Halloween sherlolly

It was a chilly and blustery Thursday night late in October that found Sherlock Holmes invading Molly Hoopers flat once more. They'd been spending more and more time together in the past few months but strictly as friends. Very close friends. But that was perfect, it was fine. If they got together a couple of nights each week and ate at one or the others it wasn't seen as any big deal. No one who knew them ever even insinuated to them about it anymore. So they just co-existed more often than not. So it wasn't all that uncommon that they found themselves that dreary evening, where after sharing a bit of dinner and a cuppa Molly left Sherlock to go and work in her bedroom while he sat stroking the cat's ginger fur while he most surely did not watch (but yes of course he watched) whatever that awful reality show that was on.

Molly could be heard in her room shoving about in her wardrobe pulling out a tote from its buried position until one smaller tote came free. Sherlock had of course heard Molly struggling, but steadfastly avoided helping with anything that sounded remotely like work.

It wasn't until a flash of color caught his eye that he decided to go see what she was up to. Heaving himself from his reclined position he strolled leisurely to the doorway of the room. Molly sat cross-legged on the floor with her back to the door as she reached in and pulled out garment after colorful garment. Looking each over and tossing it aside around her various costume pieces- cat ears and masks all lay beside her.

"Looking for something to wear to Leatrades party?" Molly startled and looked up at him over her shoulder.

"Jesus! You scared me" she laughed. "But yes."

Smirking he teased. "Can't have that." He stepped in and sat on her bed. "What are you planning to be?"

"I don't know. Nothing's really calling to me. Been there done that and all. Are you going this year?"

"Drunken strangers and terrible loud music? No, thank you I'll pass." He turned to her closet. "But there's enough awful things here that we that I'm sure we can come up with something for you to be."

"Ah right," she chuckled, " I am speaking to the one and only Sherlock Holmes, master of disguise aren't I ? So help me come up with a disguise and make it a good one. " Molly stood up and waited there by him awkwardly as he rummaged through her clothes.

Sherlock murmured pulling an occasionally shirt or dress out as he flicked through every hanging item she owned. He paused though when he reached a long black coat. One that happened to have a cornflower blue scarfed tied around it. In a very, very familiar knot.

Without a word Sherlock pulled it out and raised a questioning eyebrow to her. Molly just stared at him as the color drained then rushed back into her face. "I ... I.. um I can explain. Well you see I, that is-"

He lifted the scarf and peeked in. "Not my size Molly, but otherwise very, very like mine. Aside from quality that is. This has so much polyester in this blend to even consider calling it a tweed."

"Well I did get it from a second hand shop. I wasn't going to invest a lot into something I just bought as a joke. That's all Sherlock, it was for a silly superhero party that I never even went too and it was years ago. Right around the court case against Moriarty."

He looked at the coat set once more and hummed. "Well this should work for Lestrade's party. Why not wear this?"

"You are joking, right?" She laughed, pulling the coat away to try to move on. "I can't do that."

"Sure you can."

"Sherlock..." Molly chided.

"Molly." He sang back. "Just wear it. Why not? Are you worried you'll offend me?"

"Not offend exactly...It just doesn't seem like the most appropriate option to go as someone you know." She argued.

"It's a bit flattering, honestly." Sherlock smiled a tiny half smile. "Comparing me to a superhero, eh?" He flopped down on her bed, crossing his arms behind his head and crossing his ankles, looking for al the world like he belonged right there- stop it Molly! "I suppose you could do some fake blood and go for the post Reichenbach look."

Molly turned a sad eye on him. "No thank you. I remember that look a bit all to well." Sherlock didn't seem to be able to find an answer so she moved on. "Besides what if you did decide to come. Then what?"

"What do you mean then what? The odds of me going are quite low." His mobile pinged and he fished it out, reading the message. "I've got to go take care of this. But Molly, go. Be me. You have my blessing."

He stood and walked out, Molly followed behind him as he wrapped his own coat on with that exaggerated flourish he was so fond of and twisted his own grey scarf on with finesse. "I'll consider it Sherlock. Thanks for bringing those chips for dinner."

"You are welcome." He paused looking down at her a moment before bending down to press a quick kiss to her cheek before walking out the door. In the wake of his leaving, Molly blushed like a preteen girl after her first kiss as she slowly closed the door behind him, leaning against it. She had his blessing did she? Perhaps she should try on the rest of that costume. You know, just to see.

Saturday night came warmer than expected and dry. It brought out tiny children in costumes banging on the main door shrieking for candy or tricks. After the seventeenth time, Sherlock couldn't stand it any more. He had to get out and away from Mrs Hudson's delighted coos over robots and witches.

The rest of the week the thought of Molly dressed as him had stayed in his mind. Perhaps he should just drop by Gilberts... just to see... his eyes slid over to the coat by the door before he stood and slid it on. then fiddled with the two objects on the floor beside the door. "Just a quick drop in," he swore to himself. What harm could that be?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

The party is in full swing when he arrives, and by 'full swing' there's merely a horror movie playing on the television whilst people stood about in clumps chatting and drinking. A few played darts in the should have been dining room while others lingered near the paltry offerings of crisps and dips. All while dressed in various arrays of costume. It was a congeal, but not spectacular affair. A success, to be sure, but still those in attendance would remark on the night not for what had happened prior to Sherlock Holmes's arrival but what happened after that moment.

It was almost humorous, how everything just stopped When the local celebrity walked in sporting his famed belstaff coat and strode over to the far more petite version of himself. Molly had donned a wig and basic black trench coat to help the scarf complete her look. Every eye watched, and every breath was held as the man rounded his double with an observant eye until he'd completed his survey. The movie had been paused as the guests all continued to look on with mixtures of fear and trepidation as to what the man would say. They were all shocked when the stern look melted away leaving an amused smile and a quiet 'not bad.'

Molly blinked before she felt the corner of her mouth quark up. "Do you like it?"

"I do quite like you in it." He murmured, enjoying the flush and surprise 'oh' on her face. She looked down, briefly obscuring her eyes before they flashed back up to him. "Sherlock Holmes, are you wearing khaki ?"

"Yes." His own lips quirked into a smile, and his eyes.. oh how they mesmerized her with their endless colors. "It's part of my own costume choice."

"You dressed up? As what!?" Came Anderson's appallingly ill timed interruption.

"As my hero. The person responsible for saving my life the most." Sherlock tugged his scarf off to then lower his coat. Underneath a white lab coat appeared, visible beneath that was a hideous sweater ("that's my sweater, Sherlock! You told me you destroyed it in an experiment!" John bellowed and his former flatmate responded back, "Just the back, John. The front is still whole and still completely awful. But it worked."

Around the room different mourners were heard trying to figure out just who he was dressed as. "Is he John?"

"No John doesn't wear a lab coat."

"Who else does he know though?"

"Saves his life? He can't mean..."

"He's Molly!? What had she done."

"Of course he's Molly!" Mary called, a wee bit too drunk to let the idiots around them go on and on.

"Very good, Mary." Sherlock confirmed, reaching into his lab coat pocket and pulled out an old ID of one Molly Hooper and affixed it to the pocket of the coat. "Molly Hooper: my very own, very personal superhero."

A beat of pause filled the room as everyone tried to work out just what that was supposed to mean. After a second though a nervous Anderson slid toward them and pulled up his camera. "Umm... awesome costumes. Let's get a shot of you two then?"

"So long as it doesn't go on any social media or Blogs." Molly threatened in a slightly Sherlockian manner. This caused Sherlock to look down at his smaller self and grin openly, in a such a typical, adoring, Molly-like manner. It was also the moment that Anderson snapped his picture, promising the two that it would never see the light of day.

It was a promise though the he didn't quite keep. Instead he printed it and framed it, gifting it to the two of them on the occasion of their small wedding a year or so later. And it was that copy of that would hang in the couples bedroom for many years to come.