By nine the following morning they were in a taxi heading for the Yard. Both were, unsurprisingly, in a good mood; Sherlock was subtle about it, humming to himself occasionally and gazing dreamily out the window, while John just couldn't stop grinning.
They'd woken about half an hour before the alarm went off, and had spent the intervening time with their arms locked around one another, rutting lazily together until they came. A shared shower and some breakfast completed John's elated mood, to the point that, while he was eating his toast, he got the bra and a pillow and gave Sherlock a quick masterclass in undoing bras one-handed. Naturally Sherlock picked it up quickly, and John now had a half-formed, hopefully unrealistic idea of what might happen should Donovan get too close today. Kirsty had phoned and they'd both had a chat with her, telling her about how it all worked out. Sherlock took a moment to boast about having had sex; he seemed quite pleased with himself. When he'd finally deigned to pass the phone (John's) to John, Kirsty congratulated him.
John felt surprisingly normal on the walk up to Lestrade's office. It felt like the people around him should be able to tell that...well, that things had changed. But nothing was different; nobody looked twice at them. Except for a few people giving Sherlock glares, but that was par for the course.
As they walked across the open plan office to the corner that housed Lestrade, it occured to John how quiet the place was. Of course, it was Sunday morning, so the department would naturally be less populated than it was during the week. But the relative hush did allow him to hear something that he really hadn't expected. From somewhere nearby came the sound of Algernon Garvin's voice. He glanced at Sherlock and saw that he'd heard it too.
"Shall we go and say hello to dear Algie?"
"No. No Sherlock, leave the poor bugger alone."
Sherlock smirked, and John braced himself for an argument, when Garvin defused the situation by exiting the office he'd been in and freezing like a rabbit in the headlights at the sight of John.
"Morning," John greeted him cheerfully. Next to him, Sherlock was putting on his 'friendly and amenable' smile.
"Mr Garvin, how nice to see you again," he said cheerily.
Garvin looked at him and paled. It occured to John to wonder what kind of shape the man's heart was in.
Fortunately, Lestrade chose that moment to emerge from his office, and Sherlock swept off to meet him, Garvin immediately gone from his mind.
John stayed, pinned by Garvin's horrified gaze.
The detective who had been taking his statement emerged from the office behind him and stared worriedly between him and John. John shook his head slightly at her. He didn't think he was in any danger.
"You're not..." Garvin began weakly.
"I'm not an abusive husband. In fact if you ask my, ah, my other half, you'll find I'm quite the gentleman." He smiled a little, hoping that Garvin would follow suit. He didn't.
The older man's eyes remained fixed on John's as his jaw worked uncomfortably, chewing over his thoughts. Sherlock was in Lestrade's office now, John could hear their raised voices. If Garvin didn't come up with anything soon, he'd have to just walk away. Finally though, the other man opened his mouth.
"I...I apologise. Mr An... Mr Watson."
"Please think nothing of it Mr Garvin. I'm sorry for the deception."
Garvin nodded, eyes far away now, and John glanced towards the detective before setting off for Lestrade's office.
Poor bugger, John thought again. He met the love of his life and it turned out to be Sherlock.
Mind you, that hadn't ended so badly for him.
By the time he got into the office, Sherlock and Lestrade seemed to have gone willingly back to their corners and were sitting on opposite sides of the desk, glaring at one another. Lestrade looked up at him as he came in and pulled a statement form from a drawer. John reached out for it, used to the process by now, and sat down to start filling it in.
"So this Kirsty Lowen; what did you say she does? She's a professional...woman?"
"She's a consulting woman," Sherlock replied. "The only one in the world. She invented the job."
"Right," Lestrade muttered, scribbling something in his notebook. "And she taught you how to dress in drag."
Sherlock humphed and John, spotting another argument brewing, intervened. "She advises transgender people on their appearance and making the transition from one gender to another," he summarised. "She's very clever. Everyone at that party was totally convinced that Sherlock was a woman."
Lestrade still looked confused. Sherlock gave a gusty sigh.
"Oh for heaven's sake! Just ask or we'll be here all day."
Lestrade looked steadily at Sherlock and chewed contemplatively on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then finally let his curiosity get the better of him.
"Do the high heels hurt to walk in?"
"At first. Next."
"Weren't you cold?"
"Only when we were outdoors. Next."
"Was that a wig?"
"No, Kirsty straightened my hair. Next."
"Did you wear a bra to...to put your falsies in?"
Sherlock scowled darkly.
"They aren't falsies," John cut in, deadpan. "They're hand-finished silicon breast-forms."
"Each areola is a work of art!" Sherlock added passionately.
"He's quite pleased with them."
Lestrade nodded weakly, then gave his head a little shake, as if to clear it.
John finished filling in the form and passed it over, and for the next ten minutes or so Lestrade went over both their statements, as careful as ever, asking questions and confirming details here and there.
They were just about done, when there was a knock at the door and Dimmock rudely let himself in.
"Greg, I...oh, hello. If it isn't Miss Anderson!" he smirked.
"Mrs, actually," Sherlock replied with an air of haughty nonchalance.
Dimmock just stood there for a bit, apparently having been unprepared for his jibe to fail to get a rise. Finally the corners of his mouth twitched and he tried again.
"I suppose you are the type who enjoys things like that, eh?"
The 'freak' was implied, but they all heard it, and Sherlock bristled, his mouth pinching into a sour curve.
"At least he has the option," John put in lightly. "You wouldn't have the legs for it."
Not the sharpest comeback, but Dimmock seemed put out anyway. Lestrade stood as John and Sherlock got to their feet, and made the usual hopeless plea about court dates and ties as he walked them back across the office to the lifts. Sherlock said goodbye to him firmly as the lift carriage arrived and, with a sigh, Lestrade let them be.
John jostled Sherlock with his elbow and said quietly; "I hope you don't mind my having said that. I know it was childish."
The lift doors pinged open and they both stepped in, Sherlock smiling. "Not at all," he replied. "It's nice to be stood up for."
They were just standing there, facing into the office, smiling stupidly at each other by that point, and John got the feeling that there were quite a few pairs of eyes staring at them. Sherlock pushed the button for the ground floor without looking away from John's face and the old lift began to make its familiar heaving noises.
Come on, John thought. You've got about five seconds before the doors close. You know you want to.
He wasn't sure if he was urging on himself or Sherlock, but they both moved in the same instant, leaning together for a kiss as the lift doors began to slide shut. John was aware of a gasp from the office and Sherlock's wry smile against his lips, but he didn't really care now.
He got to be the one kissing Sherlock, and he didn't really give a damn about much else.
Well, this has been a very interesting and enjoyable story to write. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you had as much fun with it as much as I did. Thank you also to everyone who has left me a comment. They kept me going when I hit tricky spots, and I appreciate each and every one of them.
I was reading a lot of Agatha Christie stories when I was writing this, and it sort of shows. Garvin's two assistants, Norman Vale and M. Fournier, are both named after characters from Death in the Clouds (I suck at naming characters so I tend to 'borrow' names or slightly change them) and Sherlock's final line in chapter 13 is inspired by a quote from Lord Edgware Dies, when Poirot says to Hastings;
"No human being should learn from another. Each individual should develop his own powers to the uttermost, not try to imitate those of someone else. I do not wish you to be a second and inferior Poirot. I wish you to be the supreme Hastings."
which I always thought was quite a romantic line, if one wishes to interpret it that way.
I liked Kirsty and might try and bring her back at some point, though I don't quite know how. I also find Lestrade realy good fun to write, so I might try and do more with him in my next story. I do have some ideas for other Sherlock stories actually, but I think I'm going to try and get some work done on my original fiction for a while now, and come back to Sherlock when I've made some progress with that, as my readers have been very patient with me. If you'd like to read more of my writing, my original fiction, which includes slashy fairytales in a modern setting, a couple of standalone stories, saucy logic puzzles, and my epic, novel length quasi-historical romance in-progress, The Blue Prince, is all housed at , under the name DancingGrimm (there's a link on my profile).
I'm also on livejournal and Tumblr, also as DancingGrimm. I'm not good at the whole social networking thing, so these serve mainly as updates listings for my writing, but if you'd like to follow me, you're more than welcome to do so.
That's the end of my blatant self promotion. For now.
A while ago, AssamTea asked my permission to translate this story into Chinese, and I asked that she (I think it's a 'she') wait until it was finished in case I needed to go back and edit anything. As it's now done, I'm happy for AssamTea to go ahead. If you read this, please let me know where you post the story in Chinese and I'll be sure to link to it.
Raayner also mentioned some art to accompany the story, which I am waiting for with much excitement :D
Once again, thank you for reading, and have a great day.