Hello everyone! I saw this prompt on kink meme and I ran with it since I couldn't stop myself. I would have posted it sooner but I was in the process of moving home and didn't have any internet.

This is all me so I apologize for any mistakes that are in here and I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Sherlock, despite being a genius, looked like a drug addict even though he hadn't touched a substance in years. John didn't care but the yard do and make it known as often as they can.

Original Prompt: Imagine Sherlock stopped taking drugs, but never dropped his 'Shezza' look. So he's usually dressed in ratty clothes, doesn't shower as often as he should, his hair is messy & oily, skin looks bad and he rarely shaves, so he usually looks like a homeless junkie. Obviously this means Donovan & co are even less pleased to see him help out on crime scenes and he has a harder time getting into labs, but he's a genius so somehow he manages to gain reputation nonetheless, and everything happens the same as in canon. (established relationship with John that makes everyone question John's sanity and tastes would be a bonus!)

One day, he gets a case that requires him to look like a rich successful man, so he puts on one of the suits Mycroft keeps buying for him, gets a haircut, shaves etc. Cue everyone being STUNNED and disbelieving :) (and maybe he sees how much John appreciates the change and decides to keep it?)

Looks are deceiving

"How can you stand him," Sally said. The disgust and contempt she held for Sherlock Holmes where clearly evident in her tone and all of her body language. Sally constantly had that look on her face whenever John and Sherlock strolled onto a crime scene or into the Yard.

Having been asked the same question many times before John rolled his eyes and breathed slowly through gritted teeth. "He's brilliant."

On cue Sally scoffed loudly and from the back of her throat. "That," she spat emphatically. "is not brilliance. Look at him."

John was looking at Sherlock and a small smile lifted the corner of his lip. The consulting detective was flitting around the corpse of a young man, firing off deductions and theories while quickly proving them as the evidence made it known to him. He moved with the grace of a dancer while Lestrade's moves where jagged as he tried to keep up with Sherlock's constant moving.

"Like I said, he brilliant," John said.

Sally shook her head, her mouth tightening. She pointed a finger at Sherlock and her irritation was so strong that John was starting to feel the effects. "He's an addict. A known one too. Look at him, he wearing bloody tracksuit pants to a crime scene that have stains on them. So do the rest of his clothes and he's wearing runners." Her nose wrinkled as she looked over him and she turned and glared at John. "He's scruffy, unhygienic and an addict. How can you let him leave the house like that?"

Anyone who knew John Watson, really knew him, was aware that when he went solider straight and deadly calm that he was truly angry and that they had overstepped the line by several miles.

"He was an addict but now isn't. He's clean," John said. His words were clipped and he saw Sally starting to straighten as he captain voice (as Sherlock had dubbed it) came out. "You are a professional working in law enforcement, or so you claim. You should know very well that looks could be deceiving." He paused and looked at Sherlock. "Although it's clear you don't otherwise Sherlock would be out of a job." He looked back at Sally and gave her a sharp smile. "How fortunate for us."

Sally jaw dropped as John spoke to her and she looked at him with disbelief. White-hot embarrassment flashed and anger flared through her as she tried to save face. "You're as mad as him." She knew it had done nothing though when John gave her a pitying look.

"Let's go, John," Sherlock commanded, shoving his hands into the blue, ratty wind jacket that he wore. Behind him Lestrade was rallying the other men to finish up.

John automatically fell into step with his partner without another look or word to Sally. He could feel her eyes following them as they left and so John made sure to lets his hand brush against Sherlock's arm as they walked.

"Where are we going?" John asked as Sherlock stuck out his arm for a taxi when they reached the main road.

"The Labs," Sherlock said. "I need to check some data. If I'm correct we can have this solved by dinner."

"Does this mean you'll eat?" John asked hopefully.

"Maybe."

By the time they reached the labs John's patience, having already been tested by Sally, was on the verge of becoming none existent. The cabbie had made his distaste for Sherlock quite evident by the way he kept looking at him in the rearview mirror. Sherlock had been running through the evidence with John, his face pinched with frustration as he tried to work through the clues he could not make sense of just yet.

Sherlock often ran his hands through his hair when he was frustrated which only added to the mess his curls were already in. John fists had clenched when the taxi driver pulled off to the side, four blocks from the Labs.

"Why have you stopped?" Sherlock demanded.

"I ain't havin' your sort in 'ere," the man grunted.

"What the hell does that mean?" John all but growled.

"Come on, John," Sherlock said, already opening the taxi door. "We're wasting time."

John had ignored the taxi driver as he shouted at them to pay and slammed the door has hard as he could before hurrying after Sherlock. Four blocks later they arrived at the labs only to be blocked by Molly.

"What do you mean we can't use the labs?" Sherlock frowned. "We have a case."

Molly bit her lip, looking between John's furious expression and Sherlock's confused one.

"Well, it's just," Molly stammered. She looked over her shoulder, eyes darting all around her. "They don't really like it. My bosses, I mean."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Who care's about them."

Molly's hands wrung together and John could see her frantically trying to come up with some excuse not to let Sherlock in. She had done it before (never successfully) and John knew the reason why. It was because of the way Sherlock looked. He didn't fit the 'standard' of St. Bart's as one of the paper pushers had once informed John (and after John threatened him not so subtly it was never brought up again).

"I could lose my job," Molly protested weakly.

"Nonsense," Sherlock said and pushed past her and into the lab.

"John," Molly tried but she fell silent as John's less than impressed expression. "You know what they say. If he just -" she tugged at her lab coat.

"Yes, I do," John agreed, his voice clipped. "and I expected better form you, Molly, being a scientist yourself." He ignored her wounded look and pushed into the lab and shut the door firmly behind him.

Molly got the message and didn't bother them again.

Sherlock was already at a computer, typing away frantically and John walked over to him, standing behind him. Still furious John simply leaned his head forward between Sherlock's shoulder blades and breathed deeply and tried to let his anger and disappointment bleed down and out.

"It was the step-sister," Sherlock said, startling John. They had been silent for so long and John had finally managed to release most of the irritation he had been carrying around with him all day. "Text Lestrade."

John nodded and stepped away while pulling out his phone.

"We'll have Thai for dinner," Sherlock said. "And yes, I'll have some of yours."

John chuckled and quickly pressed a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "Thank you, love."

It took them another month before Lestrade called them for a case. They had kept busy by taking clients from John's blog but John was pleased that Lestrade had finally called with a murder that would keep Sherlock occupied for a while. While John liked the DI he was often disappointed with the man.

Lestrade was well aware of Sherlock's drug history and knew how far the consulting detective had come. But just like everyone else they were too concerned with Sherlock's appearance to really appreciate just how brilliant Sherlock was. If they put aside their judgments they would find that they could close cases a lot faster if they allowed Sherlock to help.

John didn't come along to the crime scene as he had work but he gave Sherlock a long, steady kiss and promised that he would be off early so he could help if Sherlock required it.

"I always require you," Sherlock said, his voice husky before he pulled John back into another kiss that made him late for work.

John was slightly disappointed that he didn't hear from Sherlock during his shift but wasn't worried. For a change of pace he was actually able to talk to his patients without interruption and the day ran smoothly. John was happy when he could return home and made a quick stop at the shops to pick up some milk.

"Ah good your home," was how Sherlock greeted him. He lifted himself off the couch, glad in his pajama bottoms and a thin white t-shirt and his blue robes.

But John didn't see any of this. All he could focus on was Sherlock's hair.

"You had a haircut," John blurted out.

Sherlock lifted a hand to run through the shorter and neater looking curls. "Yes."

"Why?" John frowned.

"It's for this case. I'm going undercover," Sherlock grinned.

John shook his head with amusement as Sherlock excitement. "What's the case?"

"A member of a gentleman's club was murdered," Sherlock explained. "I know the murder is a member. He's killed two other members so far and I need to blend in to determine the murderer."

John nodded. "Any leads on which member it is?"

"Evidence suggests it could be several members. I need more evidence," Sherlock said. "I need you to help me shave."

"Let me put the milk away. I'll meet you in the bathroom," John said.

Sherlock nodded and John listened to his bare feet pad across the floor and shuffle around in the bathroom. John took a moment to steady himself and when the milk was away he joined Sherlock in the bathroom. His partner had set everything up and was already leaning back against the bathtub.

"How did you know I knew how to do this?" John asked as he started rubbing shaving cream over Sherlock's cheeks and chin.

"You were an army doctor," Sherlock huffed. "Of course you know how to do this."

John lips quirked but Sherlock was right. He had often had to shave those who had been wounded. "It's been a while though."

"I trust you," Sherlock said so simply that John's heart picked up and a full smile blossomed.

John took the knife and saw that it was already sharpened to perfection. With careful moves John shaved Sherlock. Sherlock sat completely still, eyes tracking John as he skillfully removed the hair until there was nothing left. The doctor took his time wiping away the excess cream and couldn't resist trailing his fingers over the fresh, smooth skin.

"You like me like this," Sherlock's deep voice echoed around the bathroom.

"I do like the angle," John grinned, brushing his lips against Sherlock's bowed ones.

Sherlock huffed but didn't pull away. "You know I meant me clean shaven."

"I do," John agreed. "I also like you any way you want to be. You know that."

Sherlock nodded. "But it upsets you what other's say."

"You are more than what you look like, Sherlock," John said firmly. "You know I don't care how you dress. I care that people still think you're an addict when I know how hard you've tried to stay clean and how you haven't broken on your dark days." John leant down and pressed a quick firm kiss on his lips before pulling back. "I care that people think you are unhygienic when I know you aren't. I know why you were those clothes and I don't care." He pressed another kiss to those sinful lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," Sherlock responded immediately. "Thank you."

"Just be who you want to be, Sherlock," John said. "Because that is who I fell in love with."

"Would you want me to keep looking like this?" Sherlock asked. He said it quietly, looking almost shy.

John took his time pressing kisses all over Sherlock's face until he felt his partner relaxing under his ministrations. "I love you and I will support you what ever look you want."

Sherlock leaned in and pulled John into a deeper kiss and wondered, as he often did, how he deserved John Watson.

"Bloody hell," Lestrade said in an overly choked voice. His eyes were bugging from his head as he stared at, who he assumed because he wasn't entirely sure, Sherlock Holmes.

When he had received the call from John to meet them at the gentleman's club it never crossed his mind that either of them would get in. But when he arrived on the scene and strode inside he stopped dead.

Standing behind a cuffed man was Sherlock Holmes. Lestrade took in the new hair cut, the expensive stylish suit that was tailored to his thin frame and his freshly shaved face. He looked human.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Sally muttered from his side as she too took in the new transformation.

"Ah, good. You finally manage to arrive," Sherlock said. "Late as usual but no matter. John here was able to subdue the man easily."

Lestrade managed to tare his gaze away from Sherlock for a moment to see John wiping the blood of the murderer off his knuckles before they were back on Sherlock.

"What the bloody hell is this?" he demanded.

"I got you the murderer," Sherlock said. "Obviously."

"So you finally cracked," Sally said, directing her question to John. She looked and sounded extremely smug. "You finally saw him the way the rest of us did and made him change. "

"Sherlock just caught your serial killer and your talking about his undercover look?" John growled. "Are you that fixated on my partner that you feel the need to comment on his appearance constantly?"

Sally recoiled as though she had been slapped. "As if I would fixate on that freak."

"Then stop commenting on him or I'll file a report," John snapped.

"Don't," Lestrade warned as she opened her mouth to retort. "Or I too will be filing a report."

Scolded and embarrassed Sally sneered at Sherlock and walked off the scene.

While another officer took the cuffed murderer away Lestrade strode over to Sherlock and smiled. "You look good like this. Professional. If this continues I can offer you more cases."

Sherlock looked over at John who gave him a secret smile and half shrug.

"We'll see," Sherlock said.

"You don't want to stay this way?" Lestrade frowned. He lowered his voice. "Not even for John?"

Sherlock looked over at John and smiled at him. "John loves me how ever I look."

Lestrade couldn't see how but he had learnt that John was never to be underestimated and so he kept his mouth shut. "Good work, any how."

Sherlock nodded. "Would you really give me more cases if I looked like this?"

"Yeah," Lestrade nodded. "You're good Sherlock and when you look good too you reflect well on the Yard."

Sherlock nodded but said nothing else on the matter. "Let's go, John."

John nodded and the two left the scene.

Lestrade shook his head and ran a hand through his grey hair. He was truly baffled by Sherlock and John but he was glad the two had found each other. He wondered what it was like to be truly loved for who you really were – if you looked like a drug addict or were a damaged ex-army doctor.

Looks were deceiving and Lestrade had seen it first hand.

Please review and let me know what you thought and happy reading.