Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Eighteen

The Best Man was a role. A responsibility. It was a title Sherlock never expected to be appointed, but it was one he wanted to make sure he did right. Since John had asked him, he had researched diligently; The best man must assist the groom in choosing the suits. The best man must be aware of who the ushers are and their duties. The best man must prepare a speech. The best man must take care of the rings. The best man must organise a stag do.

A stag do. Sherlock sighed at the prospect. He sat at his table with a notebook, pen poised between his finger and thumb, but nothing came. He pushed the pad and pen to one side and pulled his laptop close, searching: 'how to organise a stag do'. He clicked the first link and read carefully:

'Choose a date that's suitable for the groom and guests.' He picked up his phone and called John.

"John, when is Mary's hen party?" He asked immediately.

"Hello to you too, Sherlock. She's having it next Saturday," John replied.

"Okay, so you'll be free that day since she's unavailable. Great, save the date; it will be your stag do."

"Oh, oka- hang on... wh–"

Sherlock ended the call and placed his phone back on the table. Choose a date – check.

He returned to his laptop and scrolled down the list. 'Personalise the stag do to the groom.' He clicked on the list of examples and scanned them, discounting each suggestion until one caught his eye. 'A pub crawl around places with significance to the groom.' Brilliant, he thought, pulling out a map of London that was scattered with red ink crosses. Each one symbolising a place where they had found a dead body. It didn't take him long to locate a pub near each cross on the map. He organised them into an order they could travel through, writing the list in his notebook. Check.

'Invite all of the groom's closest friends and relatives.' He stood up and turned to face the mirror.

"Would you like to attend John's stag night?" He asked his reflection. "Yes," he replied to himself before sitting back down. Invite guests – Check.

'Allow the groom to let loose and get drunk, but make sure you look after him.' Easy, he thought, as he walked to the kitchen. He bent down and fished through the cupboard under the sink before pulling out two tall, thin chemistry beakers. He sniffed them, trying to decipher what chemical they last contained. It smelled noxious – possibly poisonous.

"Best to give them a rinse," he said to himself.

III

The Saturday of Mary's hen do finally arrived. Mrs Hudson stood in the doorway with Vaughan on her hip. She was wearing an apron over her clothes, her wrinkled cheeks lightly rouged with her favourite blush. She had been to many hen parties over the years, she told Margaux, none of them ever ended well. So for this one she didn't mind babysitting instead. In fact, she was excited to spend her night with him. They waved Margaux off as she climbed into a taxi before going back inside to start their quiet night together.

Margaux hurried out of the cab and into the restaurant. The host showed her to the large table at the back where Mary and her friends sat laughing over wine. The table had been reserved – decorated in silver balloons and glittery confetti. Mary had been dressed in a bright pink 'bride to be' sash and a puffy white veil. She saw Margaux walking towards them and pointed to her ridiculous veil with a laugh. Margaux laughed too as she approached the table and leaned over, greeting Mary with a kiss on the cheek.

"Everyone, this is Margaux," said Mary.

"Are you the murder detective?" said one of her friends.