lightconductor | Take care of those you call your own, and keep good company...

After sitting bolt upright, alarmed at the sudden intrusion upon such a very intimate moment, Watson shot Holmes an irritated look. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he grumbled.

He set his book aside, and after taking a moment to straighten out his rather rumpled clothing, he went to answer the door. What sort of "engagement" Lestrade might have momentarily eluded him, but as he opened the door to greet him, and saw who was with him, what Holmes was talking about suddenly dawned on him. Surely not already?

"Lestrade!" Watson greeted, ushering them inside. "Miss Morstan! This is an unexpected pleasure." Ideally it wouldn't have been just at that moment, when he was so comfortably seated in Holmes's lap; he resisted the urge to reach up to feel if his hair was ruffled, and to smooth it down if it was. "What brings you this way tonight?"

"Important business, as I said," he says with a grin, stepping into their sitting room, fit to burst with excitement. Where and how this friendship came about he isn't quite sure -- somewhere between watching Holmes crawl around on his knees and exchanging comments with Watson and then catching them in the act of... well, just any act. And now he met his fiancee through them, of all things.

Glancing at Mary, he lifts an eyebrow questioningly. "Shall we sit first?"

"If we're invited to stay," Mary said, looking between Holmes and Watson. "If we're not interrupting anything, of course. This isn't a bad time, I hope? We wouldn't want to intrude." Her expression was bright, eager, practically glowing. She wanted to see their reaction.

The look she gave Lestrade was ridiculously fond, ridiculously happy. "But it is quite important news, I think."

Holmes is right, of course. They're clearly engaged, and almost sickeningly happy about it. The upside to his and Watson's relationship being a secret is that he never has to look like this; while he enjoys being able to be open about his relationship, being able to hold Watson's hand if he wants or make references to it, he doesn't think he wants Lestrade or Mary for that matter to see Holmes look at Watson with that amount of love in his eyes. That's just far too private.

"There's always time for important news here," Holmes says magnanimously as he stands and gestures to the couch. "Please, be seated and tell us all about your engagement."

He realizes that maybe he's taking the wind out of their sails a bit, but that's just what Holmes does.

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes or apologise for Holmes, Watson closed the door to the sitting room and went to one of the chairs by the fire.

"Is this so?" He smiled, shaking his head a little. So much for Holmes's claim that this would be a normal conversation. It hadn't even begun and they were already skipping ahead. Not everyone was as used to it as Watson. "Congratulations are in order if it is."

Oh, blast -- the -- so-and-so. Lestrade eyes Holmes with a mixture of genuine frustration and annoyance and a touch -- just a touch, mind you -- of fondness. Of course that arrogant man would be able to tell; probably anyone on the street could tell, if Lestrade's honest with himself, but that still doesn't mean he's any less annoyed.

"Very clever, Mr. Holmes, but one of your less impressive deductions, I think. I can work out your reasoning easily enough." He sits and turns his mostly-but-not-totally serious glare from Holmes and softens it before he sets it on Watson.

"But yes, congratulations are in order. I believe we have you to thank for all this," he says, smiling.

Amused more than anything, Mary hid a small laugh behind one gloved hand. "As I wasn't lucky enough to have met Guy when I met you, we certainly have you to thank for introducing us."

Well, she certainly sensed no jealousy, no sore feelings from Watson. That was reassuring. She would have hated to be the wedge into their friendship.

Yes, I was only too happy to help distract you from my lover. Holmes bites his tongue and smiles, gesturing with his hand instead of voicing his thoughts. He's grumpy, he realizes, and he can't quite put his finger on why; it doesn't have solely to do with being interrupted from his pleasant evening with Watson. Though, granted, that is some of it.

"The introduction is the easy part. You did the rest." There, he can be polite, but he does shoot Lestrade a lazy smile.

"What do you think, Watson?" He turns his smile on him now, though he's half watching Mary too, because he can guess at what she's thinking easily enough. "Do you approve? I certainly have no complaints."

"Oh, but of course I do." Watson's smile was broad, warm. "How could I possibly fail to approve of so obviously happy a couple?"

That, and it had been convenient to find himself no longer a target for matchmaking. All the same, he was genuinely pleased. The pair of them were so happy they were practically glowing. It was all he could do to keep himself from turning a similarly besotted look on Holmes; romanticism was catching.

"I am pleased for you both. Have you made plans yet?"

He might roll his eyes a little at Holmes asking if Watson approves. He probably wouldn't have if it'd been anyone else, but Holmes had just plucked his nerves a little. He's allowed an eyeroll if he wants one. The annoyance fades just as quickly, though, as it usually does when Watson gives such warm smiles. These two are such a contrast that they still fascinate Lestrade, to a degree.

But now his attention is solely on Mary, and he turns a bright smile on her, reaching for her hand and linking their fingers together.

"We've got as far as deciding we're eloping. I haven't got the patience for much else," he says, with a little laugh. He realizes this is quick, that he's caught up in a bevvy of impractical emotions like love and infatuation and elation at having finally found someone that he could have all these emotions for -- but then everything swings back around to the practical. She just fits with him, so why wait? What would be the point, when they go together so seamlessly?

"It's... simplest that way," Mary said, rather thoughtfully. Not to mention that it would have been a small wedding party in any case. This was awfully fast, but... she couldn't find fault with it, despite the tiny flutter of fear in the bottom of her heart. She was eager for this, and very little of that was fear of continuing a life as a spinster; after all, Mary had been independent for quite some time. She squeezed Lestrade's fingers. There was a light blush on her cheeks, a flush of pleasure. "The Forresters are making arrangements for my replacement," she continued. "I will miss them, of course, but they're very happy for me."

Mary glanced over at Lestrade, thinking of something they had discussed. Lestrade didn't seem about to bring it up; being a modern sort of woman she took it upon herself to ask for herself. "Actually," she said, straightening in her seat, "there was something we wished to ask you. Would the pair of you consent to accompany us to the church to be our witnesses?"

Holmes's eyebrows lift in genuine surprise, and though it doesn't bloom to anything like a full reaction to a compliment, he feels the gratitude flood through him anyway. He keeps forgetting that somehow he and Lestrade have become friends. Wouldn't there be anyone better to accompany them? The Forresters themselves, surely; surely Lestrade has friends at the Yard. That he's being asked rather stuns him, and he flicks his gaze to Watson, suddenly rather self-conscious, and seeking some help here.

"I think we can handle that, don't you?" he says, though the lazy arrogance is gone.

Watson's smile managed to broaden even further, somehow. "It would be our pleasure," he said warmly. Oh, this was perfect. They couldn't have asked for a better result when they had introduced them. "Name the date and we shall be there."

He was faintly surprised to feel a certain sense of envy of Lestrade and Miss Morstan, if not for the missed opportunity to wed Mary himself, but for their opportunity to stand before a priest and be wedded. That was strange. He certainly sometimes did doubt he was doing something that was not deeply sinful, deeply wrong, but all the same that sort of vow... would have been nice.

Lestrade can see it, the gratitude in Holmes, because it's such an unusual thing to see in his face and he wears it strangely. Their reactions only verify to him that he'd been right in choosing them, not just for the pivotal role they'd played in helping him and Mary meet in the first place. He squeezes her hand again and smiles broadly, looking between Holmes and Watson.

"As soon as we figure out the date and time for ourselves, we'll do just that," he says with a small laugh, happy and bashful. "Thank you," he adds, looking down at his lap, and then at his and Mary's hands, joined together.

Also smiling, Mary glanced down at their hands together, and back up to Holmes and Watson, her own expression thankful. By now, though, something was beginning to nag at her as odd about this whole thing. Perhaps a little of it was the way Holmes glanced at Watson in that searching way, and perhaps some of it was the warm smile Watson had turned briefly upon Holmes in turn, but she suddenly had the strangest feeling that she and Lestrade were visiting with a married couple. It was that sort of atmosphere.

Which was plainly ridiculous, of course. They would likely have been horrified if they had any idea of the notion that had just entered her mind. Surely even if it were true (which it simply could not be), they would have better sense than to be so friendly with a police inspector?

It would, possibly, explain why Dr. Watson had been so distant and noncommital (if not unfriendly) when there had been an attempt to pair her with him.

But no. She had to stop thinking this, it was unseemly. Mary was sure she could feel a faint blush colour her cheeks, which was inconvenient.

What if it was true?

She had to assume it wasn't. It was safer that way.

"I do want to let the Forresters actually find a new governess before I leave them," she said, finding she was watching Holmes and Watson carefully now, "but I doubt that shall take long."

Watson's warmth is helpful to him in pulling himself out of this sudden flood of emotions. It's a good thing he doesn't have many friends, possibly, if being invited to watch their wedding is going to have this effect on him.

Now that Mary is not an obstacle to his and Watson's romance, Holmes is more able to appreciate how un-dreadful she is; it's a rare woman that earns his approval, and while his earlier opinions of her had been colored with his jealousy, he can objectively reflect now and see that she really wasn't all that bad.

"I certainly hope not. There's little worse than an unanswered job posting coming in the way of true love," he quips, flashing her a smile.

"It's considerate of you," Watson said. "I'm sure not all young ladies would be so concerned."

He was ridiculously excited about this prospect, truth be told, even if he suspected himself of living vicariously through Lestrade and Mary -- if he could not have a wedding, he would enjoy theirs (even just a small elopement) as much as it was proper for him to do so. And Holmes's resulting streak of romanticism was maddening, if only because it made him wistful that he could not reach over and take Holmes's hand, as Lestrade and Mary were free to do so. At the very least he was thinking of how soon he might be able to return to the very comfortable position they'd been in before their guests had arrived.

"It's very important to her not to inconvenience them," he says with only a somewhat dazed look at her, but he can't help being in love, alright. She is considerate, and charming, and lovely, and so what if he can't keep his feelings out of his expression. If there's anyone in the world he feels comfortable showing his feelings around, it's Holmes and Watson, that's for sure.

"Oh," he starts, turning back to Holmes and Watson, "perhaps you can give us some advice. We're torn on what we should do for our honeymoon. How was your trip to the Continent, again? Did you enjoy it?"

"Hush, Guy. You mustn't embarass me," Mary murmured, but her eyes twinkled. "And yes," she continued brightly. She turned her warm smile from Lestrade back to Holmes and Watson, looking between them expectantly. "We were considering just a quiet week at the seaside, but Guy mentioned the two of you went to the Continent recently, and it's a rather intriguing idea."

Some rebellious part of her mind wondered if it had been a romantic vacation. She tried to ignore it.

"I have always wanted to do more than just teach French and actually see France for myself."

Holmes can't help that his interest is piqued; that vacation had been very splendid, and France generally is at the top of his list of travel recommendations.

"A quiet week at the seaside sounds positively miserable," he drawls, a playful smirk on his lips. "By all means, travel to the Continent. France is worth seeing, Miss Morstan, particularly if you've an interest in the culture. Watson and I spent a few days in France before traveling to Italy," and here he transfers his gaze to Watson.

"It was quite an exhilarating experience," he says with a light smile. "And certainly far more interesting than a quiet week at the seaside," he scoffs, though he's smiling at Watson still.

'Exhilarating' was certainly one word for it. At least Watson could be assured that Lestrade and Miss Morstan were unlikely to encounter Indian snakes.

Watson returned Holmes's smile -- he couldn't have helped it for the world -- feeling strangely shy about it front of guests. "While there is something to be said for the seaside," he said, without taking his eyes off Holmes, "I did enjoy our brief stay in France, though my French is admittedly rather poor." He somehow managed to tear his gaze back to Mary, although he was strangely conscious of Holmes, still imagining Holmes's eyes on him. This was... ridiculous, and foolish, and unwise. "It's lovely country, plenty to entertain a young couple in love."

They ought to know, Lestrade thinks with a small smile of his own, though he's shooting the occasional look over at Mary because these two are not doing a very good job of being illegal homosexuals over here. If she's thinking anything contemptuous, it's not showing on her face, so he relaxes and gives her hand another squeeze.

"I'm not sure if I could handle sitting in one place for too long. Sounds a bit exotic to me, or maybe a bit boring; haven't been able to decide." He shoots Holmes a small smile. "I think these two are winning me over to the continental side."

"It is sounding more and more intriguing," Mary agreed. "And I suppose it's a special occasion, if anything is."

Look at these two. Granted, she didn't know Sherlock Holmes terribly well, but the impression she'd had of the man was not that he was the sort of person to turn looks like that on just anyone, friend or no. Her wild supposition was seeming... well, more and more likely. Did Lestrade have any notion? Surely they wouldn't be so careless in front of him if he didn't. Perhaps she could raise the idea with Guy later -- but if he did not know, she hated the idea of driving a wedge between friends, or endangering Mr Holmes and Dr Watson, who had been so kind.

She was certainly not offended, or disgusted by the idea. Just... puzzled, more than anything. She was not some naive waif, after all. She liked to think herself a modern woman. Still, it seemed she could not say anything about it, to anyone, which was... annoying.

"Where in France ought we to go, do you think?" She was staring at Holmes, just a little.

Oh, Lestrade and Mary are becoming quite the nuisance. If it were just Lestrade, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. He could at least be nearer to Watson, at least take his hand. His annoyance over their interrupted contact is quickly turning into simply desire to resume that contact, and it's a bit difficult to ignore.

And, too, is Mary's intent look. Holmes might be more concerned if she seemed upset; she merely seemed to have a gossipy sort of interest, and provided that she knows how to keep that to herself, then Holmes can't really be bothered to care. Particularly if she's to be Lestrade's wife. He doesn't really look for more in her face beyond that interest.

"Paris is a natural choice, though there are some lovely places near the sea if you had your heart set on that. I would suggest Paris, for the multitude of diversions, but then I much prefer the energy of a city."

Unable to stop it, his gaze drifts back to Watson, and the smile sneaks back onto his face, though more subdued this time.

The looks Holmes was giving him seemed positively dangerous to Watson. It warmed him utterly, but he couldn't say much for the wisdom of such looks in front of company. He was getting to be afraid to look back at Holmes; he didn't trust his own expression.

"I suppose it depends entirely on whether you'd prefer a quiet retreat or an exciting series of diversions for your honeymoon." He shifted, learning forward onto his knees a little. He was trying to distract himself from Holmes a little, and he was becoming aware of the keen way Mary was regarding them. He wasn't sure what to make of it.

Take care of those you call your own, and keep good company...

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