Yes, I continued. Wooh. Heh. Have fun.

It took John ten minutes to be ready for his part as the Mad Scientist. Sherlock on the other hand…well let's just say John would have rather spent the three hours of reapplying make-up again and again and listening to his friend complaining nonstop about how stupid and unrealistic everything was and-Oh John, why why why must we do this?-well he would have rather spent those three hours NOT being around Sherlock. Finally, when Sherlock's face was so caked with make-up that he could hardly talk, they could leave to meet Lestrade at the warehouse that would be their haunted mansion for the night.

"Sherlock, stop messing with your fangs or they'll fall out again."

The dark-haired man snorted.

"That's what I'm trying to do, John. Are those goggles impairing your thinking process or are you just naturally daft?"

John elbowed him hard in the side.

"Hell, we should have just let you go as yourself," he muttered. "Have your own haunted room and everything. You could scar the children for life just by being complete arse."

Sherlock shot him a nasty look. Normally John would have at least gotten a chuckle out of that one; the detective must be in a really terrible mood.

The taxi ride was like a slow and painful-and awkwardly quiet-death. Sherlock was trying so hard to give John the silent treatment for letting Lestrade push him into this predicament, but he couldn't stop squirming around impatiently. Every once in a while he would open his mouth to say something, but would remember he wasn't talking to John, and would shut it again testily. These constant almost-interruptions of his thoughts made the ten-minute ride unbearable for John, and he was sure it was just as irritating for Sherlock himself.

Lestrade wasn't there when they arrived but Anderson and Donavan gave them hell for their getup.

"Aww, I was hoping you'd be a werewolf," Donavan teased. "With all that howling you do all the time, seems like it would suit you better."

"Yes, isn't that too bad. Seems like they got you two right though: A mindless zombie and a scantily-clad vixen. John didn't you say this was an event for children? How on earth is that costume appropriate?"

He gestured to Sally's revealing dress. Besides being so short, it was covered in fake blood, adding a disturbing element to the whole ensemble. Sally rolled her eyes and didn't even bother with a snappy response. She spotted Lestrade and happily trotted over to him, leaving Anderson looking a little lost.

"A recent breakup," Sherlock commented dryly after Anderson had wandered off awkwardly and left them alone. "Now she's making a move on Lestrade. Not so smart considering he's just divorced his wife. He'll still be a bit raw after discovering Mrs. Lestrade's infidelity. Though at least Sally is no longer going after married men…"

John looked up in surprise at the normally-uninterested-in-these-kinds-of-things detective.

"Since when do you care?"

Sherlock met John's gaze. John braced himself for a curt reply.

"I don't," he answered calmly. "I'm merely observing." He turned and followed Sally, probably to complain to Lestrade some more.

John sighed. Sherlock was always full of little surprises. That was really what made him so interesting. Besides the obvious of course: chasing after dangerous criminals and such.

He suddenly realized he had forgotten about the possibility of Sherlock having an evil plan.

"Dammit!" Not good. Sherlock could have whatever mischief he was getting into all ready to go.

John'd have to be extra careful now, having wasted so much time already...

Thanks to that lovely reviewer who commented on the last chapter: "By the howling Sherlock is doing, I'm thinking werewolf." It served as great inspiration for a sassy Sally. Thank you, dear.