A/N: Please forgive any spelling and grammatical errors.
Disclaimer: No Characters belong to me.
"Here you go dear." Mrs. Hudson passed Sherlock's new Belstaff over to him.
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." The consulting detective replied.
John Watson watched the exchange with muted interest. Sherlock's iconic coat was previously damaged during one of their madcap cases, in which they both barely escaped an explosion set in a warehouse. Said explosion had created damage to the coat which had proven to be unsalvageable. Sherlock was forced to use his infinite mysterious sources to obtain a new one. Without his signature piece, John found that he was even more of a git than usual. So, it was much to his relief that a replacement arrived only a few days afterward. But much to his surprise, Sherlock did not immediately wear it, but hand it over to Mrs. Hudson.
"Why did you give Mrs. Hudson your new coat?" Watson asked.
"It needed adjustments." The baritone detective replied.
Watson's eyes were drawn to the detective's hand which were running over the red embroidered buttonholes. The buttonholes were not red when the garment arrived, John attempted to recall. "Why red button holes?" He thought to himself.
Sherlock with his seemingly innate ability to read his mind said only this, "Deduce it yourself."
"Maybe it's part of the Legion d'Honneur? Maybe it's for services he did for the French government." Anderson suggested.
John knew that he would not be above wearing it simply to piss Mycroft off. He knew many a time where his patriotic older sibling threatened his younger brother with a knighthood. It was a possibility.
"It could be a reminder." Molly Hooper said. "Maybe of someone he lost, or why the work is important to him."
It was a strong possibility, although it speaks strongly of sentiment. Sherlock views on sentimentality seem to negate the possibility of that being true. Watson could only recall one major instance of seeing such a strong vibrant shade of red. It was the lipstick of "The Woman" in which Sherlock seemed more interested in her mind rather than her bodily assets. The attraction was palpable between the two, though he never seemed to act on it. Was a nod of appreciation? A mark of reminder or warning of the effects of sentiment she had on him?
John arrived back to Bakers street and sat in his chair across from his friend. Sherlock sat in his mind palace pose.
"Well? What did you conclude?" The detective asked.
Watson listed the theories he collected. He could see his friend try so very hard not laugh outright at him.
"Ridiculous Watson. I'm ashamed of you. You see but you do not observe."
"Well what is it then?" His friend said irritably.
"Not everything has a deep level of complexity or double meaning attached. It's simply because I like it. Makes me look more distinct, doesn't it?"
Watson wanted nothing more to toss that coat, with his friend in it, out the window.
A/N: This quickie was inspired by a conversation regarding this topic somewhere on the internet. What theories do you have regarding the red buttonholes?