~Strappy~

A Sherlock fan fiction by Onezumi Daisuke

I do not own Sherlock or anything included therein. I only use it as a sounding board for my warped ideas. I make not profit from writing this, only a little personal joy that I try to share with others.

I have recently become obsessed with BBC's Sherlock, maybe a bit late, but I still can't seem to wait for the 2nd season to become available here in America. I can't imagine how badly I'd be annoying all my friends if I'd actually watched it when it first came out. I didn't actually write this as a couple-situation, just as friends, but if you see it as Johnlock, more power to you. Eventually I'll get around to writing one of those too.

Anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated; please tell me what you think if you feel so inclined. This is my first story for Sherlock. Just a bit of fluff. Hope you like it.

Strappy -

John Watson hauled himself up the stairs to his flat, arms full of grocery bags. After a fairly short shift – only five hours – at the clinic he was now at home, presumably for the night.

But then again, you never could tell- not when sharing a flat with Sherlock Holmes. For all he knew the man could be just inside, mixing volatile chemicals in their cooking pots, about to explode their kitchen. Or he could be pacing around the living room in his blue housecoat, bellowing about being bored and blowing holes in the wall – again.

When he had left the flat that morning, Sherlock had been in the middle of some experiment, categorizing different levels of chemicals found in amoebas, or some such. He currently didn't have a case to occupy his attention, so as such there were experiments to be completed.

Also, without a case, Sherlock could have a remarkable appetite. 'Replenishing calories,' John figured. For such a skinny man, he could really put food away when he wanted, hence the four full grocery bags John now carried.

He was actually thankful that they almost never shut the door to their flat at the top of the stairs. He could walk straight in without having to fumble for the door handle again.

So he entered the flat and moved on to the kitchen, setting the bags on the floor to be sorted. Sure enough, the kitchen table was covered with various containers filled with who-knows-what and the electron microscope that almost never moved elsewhere.

"I'm home," he called out as he put the cold foodstuffs into the fridge, amazed that his "food only" shelf was actually empty. He supposed that meant the eyeballs were elsewhere, likely still in the flat. He'd have to be careful about that…

As he put the tea away in its jar and the dry goods in the cupboard, he could hear thumping noises upstairs that sounded like Sherlock coming down.

"I got some more of those muffins you like, the raspberry ones," John called over his shoulder. "I'd seen that you'd polished off the last ones pretty quick, so figured I'd get some more." He could sense Sherlock standing in the doorway to the kitchen now, so he just continued.

"I've got us some chicken; we could heat up, unless you want to go out to eat. Do you have a case you're working on? If you don't, I was thinking we might play a game, something like—"

John had just finished putting away the groceries and turned around to face his flatmate, the tall man seemingly even taller than normal. He completely lost his train of thought as he took in the sight before him.

Sherlock Holmes, impeccably dressed as always, stood there, rolling down the sleeves of his dark blue dress shirt, wearing expensive-looking black trousers and black, strappy pumps.

John knew his mouth hung open and yet could not get the signals from his brain to close it.

"Actually, I'd rather go out tonight," Sherlock started, apparently ignoring the blatant stare from his doctor friend. "How about Chinese, I'd love some Mu-shu pork." He had actually stepped a few paces closer and was now noticing John's complete and utter staring at his feet as his heels clicked across the floor.

"John – really," Sherlock snapped his fingers in front of the man's face. John's head snapped up, staring wide-eyed into Sherlock's face. A step up from total shock, his jaw now opened and closed rapidly as he tried to formulate a thought.

"John…" Sherlock's deep voice was as flat as ever, but there was a small smile belying his humor. An eyebrow rose as he tilted his head, obviously waiting for the stunned man to gather his wits about him as best he could.

"Sh- Sherlock," John chuckled, "why – Why are you wearing women's shoes?"

"Hm? Oh, these?" Sherlock's smile was in his eyes now. "They're an experiment."

"An experiment? You're wearing high heels for a bloody experiment?" John laughed outright.

"Yes, I realized that over the years I have had to use many different forms of disguise and, however unlikely, the day may come when I have to disguise myself as either a woman or a cross-dressing male." Sherlock answered, matter-of-factly. "I determined that before that time comes, I should verify how much mobility could be afforded by various types of women's shoes."

John leaned his hip against the counter. "So, you're testing the different shoes to see which ones you could use as a disguise?" John sounded like he hardly believed the story.

"Yes," Sherlock stood straighter, both hands in his pockets. "I have acquired several pairs in different styles and have been wearing them for a set amount of time throughout the day. So far I've determined that although they seem perfectly fine for daily wear, I'm not quite comfortable with the thought of chasing criminals throughout greater London in them."

John laughed hysterically, leaning further onto the counter for support. "Ok… -laugh- ok, so, you've been wearing those things all day… have you left the flat?"

"No, didn't have any reason to."

"Ok, I see." Secretly John suspected that was because Sherlock didn't want to fall on rear in front of god and creation because he was wearing women's heels. "I –laugh- I didn't even know they made heels that big. How did you find them in your size?"

John was staring, amazed, at Sherlock's feet again. Crisscrossing straps of black leather stretched across the top of the pale foot, disappearing with the 4inch heel into the cuff of the trousers. The uncovered toes rested, seeming painlessly, against the lightly padded surface of the shoe.

"It wasn't easy actually," Sherlock grimaced. "They've been on backorder for weeks."

John slapped his hand against the counter in a new fit of laughter. Sherlock had rolled his eyes – Rolled His Eyes! That almost never happens. "Alright then –giggle- so am I correct to assume you'll be wearing those around the flat then – sporadically – until you feel you can run in them?"

"Yes, most likely," Sherlock's eyes glinted mischievously as he tilted one leg out, showing off the sandaled foot. "Why, don't you like them?"

Laughing, John pushed himself from the counter to clap a hand on his friend's shoulder, leading him from the kitchen. "No, Sherlock, I love them. Absolutely love them. I'm just amazed," he grinned up at Sherlock's smiling face. "You're the only bloke I know with enough grace to step into those for the first time and not bust his arse."

The two laughed together as they moved out into the open space of the living room. "Although," John snickered, "you might want to try getting used to a skirt as well." John tried to hold in his continuing laughter. "And shave your legs – a nice short one would go well with those. Very strappy."

Sherlock stood very straight, watching through narrow eyes as Watson tried in vain to stop laughing. Quickly, before the shorter man could fully react, he threw his small union-jack pillow across the room to smack into Watson's upraising hands and face.

Laughter filled the flat once more as Sherlock, in his favorite chair, changed to his regular, shiny black, men's shoes, ducking as the small pillow made a return trip to land behind his back against the chair.

So, just a little humor going on at 221B. :D

I think I'll have Sherlock keep those shoes though… could be fun.