A/N Hey My Lovelies!!! So -i-am-a-potato- requested this one!!! It's super short but kinda cute!! Hope you like it!! Enjoy<3
John Watson had seen many things in his life that left him speechless.
The birth of a child, the sunrise after a bad storm, Sherlock Holmes crying at a Disney cartoon. But nothing had ever stunned him as much as what he walked in on today.
It had been a long, frustrating day, but the sight he was staring at right now was doing wonders to erase the weight of the day.
Sherlock Holmes was wearing a dress.
Not just any dress either. This was a long, dark purple satin number that clung to his thin frame and made his pale skin look flawless. Sherlock was hunched over his microscope, focused on whatever data he had collected. It took John far too long to gather his wits.
"Sherlock?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you wearing a dress?"
"It's for a case."
"Is that your excuse for everything?"
"Hmm." John shook his head, grinning at the focused man at the table. He stepped closer, catching sight of what the detective was working on. There were various pallets of what looked like eye shadow scattered across the table, each color missing a small chunk.
"Are you testing the colors for something?"
"Yes. Trying to prove that the bruise Mrs. Carlston had on her face the night she killed her husband was faked."
"And you needed to wear a dress to prove that?"
"Yes." John nodded, knowing he wouldn't get much else from the detective. He picked up one of the pallets, rubbing his finger in the powder and transferring the color to the back of his hand.
"Did I ever tell you that I used to let Harry put makeup on me?" That got the detective's attention. "Late at night, after Dad passed out drunk and Mum had cried herself to sleep. Harry would be upset, so I would let her do my makeup." Sherlock was watching John intently, his experiment long since forgotten. It wasn't often that John would share stories of his past, the memories usually too painful to discuss. "I used to tell myself that I would only do it for her, to make her smile, but now," John shrugged, his face burning with a soft blush.
"What changed?" Sherlock asked, sounding timid and unsure, as though he was afraid of what John might say.
"You." John whispered, smiling at the brilliant man before him. Since Mary had left with the baby and John returned to Baker Street, something had changed between the pair. Soft touches were exchanged, less space was left between them on the sofa. They had even exchanged a few gentle kisses. No words were ever spoken towards defining their relationship, but John was okay with that.
Sherlock's eyes were filled with tears as he looked at John, the depth of what the older man had spoken hitting him like a wave.
"Sherlock?"
"Yes John?"
"Will you do my makeup for me? I'm feeling rather underdressed." Sherlock grinned and nodded, the joy in his expression filling John with warmth. He pulled out a bottle of wine and followed Sherlock into the sitting room, unable to resist the urge to pinch the firm arse of the Great Detective.
They wound up on the floor of the sitting room, surrounded by makeup pallets and empty wine bottles. They drank until they were nothing more than giggling messes on the floor, trying to snog, but unable to focus through the laughter.
Lestrade found them the next morning, passed out in each other's arms, Sherlock still wrapped in his dress and John painted to look like he was going to a party. He smiled and snapped a photo, sending it straight to Mycroft.
Looks like you owe me dinner Mr. Holmes – GL
Thank you, Detective Inspector – MH
They look happy – MH
I think they finally might be - GL
