It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

36 - Another Dance

A/N - Some more fancy outiftssssss...

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After Victor's accident, Sherlock didn't hesitate phoning Mycroft, informing him of the agent's 'unfortunate circumstance'. Because of how unbelievable the situation was, Mycroft even enquired if he, Sherlock Holmes, had anything to do with it.

He was offended by this accusation.

Of course, he had considered having something to do with it, what with the idea of drugging his tea and all, but the universe came to his aid instead. So, unless having the universe on your side qualified as 'having something to do with it', he found himself devoid of all guilt.

Mycroft had argued with Sherlock over him joining the mission instead but eventually Mycroft gave in. The detective had promise that he would work on a disguise which would allow him to not be recognised.

This meant he would have to sacrifice his curls for straightened, slicked back hair.

Mrs Hudson helped him with this, having bought some straighteners a couple of years back, intending them to be a present for someone until Sherlock deduced they wouldn't like them. She didn't complain though as it had appeared they had become useful in the end. By the time she was finished she cooed at the detective.

"Oh, Sherlock, look at you! It's so strange not seeing you with your little mop of curls." Mrs Hudson addressed him in a motherly way.

The detective wasn't keen on the classy look. He preferred some element of chaos in his life - the one constant being his unruly, dark locks. He frowned but accepted the scenario. At least he was able to look out for Elizabeth this way.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson." He smiled tightly at her

"No trouble, dear!"

Sherlock left Mrs H's apartment for upstairs. John was sat on the couch reading a newspaper. Admittedly, he was a little gutted that he had to miss out but he was also somewhat happy that Sherlock and Elizabeth would get to spend more time together.

"Well, John?"

The doctor looked up from his paper, stunned at Sherlock's new hairstyle, "Wow. Just - wow. You really do look like a new man."

"Do I still look like me though?"

"...Yes."

Sherlock sighed, "I didn't want to do this but I guess a fake moustache will have to do."

He went over to the bookcase, pulling out a small box with little bits and bobs in it. You never knew when you might need something to add to a disguise - especially a choice from several moustaches. John was perplexed at this.

"You have a box of mosutaches? Fake moustaches?"

"Doesn't everyone?" The detective joked lightly.

John snorted.

"Which one?" He held up two, one a little thinner than the other.

"Possibly the thicker one?"

He nodded. His eyes wandered the flat for a moment, as he pocketed both moustaches, "Elizabeth come out yet?"

"Nope. She's been busy at work in your room." John paused, "You could go and check on her."

"I could."

"Are you?"

"Maybe."

John smiled, "So you are?"