They arrived at their destination, an expansive and imposing house in a fashionable district of London. As he and Holmes descended from the carriage, Watson took in the magnificent **Detail, detail, detail**. Their carriage meanwhile drove on towards a mews at the back of the private grounds. Holmes stopped Watson's gawking at the architecture by joining his arm with Watson's and squeezing. Then he subtly pressed Watson forward to ring the front door bell.

A distinguished-looking old butler answered immediately, giving them a deferential and expectant nod, as if he had seen them from the window and waited for their ring. Watson handed over his card as they entered the front hall and removed their outergarments. "Lord Severton, and guest," the butler murmured in acknowledgement before taking the card into one of the front rooms and leaving them by the entrance.

It did not surprise Watson that no chamber was available solely for their reception, for he observed that the house seemed to overflow from all its rooms and staircases with expensively-attired gentlemen, all chatting each other up. While Holmes remained nonchalantly holding onto Watson's arm, winking now and again to handsome strangers in a tartish fashion, Watson glanced about the interior with his best Holmes-like gaze of dispassionate, cold analysis. **Detail, detail, detail**. This was apparently a place of assignation as well as a sort of gentlemen's club. Smoking, drinking, and flirting occurred throughout.

Presently the butler returned and showed Watson and Holmes into a crowded parlour. "Lord Severton, and guest," the butler announced before them, to a group of especially elegant men occupying several sofas and chairs in a far corner of the room. From that group, a bearded man with a monocle rose to greet them, shaking hands with Watson and announcing himself as **Detail, detail, detail** "And might we know the name of your guest?" he inquired about Holmes.

"* Detail. *" Holmes answered.

* Detail, detail * apologised for the informality of this establishment, and explained the unlikelihood that they would ever meet their host tonight. "The most we have available for extended reception is the colonel, here." He pointed out the man seated at the center of their circle, holding court, as it were, in an amused manner. The colonel invited the new arrivals to join the group, "Come, converse with us. Have some drinks."

H&W sat together upon the settee to the colonel's left, while other introductions and pleasantries were offered by the other eight men. Drinks were very civilly and generously poured for them, and the conversation resumed. **Detail, detail, detail**

Holmes spoke most of the time for the two of them, giving Watson occasional hints to lead him in what to say. The discussion roamed in a desultory manner over many topics, but every now and again the talk centered once more on H&W. As a couple, they were questioned with mild interest and curiosity, the sort of scrutiny that any newcomers probably experienced.

Holmes's responses were lively, brash, and infinitely entertaining to their audience in the immediate vicinity. Watson observed other pockets of activity roaming in and out of the room in the meanwhile. This was a diverse company, consisting of the casually playful, the aggressively masculine, the loungingly bored, the obnoxiously drunk, and the quietly intense, who communicated with pointed stares across the room. A few of these stares rested on Watson, who sharply looked away, as he had been advised to do.

Meanwhile Holmes's character was both possessive and flirtatious, somehow feeling like an outlandish exaggeration of Holmes's familiar taste for drama and his need for an audience. As though for an endearing, cloying effect, he familiarly referred to Lord Severton as 'Jack' repeatedly.

**Detail, detail, detail** [subtle questioning about the missing aristocrat]

With a casual gesture, H&W rose together to take a "pleasant walk" around the house. Among the corridors again, they saw nameless men lingering singly or in groups all over the house. Some conversed close beside couples kissing or dancing. Heedless men also bumped into H&W in the haze of tobacco smoke. Watson caught sight of more than one group either entering or exiting a bedroom.

Still Watson and Holmes strolled on through the thick haze. Holmes appeared casual but guided Watson with a subtle tug that suggested that they were looking for something in particular.

Watson wondered how Holmes had learned something to put an end to his subtle interviewing of the other guests about the lost aristocrat. Watson mentally went over their varied conversation closely, but could not ascertain an answer. He lost his train of thought and took a breath when Holmes leaned near to nip another kiss at his neck, leaving more rouge upon Watson's collar.

They turned the corner to a particularly quiet part of the house, and Holmes released Watson's arm at last. "Stay here," he whispered, "and keep watch."

Holmes thereupon stole forward quietly and began examining the corridor with his magnifying glass, going over each piece of decorative furniture and houseplant in his usual meticulous manner. Watson hesitated with unsatisfied curiosity, but dutifully remained at his post.

Upon hearing the faint sound of scraping, though, Watson realised that Holmes must be taking samples of something. Watson ventured a few steps nearer and glanced in Holmes's direction, where he caught sight of Holmes, who, kneeling on the floor at the foot of a chaise lounge, was scraping traces of some substance into an envelope. Watson smiled, pleased to think that he might finally have successfully picked up some of Holmes's observational skills.

Watson turned, however, when he realised that footsteps were approaching. Watson coughed to attract Holmes's attention and hurried back to forestall whoever approached. "Lord Cresley," he called out, stopping the man with a handshake.

"Hallo," Cresley replied, eyeing Watson with interest through his monocle. "Where's your--" A rustling sound of movement came from Holmes's direction and made Cresley turn suspiciously. Pressing Watson's arm, he too enjoined, "Stay here," and hurried forward.

Watson followed anxiously and halted when he saw Cresley standing over Holmes at the chaise. "What have we here?" the lord adjusted his monocle again.

Holmes sprawled on the chaise in a careless, almost wanton, manner. His face seeming expectant at first, Holmes pouted upon seeing Cresley. He sniffed with scornful insolence. "Jack and I are playing hide-and-seek, if you don't mind."

Cresley raised an eyebrow. "A rather poor hiding place, hmm?" He ran his eyes over Holmes.

"The point," Holmes sighed with mild patience, "is not where to hide, but where it could be enjoyable to be found."

Cresley smiled with interest. "Is that so?" he chuckled. "Do you often enjoy such artless, rudimentary games?"

Holmes eyed Cresley in boredom and challenged, "What games do you know?"

Cresley shrugged, amused by his arrogance. "I know that the chaise upon which you now lie may not be a very sturdy piece of furniture, due to prior use. You and 'Jack' might wish to try elsewhere."

Holmes lifted an eyebrow curiously. "Much frequented, is it?"

Cresley only commented vaguely, "It's worn enough." He turned to exit towards Watson's end of the corridor again.

Holmes stopped Cresley from departing by stretching out his leg and touching the sole of his shoe to the thigh of Cresley's trouser leg.

Cresley stepped back and brushed off his trouser leg with slight annoyance. "Now, watch it..."

Quite unapologetic, Holmes merely pursed his lips. "And you would know how?" he asked significantly, folding his hands. Holmes lay even further back on the chaise. "Do you often drop by?"

Cresley detected the change in his tone of voice, peering at Holmes's face closely. When he found Holmes once again pressing a shoe against his trouser, Cresley grasped Holmes just above his ankle to pull off his offending contact. However, he felt Holmes stubbornly press back against his leg.

Releasing the lean ankle, Cresley adjusted his monocle again and watched Holmes brush the smooth top of his shoe, rather than the sole, suggestively around the side of his trouser leg.

Watson inhaled and widened his eyes, still standing out of view at the far end of the corridor. He had a desire to step forward and interrupt, but was frozen by shock.

"I may have to confiscate your shoes," Cresley murmured, restraining Holmes again.

Holmes laughed in a low rumble. He sat up at last, retrieving his foot with an elegant motion. "And what else?" he hissed. Holmes shifted on the chaise and bent his leg back to clear a space for Cresley to sit.

"Ah, an invitation?" he observed sardonically. Cresley sat down at the end and brushed his trousers clean of dust again.

Holmes smiled. He murmured softly, lowering his eyelids, "What other things do you know about this place? What lovely, darling secrets can you tell me?"

Cresley leaned a touch nearer, laying one hand upon Holmes's knee. "Hmm, have I found a nosy little gossip here? A naughty thing?"

Holmes pulled Cresley close by the collar. "I like to play."

Cresley ran a hand down the back of Holmes's neck. "I think," he smiled, "that I could begin to amuse you."

Sighing, Holmes permitted a lingering kiss upon his cheek and a warm breath in his ear.

Watson very nearly stumbled over himself, and in any case could no longer be still while this happened before his eyes. He stepped forward without thinking, only panicking and changing his mind to leave when it was too late to do so.

Cresley released Holmes and started to look up, having forgotten that anyone had been nearby.

Holmes blinked and did not have to turn around to know. He called out inquiringly, "Jack?"

Watson pushed a plant he had tripped over out of the way and waited.

"Jack?" Holmes shifted around on the chaise to face him.

Watson cleared his throat and looked stern in response to Holmes's slight frown.

Holmes gazed at Watson with sleepy eyes. "I was not so difficult to find?" he blinked, pouting just a little. "You would not leave me waiting forever?"

Watson stepped forward. "No," he said flatly.

Holmes smiled and looked more at ease. "Games are not half so fun without you in them." He drew Watson nearer and kissed his hand lightly. Lounging casually again upon the chaise, Holmes glanced back to Cresley and remarked as if in confidence, "Jack has very particular tastes." He chuckled wickedly. "Haven't you?" Holmes pulled Watson close by the collar.

Watson took the apparent hint to focus his gaze solely on Holmes; certainly Watson was quite doubtful about how he should face Cresley, as Holmes showed no guilt or anxiety that would seem to be natural complements to any jealousy on Watson's part.

"Indeed?" Cresley sat calmly adjusting his monocle again, glancing between the two of them and assessing the situation with curiosity.

Shrugging idly to Watson, Holmes enquired about Cresley, "Have you any interest?"

Watson attempted to peer critically at Cresley while trying to formulate the proper response. What would be the proper etiquette of refusal without deeply offending Cresley? Watson felt out of his depth here and returned his attention to Holmes. He stared at Holmes with a sufficiently intense concentration to bring a subtle smile and nod to Holmes's face.

Running a hand along Watson's collar, Holmes laughed softly. "Why, Jack darling, what's the matter?" He beamed and batted his eyelashes. "Are you in the mood to be jealous tonight? Over me?"

Without a word, Watson brushed his hand against Holmes's cheek, lingering especially over where Cresley's breath had disturbed Holmes's makeup and violated the skin beneath.

Holmes lowered his eyelids. "Oh, Jack, you are jealous. You haven't been in such a long time..."

So Watson became more possessively assertive, kissing Holmes's cheek as Cresley had done. Moreover, he kissed as though to erase even the memory of Cresley's offending contact. Holmes responded with an eager, almost purring, sound.

Cresley took definite notice of this enthusiasm and raised his eyebrow. He rose from the chaise and cleared his throat. "I see that I underestimated your subtleties, you minx. Clearly, your game was never simply hide-and-seek." He adjusted his monocle and bowed his head slightly, in farewell.

Over Watson's shoulder, Holmes smirked insolently at him, then disregarded Cresley altogether by capturing Watson's mouth in a sudden, intense kiss that drew a deep moan from Watson's throat.

Cresley took the hint and departed, shaking his head as he disappeared down the corridor.

When they were alone, their kiss ended, and Watson gasped shakily, sinking down onto the chaise as well. "Holmes," he whispered involuntarily, blinking and half collapsing against the wall behind them.

Holmes slid his arms around Watson and kissed his neck lightly, speaking under his breath, "Take me into the bedroom."

"The bedroom?" Watson frowned, uncertain that he was even fully recovered from the force of Holmes's tongue on the inside of his throat.

Holmes nodded, still clinging close to Watson. "The door just behind you, closest to this chaise lounge. I must search the room."

Realising his meaning, Watson swallowed and rose with Holmes from the chaise, going to the door. Hanging onto Watson's arm, Holmes whispered into his ear, "Knock first. If it isn't vacant, we'll wait."

Watson did so, receiving no response to his knock. He cautiously opened the door. Indeed, there was no one there, but as they entered, the door on the opposite side of the corridor opened, revealing a curious neighbouring couple peeking out.

Holmes brushed Watson's shoulder as a warning and then kissed him in the doorway. They were once again a passionately self-absorbed couple, and they kissed their way inside the room, kicking the door shut after them. Holmes continued with sighing caresses and biting kisses for a few moments more, embracing Watson against the wall. "Jack..." he moaned, his eyes closed. "Jack..."

Finally, they heard the other door close across the corridor, and Holmes released Watson to catch his breath. Turning, Holmes found the lamp and mirror in the room, assessing his appearance quickly. A great deal of Holmes's makeup had worn away, but he decided not to bother repairing it yet. "Watson," Holmes called him over to the dressing-table beside him, then pointed out to Watson his own significantly stained face. "You might wish to put your handkerchief and the basin to good use. I'll search."

Thereupon, Holmes produced his magnifying glass again and went to work. He crawled over every inch of the room, overturning rugs, cushions, and anything else in his path.