When John officially woke up he made one notice, that he had suddenly, somehow, found a pillow. But not until he rolled over did he realize that 'pillow' smelled like cheap cologne and hay. John's eyes flew open and he scrambled to his knees, feeling like he had just awoken from a drunken night, if he ever actually did drink. Sherlock was lying flat on his back, his eyes just starting to open groggily muttering words unheard.
"Good morning." Sherlock decided after a little bit of blinking and looking around.
"Okay, first off what the heck?" John asked.
"What the heck what?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh I don't know, the fact that A. You're not in your little hut, B. I was using you as a bloody human pillow!" John demanded.
"Aw, I thought it was cute." Sherlock admitted, laughing a little bit at John's ignorance.
"It's not cute, it's weird!" John pointed out.
"Be that as it may, you're the one that was snuggling up to me." Sherlock defended, sitting up onto his elbows and blowing the hair out of his eyes the best he could. John suddenly remembered what Greg had told him the previous night, and nothing seemed to improve after that.
"So you actually carried me home, from the bar?" John asked.
"You're not nearly as heavy as all those groceries." Sherlock agreed.
"Well, thanks, I guess." John muttered. "I can honestly say no one has ever told me that." Sherlock just laughed, as if this were all some sort of cute joke they had shared, just one John hardly remembered because he slept through it.
"Big day today huh?" Sherlock asked. It took John a moment to process what exactly he was talking about, but then he remembered the masquerade ball and all that.
"Oh ya, you might just end up with Irene after all." John laughed, but he knew now why it wasn't funny. Sherlock had no interest in Irene, not only because she was a stuck up annoying rich girl, but just that, she was a girl, and obviously that didn't fit Sherlock's type.
"Well I best be off, they'll wondering where I am, and they'll be needing all the help they can get." Sherlock decided, heaving himself to his feet and brushing off the strands of hay still clinging to his clothing.
"So when should I get down there?" John asked.
"Around six or so, I'll probably just get dressed in there; you don't need me to escort you. Just sneak in with the rest of the guests, and if you're questioned, which you won't be by the way, tell them you're with me." Sherlock decided, jumping down the ladder. "And you should make yours selves some breakfast as well, unless you forgot how to do that." he called up.
"Alright, you have fun with whatever the heck you've got to do." John agreed, but was only answered by the slamming of the door. Joh didn't know if he was expected to sneak down and eat in Sherlock's hut or kill a pig in this very barn, but he didn't have time to focus on that now. John let his head fall back in the hay, had he really been carried all the way here? What he needed right now was proof that Sherlock had no interest in him, which would be true of course, it wouldn't make sense if Sherlock liked him. First of all they've known each other for a whole week, and second f all they were just friends. Sherlock never gazed at him or anything, just because someone was gay doesn't mean they go around kissing every man in sight, they were civilized. The situation would be exactly the same if Sherlock was a girl, no romantic feelings, but they could be together if they did. And would John even have feelings for Sherlock, if the opportunity presented itself? No, of course not, once again, they were only friends, and there were the thoughts that made even friendship seem unnaturally romantic. So John pulled himself to his feet, groaning as he did, and stretched his now aching muscles. When John went down the ladder to check if the coast was clear he had to duck away from the window as quickly as possible. Mrs. Hudson and what he assumed was the other maid were out in the garden, pruning the bushes, weeding the garden, throwing stones into a pile, re-mulching, all this stuff to get the garden ready for the visitors.
"And then I told Carol that if she wanted to get the waitress back she had to hurry up, because the steak would only get colder." Mrs. Hudson said, finishing off what John could guess was a pointless story.
"In the end we got a full refund because Ethel's cake was gooey in the middle, but I'll tell you this, I will never go back to that restaurant again." John groaned, creeping back up the ladder and sitting there without both breakfast and lunch. He hoped he'd be able to sneak some dinner in with the oeuvres they made for the ball. He spent the entire day hidden in the barn, not daring to get up and walk around, stuck in his own mind in this same barn for ages. The same thoughts came around, the mark on his chest, his home, this angel, Irene, and the most prominent, Sherlock's crushes. Even though John knew he shouldn't be judging him, whenever he thought of that boy now he saw him snogging another boy on some bar counter. It felt like something you should automatically tell someone before you become barn mates really, not that it matter. John supposed he didn't have to warn Sherlock he was straight before camping out in his barn really. Victor, who was this Victor, and was he really one of the first killed in this awful plague? Poor Sherlock, his entire past was a spiral of death and sadness wherever he went. And John would  be adding to that if he did indeed find a way out of here, Sherlock would be left once again without anyone to his name. Poor Sherlock.

When six o'clock rolled around John got dressed in the outfit Sherlock had given him, it fit extremely well, as if it had been made just for him, for once the pants didn't cover his entire foot, like most of his own jeans did. He went down the ladder and checked his reflection in the water, fixing his hair the best he could with his hands with full knowledge that he was extremely rough around the edges. His hair hadn't been trimmed in awhile, he hadn't shaved, and the last time he brushed his teeth felt like Roman times, which, evidently, wasn't that far behind them. When John decided that he looked presentable enough he put the black mask on, feeling a bit Phantom of the Opera like, but he thought he looked rather good in a mysterious 'who is that hobo' sort of way. John snuck out the barn door, joining in the crowd of rich people crowding into the house, all in their big dresses and black suits, coming out of their carriages like swarms. The entire driveway was light with oil lamps hanging form posts and trees, and there were candles in a sort of ring around the entrance, which John thought was an extreme fire hazard. Hemixed into the crowd, and as Sherlock had promised, he had no trouble getting inside the house. The problem now was finding Sherlock himself, who was probably mixed in somewhere. The masks only added to the problem really. The crowd lead to a large ballroom, with glass domed windows and golden banisters, filled with people of all kinds all in different colored ball gowns. John looked around desperately, a bit intimidated by all the rich people, but was immediately taken by the snack table, where one little meatball probably cost all the money he had. So he took a handful, walking around with the delicious food and scanning the crowd for Sherlock. Surely they couldn't make him work throughout could they? When he was starting to make his first loop around the ballroom the band started up, instruments of all kinds joining together to make a lovely sounding song. The people fled into the ball room with their partners, swaying and swinging to the music, smiles all around, so this was what a rich party was like apparently. John was able to spot Irene, over by the corner, swarmed with boys, all trying to ask her to dance. John even saw Greg in the mix, stepping on some other guy's foot to get closer. John just rolled his eyes because the minute she opened her mouth they'd flee. Sherlock was nowhere to be found, which kind of worried John, but also took the some weight off of both their shoulders. If John couldn't find him then Irene certainly wouldn't be able to, and if Irene wouldn't be able to maybe he could avoid proposals, if one was even coming.
"Hi John!" said a happy voice next to him. He turned suddenly, almost running straight into someone wearing a red mask, and it took a minute to realize itwas Mary, the tailor.
"Oh hi Mary." He said, happy to see a familiar face in the mess of rich people.
"I see your clothes hold up right?" she asked, casting a look to the recently hemmed outfit he was wearing.
"Ya, fit fine, which is a shock because Sherlock is taller than the Empire State." John laughed.
"The...what?" Mary asked, cocking her head slightly in confusion. John realized just how pretty she was now that she was out of her work uniform. Instead of a dull grey dress she was wearing a feathered white gown, and her once hidden blonde hair was partially braided over her shoulder, lose strands curling out over her forehead.
"Never mind." John muttered. He decided against scaring yet another commoner with his story, he could barely believe it, so how could these people come to terms? Mary nodded, crossing her arms and looking into the dance floor. John felt the urge to ask her to dance, not only because she was nice and pretty and all that but because she was staring almost longingly at the dancers, as if she had been looking forward to the opportunity for a while.
"Quite a party." She observed.
"You can count on these rich people to throw one, especially when Irene is involved."
"I heard about her, awful girl according to Sherlock, do you two know each other?" she asked.
"God no, well, I've heard her, but Sherlock complains about her constantly. According to him she's a no good flirt, rolling in so much money that she doesn't see past her own words." John shrugged.
"Awful." Mary agreed.
"So, uh, care to dance?" John asked, shrugging. But Mary's face lit up with a smile that must have raised the mood of the whole room.
"Of course!" she exclaimed, leading him out to the dance floor in a hurry, asif she had been waiting for him to ask. John had to admit; he'd never danced with a girl before, or danced at all. School dances were mostly something he avoided at all costs, and if he did go he would play basketball in the gym with the rest of the normal guys. Thankfully Mary seemed to know what she was doing, and it wasn't a step by step loser thing you see in the movies. It was fastpaced and he was more the anchor than anything, she spun around in his arms and he just moved along with her. Mary was obviously having the time of her life, her smile never wavering but just growing progressively larger as the night led on. John smiled right back, knowing that no one back home would believe them if he told them about this night, just because of the fact he was able to dance with such a beautiful girl. The music paused for only a short minute, letting the dancers catch their breath and collect themselves a bit. Mary kept hold to John's now sweaty hand, which he definitely noticed but didn't want to point out.
"That's quite fun." Mary decided with a guilty laugh, as if she had done something wrong by enjoying herself.
"I've never really danced before." John admitted.
"Well you're plenty good at it, and I haven't had that much experience either." Mary assured. She flipped her golden hair over her shoulder once more, as if it were bugging her as it flopped against her back. But before they could get another word in the band started up once more, announcing that it was some type of dance, John didn't know what it was and barely made out what they had said, but he just joined the once again swarming crowd. After a couple of minutes though, Mary let go of his hand and moved on to another man, right next to John, and before he could start thinking just how rude that was he realized the entire room had shifted, it was a switch partner type dance, and another, shorted brunet was thrust into his arms. He really had no idea who this girl was, but it wasn't like he was complaining, she'd be on her way in a good three minutes. The dance was extremely hectic, people moving to and from, but John was able to somehow keep up, it was as simple as dancing when someone was with you. Towards the end of the song, however, a reasonably attractive red head was making his way to him, just about to come, when she was pretty much elbowed out of the way by a very tall boy in a white suit and mask.