A/N: Well I made the challenge I should really post a go of it. So I have. There'll be two chapters every day. They aren't related to one another!

Happy Halloween.

1. Apple Bobbing

"Sherlock." Molly tore through the flat with her arms filled with bags of apples.

"No." His voice echoed from his corner chair.

"You promised last year!" He raises his eyes from his book to see his pathologist pouting in the doorway.

"I recall that I would play apple bobbing 'in the future.'" Sherlock's dry voice stops when he hears her sigh.

"Fine." She turns back out of the lounge door and vanishes to the bedroom. At first Sherlock is wary of her quick acceptance but settles back into his book and says nothing. The door to their bedroom closes with an audible bang, it's followed by footsteps on the stairs and the front door banging as well. Sherlock stands to peer out of the window that overlooks Baker Street and spies the reddish brown hair of Molly on the kerb.

Molly hadn't argued with him and she had left. With what appeared to be a rather massive bag and she was hailing a cab. He racked his brain (not for very long) for what he had missed this week. But he was forced into his mind palace.

Striding along the corridors he arrived at the room he had dedicated to everything Molly-ish and was assaulted by an invitation.

Ah St Barts Children's Ward. The Halloween party with apple bobbing and Molly had invited him.

Crap. He was a bad boyfriend, but it was just a Halloween party.

For sick children.

Good Lord, Mycroft was right, Doctor Hooper was making him soft.

Sherlock came back into reality with a gasp and hurtled down the stairs, hailing the next taxi. The driver was unusually quiet, a godsend but cab drivers were usually such a chatty breed but Sherlock hurriedly paid him as they pulled up to the kerb of St Barts.

The automatic doors opened with a whoosh and Sherlock was halted on his Molly centred quest by a voice calling his name.

"John?" He turned at the noise to see a badly attired vampire stride towards him.

"Mary didn't think you'd come but I knew you wouldn't let Molly down." John led him up to the children's ward, exiting the lift on a tackily decorated corridor.

Mary dressed as a witch, complete with a long green wig was wheeling a little girl up and down the corridor before over to a cauldron to cast a spell. Nurses and parents, equally attired in cheap and cheerful costumes were playing games with the children some of whom were bed bound. There in the centre, dressed as a pumpkin was his pathologist.

But Sherlock was stopped by a small voice at his side.

"Excuse me." A little bespectacled boy in a wheelchair broke his thoughts and Sherlock froze. Every helpful tip Molly had ever told him with children vanished at the sight of the boy. "Can you pass me the chocolate from the floor, I dropped it." He shrugged and Sherlock was knocked into kneeling down as the little boy pointed at the fun size mars bar. "Thank you. Why are you in pyjamas?" The little boy stared at the giant before him who was still a little unsure on how to deal with small individuals.

"It's my Halloween costume." Sherlock's automatic reply surprised himself.

"I normally wear pyjamas when I'm here." The little boy wheeled himself closer to the sweets table before turning back suddenly. "Have you come as me?!" Sherlock was taken aback at his shining eyes.

"Are you scary?" Sherlock knelt beside the boy who was undoubtedly getting a stiff neck from having to look up to him.

"Some children are scared of my chair but mum says my wheels make me cool." The boy thought for a minute as he munched on a handful of sweets. "But you don't have to be scary at Halloween! That's what Molly says." He beamed. "I've come as Sherlock Holmes and he's not scary." Sherlock's breath catches in his throat as he clocks the little boy's deerstalker and the big coat wrapped around his shoulders, clearly his dads but for once Sherlock holds his tongue. He also spies the scarf over the back of the chair and Sherlock feels his heart twinge.

"I think you look like him a lot." At his words the little boy beams again. "What's your name?"

"Ethan, I'm six years old." He smiles proudly and Sherlock can't help but grin at the infectious smile on his face. "Will you be apple bobbing later?" Ethan points towards the shallow buckets and Sherlock opens his mouth to decline. "I want to but I can't." He taps at his chair and Sherlock's mouth shuts quickly.

"I'll be your apple bobber." Sherlock offers before he can register what he's actually offered.

That's how Molly finds Sherlock after the apple bobbing; handing over a set of hot wheels cars to an ecstatic Ethan. Sherlock's curls are flattened to his head his silk pyjamas dripping but he can't help but smile at the state he's in.