Chapter Text
“I suppose I can ask Mrs. Hudson…”
John absentmindedly set a cup of tea close to the edge of the kitchen table and Sherlock dragged a finger over to push the cup to safety.
“If you are going to ask her about the proper care of tea cups, then I agree.”
“What? Oh, sorry… I was thinking about Halloween. It’s coming up soon and I was just curious about what went on in the area. I always loved Halloween, but there wasn’t much in the way of costumes and candy in Afghanistan. We sometimes got a good horror film, though, and that made for bit of a nice film night. Just thought it would be fun to get out and enjoy myself this year, if there was fun to be had, that is.”
“I’m sure the streets will be littered with the usual crowd of hyperactive children grasping for yet more sugar to fuel their nonstop shrieking and overwrought dramatics, but you will be out with me, so we will both be spared that experience.”
“Out with you?”
“Try and keep up, John. We have several parties to attend, so you should plan on your entire evening being occupied.”
John’s face assumed that particular configuration that spoke of an awareness of a headache looming in his very near future.
“ ‘We?’ That’s a bit plural, isn’t it, Sherlock? Seeing as how you actually haven’t asked me if I want to attend any parties on Halloween.”
“Of course you do, John. You haven’t been able to pass a shop window that is unfortunately festooned with eye-searing orange and black decorations without slowing down to look. And, though you tried to hide it, extremely poorly I might add, you have watched that horrendous cartoon with the stupid boy sitting in the pumpkin patch at least three times in the past week. Your attendance at any Halloween party to which you are invited is clearly assured.”
“Hey! There’s no cause to call Linus stupid, so shut it. And I think the key word in your argument is ‘invited.’ I haven’t been invited to anything…”
“I’ve been invited, John, so, by extension, you are invited. Actually, your name was mentioned in the negotiations so that should count as a separate invitation extended to you personally, if your ego needs the reassurance.”
“My ego? Oh… I could take on that challenge and make a merry old day of it, but I have to get to work. And, I guess I have to find a costume – I assume these parties of yours are asking guests show up in costume?”
“Taken care of.”
And the first twinge of John’s headache made its debut appearance.
“Well that scares me. I am in no way comfortable with you choosing a Halloween costume for me, Sherlock.”
Sherlock’s surprise almost looked genuine, but John had been living in 221B long enough not to be fooled.
“And why not?”
“Do you have a pen and paper? I can make you a list. Or, I can take the shorter route of reminding you that you’re you and leave it at that.”
“I think I’m offended.”
“I think you’re not.”
“True, but if you can’t articulate a logical reason…”
“One – your sense of social appropriateness is non-existent and I would rather not be seen about town wearing a loincloth and a Tarzan wig. Two – your sense of humor would likely find me dressed as a zombie in a suit made of real body parts, not my own mind you, or in something ridiculous even by my own common standards that’d get me laughed off the street. Three – your brain operates at a level so far above the rest of us mere mortals that I’d could easily arrive at your parties and have to spend the entire evening explaining that I’m supposed to be some little-known 17th-century mathematician who discovered the equal sign or something.”
“That was Robert Recorde and it was 16th-century. In 1557 to be exact.”
“And I could go on.”
“Oh, but you did. Seriously, John, do you truly not trust me to pick out a respectable, flattering costume for you? Something you would enjoy wearing? I’m wounded.”
With a deep, familiar sigh, John knelt down next to Sherlock’s seated form and made sure the detective was looking directly into his eyes.
“I trust you with my life, Sherlock Holmes. I trust you to stand with me in the face of Armaggedon, to be at my side against all the demons of Hell. I do not, however, trust you as far as I can throw you to lift one finger to safeguard my dignity. Now, I have to go or I’ll be late.”
John tried to rise, but Sherlock reached out and wrapped his hands around John’s wrists to hold him in place.
“But how do you know that, John? Have you ever asked me to do it? Have you ever extracted a promise on this issue and found your trust betrayed? I think you are making me the blackguard based on facts not in evidence.”
As soon as the protest rose, John felt it fall flat back down his throat. The number of times his dignity had been trampled by the man in front of him was ridiculous, but it was true that he’d not specifically and seriously asked that his flatmate avoid making him look like a fool. He had definitely protested during the aftermath, but John could not remember a single time when he had pushed Sherlock to promise not to make him wear a jester’s cap. For any normal human being, obtaining a promise would not really be necessary, but, considering the person in question…
“Fine, yes… you’re right. Do you, Sherlock Holmes, world’s only consulting detective, hereby swear and promise that the Halloween costume you have selected for Dr. John Hamish Watson will in no way compromise his dignity, his masculinity or his sanity?”
“I do swear. Now, does this mean you’re going with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll go. I mean, you’ve never been interested in anything like parties before, so this could actually be fun.”
“Excellent. I look forward to it, also.”
____________
“Sherlock, what’s on your face?”
“Skin.”
“Simply hilarious. Seriously, what is growing on your face?”
“Might it be…hair.”
“You’re growing a beard. My brain doesn’t seem to be able to comprehend that right now, so I’ll tell you to go wash those crumbs off of your chin instead and remain comfortable in my self delusion.”
“Whatever makes you happy, John.”
“But, not that I believe it for one second, if you are growing a beard, is there a reason why such beard is being grown?”
“For my costume.”
The tiny smug smile on Sherlock’s face sparked a tremor of worry in John’s stomach that a lovely sip of tea did nothing to soothe.
“And may I know exactly what will be your costume?”
“Let me think. No.”
“Not everyone likes surprises, Sherlock. I happen to be a member of that ‘not everyone’ group.”
“That is a lie. I’ve gone through your wallet many times and have never found a membership card. “
“Nosy git. Give me a hint, at least.”
“I don’t think so. It is much more fun to watch you fret.”
“Old ladies with scraggly cats fret. I demonstrate due concern.”
“Semantics. You’ll find out soon enough, so put it out of your mind. Now, weren’t you going to do the laundry? Please, don’t let me keep you.”
“Pompous nosy git.”
“I value your conversation, John.”
__________
It’s Halloween. – SH
Very well done. What gave it away? – JW
Sarcasm is for little minds. Come home. – SH
I’m here for another hour. You know that. – JW
This is more important. Come home. – SH
Work = money = rent and groceries. Thank you Rob Recorde. – JW
Your costume is here. – SH
I’m leaving now. - JW