Sherlock scanned the ballroom in search of any sight of the criminal. No move had been made thus far, but the evening was not yet even half through. In the meantime, he also needed to find Molly. Their set was fast approaching, and he hadn't seen her since Miss Morstan whisked her off to the veranda. He wondered what they could be discussing, then dismissed the thought. Whatever it was, he was likely better off in his ignorance. Women, he scoffed internally.

At last, he located the two women, chatting merrily near the punch, sipping their drinks with perfect poise. Molly seemed at last to have mastered the nerves that had upset her earlier. He approved of the obvious friendship forming between the future Mrs. Watson and his long-time friend. Being both such unusual women, they would undoubtedly get along splendidly.

Sherlock wasted no more time in crossing over to them. Both women smiled at his approach, and he gave the proper bows to each of them. "Miss Hooper, I do hope you are rested enough for our dance."

"I am, thank you," she demurred, her face tinged pink.

The music drew to a close, and those dancers remaining moved to the appropriate positions, forming three circles with four couples each, while those preferring to sit and rest did so. Sherlock held his hand out to Molly, and they joined the other dancers in a series of small circles, four pairs in each. The music began, and the Master of Ceremonies called the Strasbourgeoise. Sherlock recalled with some humor the many lessons spent on this particular dance; it had been one of Molly's favorites, and she insisted on practicing it far more than the others. Glancing to his right, he noted the smile she attempted to smother, and felt one pulling at his lips, as well. No sign of nervousness now.

The music began, and the couples bowed to one another. Sherlock caught Molly's eye, and they shared a smile. "Are you enjoying your first ball, Miss Hooper?" he asked.

"Very much so, thank you, Mr. Holmes."

He took her hand, as well as that of the woman on his left, and they began the dance. "Might I suggest you place a pillow or two under your feet tonight? That will help lessen the pain."

Molly blushed furiously. "Mr. Holmes!"

The dance required them to separate here, and exchange partners with other pairs in the circle. When they returned to one another, her face was even redder. "It is highly inappropriate to discuss such a thing in public!"

"But you'll try it, regardless." It was not a question, he was certain she would.

"That is none of your concern," she muttered.

Sherlock chuckled as he turned her under his arm. "You know I can always ask again. We do live in the same house, you know."

"Yes, well, that is... different," she argued feebly.

He turned himself in time with the dance, very much enjoying this banter with Molly. It was one of the many things he enjoyed about her company.

"Really, Mr. Holmes," she spoke again, "I would never have dreamed of discussing such a thing with my other dance partners, and surely neither would you!"

Her words were a slap to his face. She had danced nearly every dance so far, and seemed very pleased to do so, if a bit over-tired, being unused to so much dancing. Nevertheless, her eyes had sparkled with every partner, and her smiles and overall appearance bewitched them all. A dark, unpleasant mood overtook him with these thoughts, and the retort escaped before he could tamp it down.

"But I am not like other dance partners, am I?"

Molly's eyes darted up to meet his, and all traces of her blush fled. She faltered over the next step, and he quickly righted her.

"Perhaps it would be best to continue the dance in silence, Mr. Holmes," she suggested coolly.

Sherlock felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. Perhaps he had gone too far. "If that is what you wish," he agreed, and complied. However, he watched her closely through the dance, even as she made every attempt to avoid his eye. She smiled at the other dancers, but it was forced. Her spirits had been effectively dampened, by none other than his own foolish self.

At the conclusion of the dance, they joined hands, and he escorted her to the table for supper. "I am sorry for my impertinence, Miss Hooper," he said with all sincerity. "Please forgive me."

She met his gaze, her eyes appearing to grow even wider than they already were (he had not known such a feat was possible). At last, her smile was once again directed toward him. "Oh, I never could stay angry with you, Sherlock," she whispered.

He grinned in reply. "I am very glad of it."

"Except on Tuesdays," she added with a saucy raise of her eyebrow.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, but was delighted by the return of their familiar banter. "I will change your mind yet, Miss Hooper. Be assured of that."

To Molly's great relief, she was able to remain seated for much of the second half of the evening. Lord Belmont engaged her in one of the more subdued sets, before returning to her seat, and there she would remain. She watched Mary and Dr. Watson share another dance together, delighted for both of her new friends, though also quite envious of the love they shared. What a blessing to be in love together, instead of in love alone.

Naturally, with this turn of her thoughts, her eyes found Sherlock, standing at the edge of the throng, his eyes scanning the room. Molly watched more closely, confused by the determined gaze. Was he looking for someone? Was he on a case? After a time, his eyes settled on something in particular, and narrowed in focus. She followed his gaze, and found none other than Miss Irene Adler, who met Sherlock's eyes with confidence.

Molly deflated as the scene unfolded before her. The pair made their way towards one another slowly, as if enacting a scene from a play, meeting in the centre. They spoke in hushed tones, very likely, and in the next moment, he was escorting her to the dance floor. A waltz began, and Molly felt ill at the sight of the man she loved whisking the beautiful, ethereal Miss Adler into his arms.

Unable to witness anymore of it, Molly stood, excused herself, and made her way to the veranda. Once outside, she found herself entirely alone. Her solitude allowed her to think more clearly. Sherlock had never been hers, had never made any declarations nor tendered any agreements. In truth, he treated her as he might a younger sister, though he had none by blood, and she had no reason to be so overset by his choice of Miss Adler. Truly, she was the most beautiful woman Molly had ever seen, and Sherlock must share that opinion. Her pains forgotten, or at least suppressed, Molly returned to the ballroom, determined to rid herself of her feelings for Sherlock Holmes.

Of course, Sherlock mused. How could he have missed it? The rose was the answer. The rose on the parchment, drawn at the bottom-right corner, which almost identically matched the one in Miss Adler's hair. The lady in question looked his way, and a smirk curved her painted lips. Sherlock stepped forward, all his attention bent on her, and she mimicked his movements until they met in the middle.

"I believe I have the waltz, Miss Adler," he fibbed.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes, I believe you do."

They moved to the dance floor and into position, the closeness of the dance allowing them to speak freely. "It was you," he said with confidence. "You sent the note."

She laughed quietly. "Clever man."

"Tell me what you know," he pressed, ignoring the compliment.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to speak here," she shrugged, appearing not the least bit perturbed by this admission. "Too many eyes and ears."

Sherlock cursed under his breath. "When and where can you speak?"

She smiled. "Call on me tomorrow, and perhaps you may find out."

He sighed in resignation; he had never called on a woman in his life. Well, needs must. "Very well."

"I'll be taking visitors after ten in the morning."

"You may count on me being among them."

"I look forward to it Mr. Holmes," she purred, gazing up at him through her lashes in what he surmised was meant to be a flirtation expression. He met her eyes, unmoved, and they spoke little else through the rest of the dance.

The waltz marked the conclusion of the ball, and the guests filed slowly out toward their carriages. Sherlock stayed behind, searching for Watson, and was not disappointed, as the very man he sought approached him a moment later.

"I don't know that I've ever seen you dance with anyone outside of your family," he commented with a grin. "Miss Adler certainly is lovely. I can see why she might catch your eye."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I did not dance with her out of romantic interest, Watson. Surely you know me better than that."

"Then why did you dance with her?"

He smirked at his friend and partner. "The rose."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The rose," he repeated. "Do you not remember? The rose, clearly drawn at the bottom of the note, announcing that a move would be made tonight, at this very ball?"

Watson blinked twice. "Er, yes. What of it?"

"Miss Adler wore an identical flower in her hair."

His friend's eyes widened in understanding. "Ah. Then… she is our criminal?"

"Perhaps," he shrugged. "Or perhaps she is an informant. In any case, I will be calling on her tomorrow in order to glean as much information as possible."

"Calling on her?" he echoed. "First a dance, then a house call?"

"For God's sake, Watson," Sherlock grumbled, "do get a hold of yourself. She is no conquest or prospective bride. She is merely a tool, a chess piece." He smiled to himself. "And the game is on!"

It was nearly three in the morning when they departed, and Molly had never been so thoroughly exhausted in her life. She felt not only physically fatigued, but emotionally, as she continued to see Sherlock and Miss Adler dancing behind closed eyes. The scene taunted her, and even with a decision made to fall out of love with him, the actual act would take much time and effort. Due to these circumstances, she was especially relieved that he would return home separately, just as he had arrived, and she would not have to face him until morning.

"Well, my dear," Violet interrupted her thoughts. "How did you enjoy your first ball?"

Despite her inner turmoil, Molly could not bear to think of revealing the state of her thoughts to her guardian and surrogate mother. She had gone to such trouble to sponsor this season. With as much cheer as she could muster, and grateful for the dark that hid her saddened expression, she replied, "It was magnificent."

"I am delighted to hear it. You were quite the spectacle tonight! Why, I've not seen any woman so admired at her first ball since Miss Adler's own presentation!"

Molly winced at the mention of her name, thanking God again for the darkness. "I can well imagine. She is a very beautiful woman."

"Beautiful indeed, but… well, never mind an old matron's opinions," she dismissed herself. "No doubt you are ready to slip off to bed and rest your weary feet."

"Yes," she said, her memory darting back to her dance with Sherlock. His suggestion was, in fact, one she would follow, and she did not doubt it would prove most helpful.

Few words were exchanged for the remainder of the ride back to Belmont Hall, for which Molly was immeasurably grateful. Her mind and body were so very weary, she almost doubted she would make the journey to her bed! When they arrived, she half expected to see Sherlock waiting at the entrance, bent on continuing the impertinent conversation from before. Had it not been for the event which transpired shortly thereafter, she might have obliged him with good humor and quick repartee. Alas, he was nowhere to be seen, and Molly returned to her room without interruption.

Penny seemed to sense her lady's reluctance to speak of the ball, and remained silent as she helped her undress. Molly thanked her, and received a smile and curtsy, but still no words, from her faithful maid, before she scurried out of the room. She climbed into bed with a deep, discontented sigh, and after snuffing the candle beside her bed, fell into a fitful slumber, filled with unhappy dreams of Sherlock and Miss Adler's shared dance.

Poor Molly! Kind of a short chapter, but I didn't have much else to add to the evening without it feeling stretched and dull. But hey, two chapters in one day! Hope you've enjoyed!