Chapter 21: Serenade

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(A/N: You'll get to the part later where you'll need to listen to this song. Please don't kill me, I don't care for Twilight, but it's a beautiful song. But personally, it's my favorite song to play on the piano, so I just had to write it in xD)

(Your POV)

The car ride was long and slightly awkward. None of us said much- I guess we were all too preoccupied with the case. With all the crazy things happening in preparation for tonight, it was easy to forget that we had an actual job to do tonight. I tried not to get distracted, but that proves hard to do when one is seated between two good-looking gentlemen.

By the time I broke the silence, we had already almost arrived at our destination. "What's the point of this ball, again?" Mycroft had skimmed over the basics with me, but I figured one of these two knew more than I did. I was right.

"The main purpose is business." Sherlock stated monotonously, not moving his gaze from the window. "Alexander Wellington founded Franco Enterprises a while back, but we believe it to be a cover for a criminal network that he may or may not be leading. He's invited representatives from several companies- most likely he's hoping to find some allies with... similar interests."

I nodded- it all made a bit more sense now. "Okay. And we're the representatives?"

"Precisely." The car slowed to a stop in front of a rather large building. "We're here." Sherlock exited first, extending his hand to help me out of the car. I sucked in a breath as I stared at the restaurant in awe. Sherlock followed my gaze and hummed in amusement. "It would seem our Mr. Wellington has a taste for the finer things in life."

"Yeah, no kidding." I breathed. The restaurant, clearly Italian, was most definitely five-stars. Once John had stepped out and the car had driven off, we took a brief moment to pull ourselves together and get in character.

John straightened his tuxedo. "Ready?" He asked, shooting me and Sherlock a face that said 'hurry up'.

I turned to Sherlock, biting my lip in sudden nervousness. He chuckled. "Having second thoughts, are we, Katherine?" He offered me his arm and I linked mine with his.

"Maybe." I whispered, a coy smile playing on my lips.

"You'll do fine." He whispered. He straightened up and turned to myself and John, grinning. "Onward." He beamed, switching to the Irish-English accent he would have to use for the rest of the night. As we walked up to the double doors, I reached up and turned my microphone on. The boys followed suit.

The doors were held open for us as we walked through, and a young woman took our coats for us. We were met in the lobby by a man clad in all black, who was standing behind a podium. "Buonasera," he said, his Italian accent obvious. "Do you have a reservation?" He eyed us suspiciously, as if we were a bunch of teenagers who were up to something. Well, in all fairness, I am a teenager.

"O'Reilly for three, sir." Sherlock said confidently, his accent never wavering.

The waiter nodded. "This way, please." We followed him further into the ginormous restaurant until he seated us near the center of the large room. I glanced at the ceilings, taking in the high arches and expensive chandeliers. However, what really caught my eye was the object in the very center of the room. There, in all its glory, was the finest-looking grand piano I had ever laid eyes upon. Out of instinct, my fingers started twitching, aching to rush over and play. It had been ages since I had last been able to perform, even for myself.

Sherlock pulled out my chair for me, and I quietly thanked him as he sat down next to me. John was seated directly in front of me. I took in the sights and sounds for a few more seconds before Sherlock leaned over and whispered into my ear.

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