Just a little Halloween tidbit for you all, because, A) I got bored and B) I like saying 'tidbit'

Disclaimer: No own-diddly-ownsies

Sherlock hated Halloween. It was just a fact of life, like the sky being blue or grass being green. He loathed it. It wasn't that he was scared. Oh no, if you had met Sherlock Holmes, you would know Halloween would never scare him. In fact, Sherlock Holmes found scary stories interesting. He simply loved the idea of the dead coming back to life, answering all the niggling little questions about life and death, taking vengeance on those who wronged them from beyond the grave...

It wasn't even the children. Contrary to popular belief (John… Donovan… Lestrade…) Sherlock actually liked small children. When they dressed up in their little costumes he found it… (Not cute. Sherlock didn't like cute things) amusing. He liked giving joy to faces, seeing them light up as he handed them sweets, as opposed to stealing happiness and the dull lifeless eyes in the morgue. It was a nice change…

Sherlock has an insatiable sweet tooth. Almost as insatiable as his mind. John remembers last year, he had to rush to the shops before the onslaught of tiny ghouls because Sherlock had eaten their ENTIRE supply (which included 5 packs of skittles. The big packets. John was devastated.)

"Sherlock, seriously, stop eating all of the sugar! It's for the children"
John had said

"look at all of the catalogues John! The stores are full of sweets! Unfortunately for the children, I've already laid claim on these ones. So we'll have to get more!"

'We' obviously meaning John. And by the manic darting of Sherlock's eyes, John wasn't too sure he'd want to see a sugar-high Sherlock running around in a Shopping Centre…

No, Sherlock hated Halloween because Sherlock hated pumpkins. He hated the sickly orange colour, its horrible sweet/savoury taste. And he hated, hated, HATED Jack-o-lanterns. They were the one thing that annoyed Sherlock more than ignorance. And Anderson. Okay, maybe not Anderson. They populated the streets like rats, the vermin of vegetables, with crudely carved faces as if made by serial killers.

Then this year the unthinkable happened. Coming back from one of his Halloweenly sugar runs (John had refused to go) he found one of them on his doorstep. Death staring the pumpkin as he passed, Sherlock entered 221B

"John! What is this!"

John looked up from his work on the kitchen table


"That thing on the doorstep!"

"What thing?"

"The pumpkin" Sherlock said the word as if it were a swear

"Oh, yeah, his name's Steve"

"You named it?"

"Yes." John answered simply

"Why would you name it?" his voice had risen a few octaves and John thought he might be going into hysterics

"Look, Sherlock, calm down…" John started, but Sherlock was silent, staring at Johns work on the table.

"It's on the table." He whispered

Slowly and with purpose, Sherlock strode over to the table at which John sat and picked John's unfinished jack-o-lantern.

"Sherlock… what are you…"

Sherlock casually walked over to the window, opened it and casually threw the pumpkin out. It landed with a kind of wet crunch.

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed

"I. Don't. Like. Pumpkins."

Was all Sherlock said

Happy Halloween everybody!