For col_bashermoran and toclafane_queen
A Russian, an Irishman, and an English expatriate walk into a club ...
Only Moriarty and Moran knew the true names of the three special guests that would be joining the larger party with them. He'd introduce Lucy to them as they came up on their own initiative. For now, it would be better if they slipped inside the Club and made their way without fuss or fanfare right. Said venue was not even in the tour book or entertainment rags and it never would as it would most likely self destruct should outsiders destroy what sociability that sociopaths and the like were capable of. No one ever spoke of it outside of the tight knit circle of societal misfits that moved around from continent to continent.
Let Mycroft have the Diogenes Club. Though he had the place scrutinized in every possible way should he want to sneak in one day and finally give the elder Holmes his due, the place lacked that certain something in his not so humble opinion. It had class and distinction, surely, but the strictness of silence didn't suit him. He liked the option of voice. Rather unnerving, but he he'd never admit that to anyone, he thought as a server put them at the bar station closest to the evening's dinner arrangements. Much like any extravagant place, even the bloody fixtures were worth a fortune. Nothing so crass as gold plated dinning ware, but close. Money was meant to be spent in some circumstances and this place definitely was the circumstance. Ordering both Lucy and himself a drink, he nodded to Moran, who was still close enough to where they stood to have a decent last minute talk before the evening took its course.
Only Moriarty and Moran knew the true names of the three special guests that would be joining the larger party with them. He'd introduce Lucy to them as they came up on their own initiative. For now, it would be better if they slipped inside the Club and made their way without fuss or fanfare right. Said venue was not even in the tour book or entertainment rags and it never would as it would most likely self destruct should outsiders destroy what sociability that sociopaths and the like were capable of. No one ever spoke of it outside of the tight knit circle of societal misfits that moved around from continent to continent.
Let Mycroft have the Diogenes Club. Though he had the place scrutinized in every possible way should he want to sneak in one day and finally give the elder Holmes his due, the place lacked that certain something in his not so humble opinion. It had class and distinction, surely, but the strictness of silence didn't suit him. He liked the option of voice. Rather unnerving, but he he'd never admit that to anyone, he thought as a server put them at the bar station closest to the evening's dinner arrangements. Much like any extravagant place, even the bloody fixtures were worth a fortune. Nothing so crass as gold plated dinning ware, but close. Money was meant to be spent in some circumstances and this place definitely was the circumstance. Ordering both Lucy and himself a drink, he nodded to Moran, who was still close enough to where they stood to have a decent last minute talk before the evening took its course.