foyer.

Peeking inside the closet where the butler had stowed their coats, Sherlock saw boxes of folded white cards on the floor. He feigned preoccupation with a scuff on his shoe, listening to the conversation of the couple who came in after them.

“I wonder who it’ll be this time.” The woman said.

“You don’t think they’ll make it the butler twice in a row, do you?” Her wife replied.

Sherlock straightened and walked calmly over to the butler.

“How can I help you sir?”

“I would like my coat.” Sherlock said.

“Oh, but dinner is about to begin, sir.”

“My coat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sherlock thanked him and put on his coat, flipping up the collar as he made for the front door.

“Hang on,” John called, “Sherlock!”

He and Lestrade ran after Sherlock, catching him outside before he could call another cab,

“Where are you going?” John asked