John was having the strangest day. Earlier, while he walked through the offices in Scotland Yard, everyone was smiling at him. Some even went so far as to giggle. And that wasn't even the start of it. He had fallen asleep on the car ride over (it being 3 hours) and when he woke up Sherlock had an immense look of pleasure on his face. As if he did something note worthy.
Walking into Lestrade's office was worse. Anderson outright started laughing, at least Sally had the manners to try and hide it. Lestrade just wore a smirk that he had no right to, and frankly, creeped the shit out of John.
"What happened?" he asked.
"John fell asleep," Sherlock informed.
"What?" the man in question asked, "Is my hair messed up?"
"That's even funnier!" Anderson spit out.
"Stop being a douche, Anderson," Sherlock immediately responded.
"What is it! What is going on?" John said, almost hysterically.
Donnavan started rummaging through her bag and brought out her compact. "Here, have a look," she said as she handed it over.
John took the small object and opened it, looking at himself. His hair looked fine, not a strand out of place. But, he thought, if that wasn't what was funny, what is? Then he saw it: a moustache drawn in Sharpie.
"Bastard."