Forgive me for making Molly torture poor Sherlock.
Sherlock looked at his reflection in the mirror of the hallway in Molly Hooper's flat. He cringed, and burrowed his face in his hands.
Two hours previous, Molly had shoved a pink baseball cap over his face (as though that wasn't conspicuous), and forced him into a cab that she paid to take them to a hair dresser far out of London. She ordered the hair dresser to cut his hair very short, leaving the longest hairs at only half of an inch, and a small swirl of the hairline at the back of his head. Sherlock was completely horrified.
They'd only just returned to Molly's flat when she'd rushed out the door, demanding he stayed put. He'd obeyed reluctantly, wondering why on Earth she'd insisting on murdering his hair. And then Molly herself burst through the doorway, arms full of shopping bags.
Molly threw what looked like a sickeningly fluffy second hand bathrobe at him."Go to my bathroom, strip, and put this on."
Sherlock stared."Why?"
"Because I'm dying your hair."
Hadn't chopping it all off been enough? What was left to dye(die...)?"...But why?"
"Because my little brother Sheldon is out of a job and staying in my flat now."
"Surely he- oh..." Realization dawned on Sherlock's face. He was Sheldon now. Terrible. He trudged to the bathroom, grumbling irritatingly.
"Are you changed?" Molly called from the other side of the door after a few minutes.
Sherlock didn't want to answer. Dye his hair?
"SHERLOCK!" Merlin's beard, when did Molly Hooper become so bossy?
"Yes," he answered unenthusiastically.
"Alright," Molly opened the door and strode in, dye packet in hand."I'm just dying it a lighter brown, more like mine. Where are the instructions for this..."
...
Molly refused to let him look in the mirror. She instead took a brown eyeliner from a cabinet and poked it at his face for a good five minutes.
After that she ran to the hall quickly, returning before Sherlock could view his face. She was carrying a few bags. She took a pair of glasses from one and gave them to Sherlock to put on. When he refused, she slammed them against the bridge of his nose herself.
Molly pointed to a bag full of men's neon-colored polo shirts."Those are Sheldon's." Sherlock's lip quivered.
Then Molly grinned deviously. "Alright, you can look at yourself now."
Sherlock turned to the bathroom mirror. His nastily short hair was a light chocolate brown. Realistic freckles were dabbled over his pale face. And he now wore a pair of nauseating pair of Harry Potter-like glasses. The fluffy robe (which was quite offensively pink) made matters worse.
And then, for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes sobbed.
He's scarred for life. I love reviews, by the way.