"You're in my stars you know
Don't need no crystal ball to tell me so
Whispering in the air
Hoping that my words find you somewhere
Even when I close my eyes
I'll never recreate the Time that flies
The consequence is hanging there
The sky will fall but I don't care

Meet me beneath my balcony and say
No one but you could ever fill my night
Be the sunlight in my every day
Underneath my balcony I'll say
No one but you could ever fill my night
Be the sunlight in my every day

Your love is haunting me
And all I want is more to set me free
Whispering in the air
Hoping that my words find you somewhere
Do you hear me call your name
I know we will never be the same
The consequence is hanging there
The sky will fall but I don't care..."

Juliet- Emilie Autumn

Running in earnest through the hedges, he knew his quarry would soon be caught. He could almost hear the rushed thoughts of light terror running through the cold evening air.

"I will get you yet…Do not believe you have out foxed me. I know these gardens like the back of my hands John Hamish!"

"I cannot believe that I have allowed you to talk me into going to my parents Masquerade," Sherlock whined, "Why is it that you would want to go in the first place?"

"I don't know Sherlock, why did you want to be a pirate when you grew up?" The doctor laughed, "Because the idea is exhilarating. That is why." John smiled happily leaning into his lovers warm body. "Besides, I figured you would love the anticipation involved. We are going to be separated to different area's of the manor so we will have to use deduction to find one another again."

Given that slant, the idea did begin to seem intriguing. His mummy had sent all the invitations to John since he never answered any of his post. She had even begun to address them strictly to Hamish, the prat. Sherlock was very much amused by the relationship that had bloomed between his husband and his parents, especially the conspiratorial one that cropped up between Mummy and he.

"I'm just pleased that the men do not have to wear the wigs really. Being in full eighteenth century regalia will be quite interesting; I wonder how long it will take me to seduce you out of your stays and garters my courtesan…" he practically purred into his lover's ear.

"Want to make this a game of courtly love, do we Hamish? I must warn you, I will win." Relaxing into his lover's embrace further allowing John to have more access to his ear and neck. "I will be able to pick you out and woo you within the first half hour. Then I will tease you mercilessly until you beg for me to take you somewhere more secluded."

"Thirty minutes? Well there are several variables I suppose. I can see how that might slow you down."

The last Saturday in October was bright, but chilled. The family had extended the invitation to include an extended weekend for both of their boys. They knew it was the only way to be able to spend quality time Sherlock and John, as they tended to be frenetically busy. Mycroft stopped by once every couple of weeks with new tales of his younger brother's heroism, sometimes Gregory was able to join him. It was wonderful to have them all together every great once in awhile.

"So what are my two young men doing to entertain themselves until the festivities tonight?" Jacqueline Holmes queried, "Has John seen the gardens since the fall planting?"

"No, mum. I am going to give him a full tour later in preparation for the ball tonight; I'd hate for him to get lost."

"And why ever would he choose to lose himself one wonders?" She retorted jovially. Linking hands with her husband, she continued, "I remember when your father and I used to get 'lost' conveniently at times as well."

Siger raised his beautiful wife's hand and brushed it with his lips. "I always found you though dearest. Always will." Looking back towards the four younger men he gave them a mischievous look, "Now I want all of you to behave tonight. No motley behavior, at least until most of the guests are gone. Then you can play 'Shining Knight' all you want."

"Ah, but that is the military man you are coming through. Sherlock learned quite a veritable of tactics he uses even today from you. Also explains his weakness for our doctor." Jacqueline laugh was effervescent.

Standing she went to take her leave of the table. "Now John, please make sure that you come by for your finery close to your allotted time. If you would like, you may stay in my wing as Sherlock will not be allowed anywhere near you to 'sneak' an impression. Then, you can join me for tea."

"Yes, mum. I would enjoy that immensely." John genuinely liked this woman, but how could he not. Sherlock had all of her grace and much of her beauty.

"Violet, John Hamish, call me Violet. You may be my child, but you may still use my family name."

Sherlock and John whiled through his mother's gardens that early afternoon. They had a hamper set up for them under the waning trellised rose garden. It was one of Sherlock's favorite spots. It had been slowly been being filled in with looser less formal garden arrangements of lobelia, goldenrod, and anemone. Vibrant, but cottage in feel.

"So, Hamish, you ready for this evenings festivities?" How Sherlock loved to tease this man, "You do know I will have you in this spot right here tonight under the stars."

"How do you know it will not be I who does the taking lover, I am quite persuasive," John quipped. "And, as your mum pointed out, I am a military man. Covert-ops and all. I did invade Afghanistan remember?"

"Because beloved, I was raised here. I also will have you running because I feel like a chase tonight. You will be thrilled and terrified for me to catch you. I am sorry to say that in this situation, you are slightly undermined."

"We shall see Sherlock, we shall see."

Later that evening, John looked at himself in the expansive Cheval mirror. He was transformed into a proper Englishman with clothing bespoke for him. Beautiful emerald brocade with black velvet trim that matched his breeches. Cream linen shirt with plenty of fuss, black brocade vest. Onyx inlaid gold links, buttons; buckles on his shoes to match. Soft hose the same cream as his shirt. Majestic black tricorn hat. His mask was a grotesque. Cream inlaid with green and black crystals set off by the gold filigree.

"Priceless," came the whisper from the hall. "I didn't mean to interrupt John, I was just wondering if you could escort me in a few moments," Jacqueline requested. "I need to have you come by my chambers quickly though, we need our family photographer to memorialize this. I have just finished our shoot with Siger and the boys. We will be doing yours tomorrow, all of you." With laughter in her voice she added, "So do not ruin your clothing tonight or I will be very put out!"

Their laughter rang down her halls to catch up with the other four Holmes men. "Well mummy is entertained. Do you really think it will take that long for you to figure out which frock John is in Shirley?"

"No, My, I do not think it will take that long, but I want him to work himself up. You must understand the anticipation is half of the fun of the chase." Sherlock sighed, "I just wish I would have gotten to see the look on his face the first time he saw himself in the mirror. Did I tell you this is the first Masque he's ever been to?"

The debauched unhinged giggle ghosted over the hedges, not that far from where he was. He knew he was being herded, but could do nothing about it.

Damn his lover.

He was better at this than John had first suspected. Crouched, he sprung again heading toward the rose garden. If he could make it there before his lover, maybe he stood a chance of surprise. Maybe he could actually get out of the garden and force Sherlock's hand in their rooms instead.

Swiftly sprinting, he was thankful for the jewel tones he was wearing. Helped him blend a bit. Sherlock was in his signature multi-tonal deep blues that he favored. He didn't need to see the face beneath the mask to know. John had spotted him only two hours ago.

He was standing by one of the halls pillars discussing one of their recent cases when he felt the hairs on his neck prickle evilly. Looking around as casually as possible, he saw him across the room.

Knew he had been caught. Set him instantly on edge. His lover had not let go of his eyes, demanding to be seen. Gliding up, he had not said a word, only offered his hand and pulled the doctor out on to the floor into the waltz. He never dropped his gaze. Even when Sherlock began purposely brushing him during the dance exchanges. A brush of the hip, wayward touch of his fingers.

'Two could play this game,' John thought. He very quickly learned how wrong he was.

During the turns, a caress, when it necessitated touching more force was applied. A stroke to the arm at a hand off, gripping of a hip before just a swiftly releasing. Sherlock worked his husband into a minor frenzy he didn't think possible, especially with the extra layers of the proper dress. After the last round, his husband escorted him to the cool open terrace, found a darkened corner, and ravaged his mouth. Sherlock commanded his husband's body; he was its master. Just as swiftly, Sherlock collected himself and led them back out on the floor for another round.

Oh sweet Jesus, he was not going to last through the night.

Finally he broke away by sheer chance. This dance had required exchanges of partners, and he had been closest to the garden doors. In hind sight, Sherlock had probably known and positioned in such a way to allow him to escape. That made this even more maddening. He turned, beautifully and went the opposite way and exited the room hugging the shadows. He knew at most he would get a five minute lead as Sherlock was to gracious to not finish the current dance.

So he fled into the night, like a courtesan who had been out maneuvered and knew it was time to pay the price the Lord of the manor demanded. He was well and proper chuffed.


Thrilled and hunted.

By his husband in a moonlit garden.

In period garb.

This hit so many unknown desires in John he felt he would explode. So run he did, alighting from the greenhouse to the hedges. That's when the chase began in earnest. John knew that Sherlock had been tracking him. He could feel the heat of eyes upon him, but never sighted his lover.

"John Hamish!" Sherlock called, "I am coming to claim you! Quake with fear!" Then all at once, maniacal, unhinged glee.

Making the sprint to the arbor had been easy, he was resting for a moment, watching for movement outside of the trellised area.

He never heard a thing.

All at once he was in long forceful arms, wrapped closely with only breath between him and his husband. Then Sherlock claimed that as well. Set him instantly on fire. John couldn't understand how he hadn't combusted internally there was so much passion being driven into him. So much desire. His lover was brutal. Ripping off his hat and throwing it to the wind Sherlock entwined his fingers in John's hair and pulled hard yanking to expose his husbands throat. Raking his Adam's apple with his teeth he settled just to the left and forced a lovely bloom to appear marking John.

"Quake love... you left me to wait to long," Sherlock continued assaulting him. Pulling, untucking his shirt, flying the enclosures free of his vest rapidly, unlacing John's breeches. He was a whirlwind. Trying to sooth with words while he ravaged his beloved, "I can not stand it, you are too lovely tonight." Pushing his shirt from navel immediately to his throat and holding it there pinning it and John with his forearm against the trellis. Biting, sucking, tasting the apprehension, terror, exhilaration on his love. "So fine, Hamish, so wonderful."

Roughly undoing his own stays, he looked at John, greed in his eyes. Using his other hand, he slowly reached into his pocket and smiled lasciviously pulling out a packet of lubrication. Kissing John deeply then a scant inch away from his mouth he took the corner of the packet and tore it open, never breaking his hold or his gaze. "Breeches off now," is all he said as he back away enough to prep himself.

John undid the stays on his knees and dropped them to the ground, kicking them to the side. Before he could look back up his lover had once again captured him, yanking one of his knees up to his waist to give him more access to John two fingers instantly entering him working him pushing him to open. All he could do was cry out. Sherlock instantly silenced him with his mouth, continuing the barrage.

Dipping, he roughly grabbed his beloved and hitched him up high on the trellis wall, positioning himself his head just starting to penetrate John. "Hamish," His husband whispered it like a prayer and then took his mouth and drove into him. Flying completely unhinged, he drove deep into his love. Breaking the kiss, he moved to the other side of John's neck biting while brutally driving them to completion. "I fucking cannot stand how beautiful you are tonight," Sherlock heatedly panted. Holding John by his hips he pumped him until the sensation was too much, to bright. "I'm going to make you come with me Hamish, watch you fly to bits right before my eyes." He moved them from the wall to the blanket he had lain out in preparation. Cradling his husbands hip, he hitched and slammed their bodies together causing just enough friction to cause John to explode. Raising back, he took his beloved by the hand and forcing John to climax half a stroke before him.

"Oh, love, that's it, come for me."