Crossover written for a friend.
Un-beta'd, feel free to point out mistakes for correction.
Cracky, and bad (very bad), you read this at your own risk!
He stood outside of Kiss-met, a kiss-o-gram business. Though the building was unmarked, he knew that this was the headquarters of the business, not from a brilliant deduction, but because he had seen the business card on Lestrade's desk. He also knew that he wanted to know more about this business because the fellows at the station had been raving about the redhead, even Donovan had given an approving comment.
He headed inside. It wasn't a very large place; the front room was dominated by a large desk covered in assortment of papers and two phones. A man sat behind the desk, talking to a ginger who was sitting in a chair, her legs hanging over the arm. He assumed this was the same one the boys from the station had spoke of. He looked her over. He supposed she was acceptable looking. The man however, Sherlock hoped that he always worked behind the desk, though he wouldn't exactly be opposed to him removing that jacket and loosening that bowtie.
"Can I help you? Message to send?" the man asked, leaping off from his chair.
"No." He replied. He glanced over the papers on the desk as he approached. Dates, addresses, and what he assumed to be costumes on nearly every piece; "Sept. 3, 14:30, 74 Rand Ave, fire fighter", "August 30, 130A Victoria, school boy", etc.. "I was wondering if you had any available positions." The man came out from behind the dress and he circled quickly around Sherlock.
"What do you think, Amy?" the question was directed to the redhead."
"You know people would love him, look at him." she said, rising to stand and scrutinize him a little closer. Both of them circled around him now, like vultures.
"You think?" she nodded.
"It's not like James is working out that well anyhow."
"Name?" the man asked.
"Sherlock Holmes." he replied.
"Alright, we'll put you on trial for the day, to see if you work out." the man said, taking Sherlock hand up to shake it.
"Excellent."
"We'll have you go out on the next run with Amy, she can show you the ropes." he rummaged through the papers until he found the one he was looking for, and handed it over to the girl he called Amy.
"Police officer." she said, looking at the note. "Well, let's see if we've an officer's costume that will fit you." she beckoned for him to follow her into a back room.
The room was filled with costumes, some that Sherlock was a little surprised anyone would want. Even he couldn't fathom wanting to be kissed by Winston Churchill, not that he could truly fathom wanting to kiss anyone at all. Amy pulled out a hat and shoved in onto his head over his dark curls. She then proceeded to look through the jackets. She held one up to his body, but immediately returned it to its place.
"The arms would be much too short." she commented. She searched a little longer before handing a coat over to him. He shrugged the coat on and fastened it. He thought it a little too snug, but the approving look on her face told him otherwise.
"This will do." he said.
"Yes, it's perfect." she nodded, "especially with your shirt and tie."
They went back out into the main room, where the man in the bowtie was talking to a thin man with short, dark hair. The two men turned to look at Sherlock.
"Oh, that's lovely!" the man with the bowtie shouted, rubbing his hands together in his glee.
The other man ran his eyes down Sherlock's body slowly, a smile creeping onto his face. "Lovely indeed." he said, not exactly referring to the outfit.
"Jim Moriarty." the man then said, holding out his hand, "Hi!" Sherlock clasped his hand and shook it once, introducing himself.
"Anyway, back to what I was saying," the bowtied-man interjected, "James, I think you should take a few weeks off, while you work through some things." Jim turned to him, an upset look on his face. "It's just not working out right now," he continued, "I'm not firing you, just…take some time off." he instructed.
"What? So you hire this guy before you even get rid of me?" he took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. "Fine. That's just fine."
"Alright, We'll give you a call in a few weeks to see how you are, and see about getting you some shifts." the man sat down in his chair behind the desk.
Jim stared at him for a moment before turning and walking up to Sherlock. He stood very close to him. "This is your fault," he murmured harshly "You will pay. I will burn you." he said it as though he were swearing an oath. Then he turned at stalked out the door.
"Catch you later." Sherlock said, watching him leave.
"Thank god he's gone." Amy said, and Sherlock turned back to the other two.
"Anyway, you too should be heading off if you want to make it in time." the man behind the desk said.
"Before I go, what should I call you?" Sherlock questioned. He didn't like not knowing things.
"Just call me Doctor."
"Doctor who?"
"Exactly." Sherlock frowned, but did not push the matter further.
He and Amy took a cab to the address on the note. The cabbie let them off in front of a large apartment complex. Amy went to the entrance, and buzzed to the apartment written on the paper. A drunk-sounding man answered, there was quite a commotion going on in the apartment judging by the background noise.
"I'm here with your message from Kiss-met." Amy told him.
"Great, come on in." the door opened and the went in.
While they went up in the elevator, Amy instructed Sherlock what to do. "It's a birthday party, just find the birthday boy, deliver your message and lay one on him. Sometimes they get a little bit grabby, but I think you can deal with that." Sherlock nodded. The elevator doors opened and they walked down the hall to the door. Amy knocked on the door, and then stood back, leaving Sherlock standing there alone.
"Good luck!" she shouted as the door opened and Sherlock was dragged inside.
There was a party in the apartment, complete with copious amounts of alcohol. He was steered by two men into the heart of the party. They stood him in front of a small-ish man with dark blond hair, and a slightly askew birthday hat atop his head.
"We got you something, John! Pucker up!" the others in the room laughed loudly.
John looked up at him, surprised and more than a little confused, "But…I…What?"
"I'm a kiss-o-gram, sent here just for you." Sherlock drawled. A blush rose up on John's face.
"There must have been a mistake, I don't-" he shook his head as though he were trying to clear the fog within his mind, "I like women." he stated, though he didn't sound entirely sure of himself.
"Well, I'm already here. We'll make it quick so we're not wasting either of our time." Sherlock said, tugging John up to his feet. John tried to pull back, but found he could not.
"Really, I don't think-"
"Happy birthday, John." Sherlock cut him off. Then bent his head down to kiss the man. If he found that kissing was more enjoyable than he had expected, it certainly wasn't because of this tiny man. He couldn't quite explain why then his hands cupped themselves around John's face, or why he didn't want it to stop.
After an imponderable time, he pulled back. John reluctantly pulled his hands out of Sherlock's hair, and picked up Sherlock's hat for him (when had that fallen off?), dusting it off before handing it back to him.
"Well then…" John said. Sherlock placed the hat back on his head, and straightened his jacket. "I guess now that we've not wasted our time…" Sherlock ignored this, turning and beginning to walk away. He opened the door, but something made him stop, pause momentarily to look back at John.
"The name's Sherlock Holmes" he informed him, "and the address is 221B Baker Street." and with that, he shut the door and strode off.