John pressed the headband adorned with cat ears through Sherlock's curls and behind his ears, "You're such a pretty kitty," he said sweetly, cocking his head slightly as he eyed the detective. They were going to the annual Scotland Yard Halloween party, and Sherlock had refused to wear a proper costume until John had to practically pin him down and shove the ears onto him.
Sherlock sighed, playing lightly with the ears he had on, "I still don't see why we have to dress up," he said, silently complying to the rules of the party and keeping the grey ears on his head, flinching when John came at him with eyeliner and began to draw a nose and whiskers on him.
"Hold still," said John, carefully drawing lines on the sharp features. His costume directly mirrored that of Sherlock's, but with an added tail, which Sherlock would later add to his quickly thrown together cat costume.
Sherlock rolled his eyes slightly, but held still until he felt the pen leave his face. He then lightly tapped at the newly made whiskers with his delicate fingertips then nodded, jumping slightly forwards as he felt John poking at the waistband of his slacks with a safety pin, "Careful!" he shouted, afraid of being lacerated by the small, but sharp, object.
"Don't worry, I got it!" he shouted back, grabbing his jacket off the couch and tossing Sherlock his coat, "We're going to be late, come on," he said, grabbing Sherlock's hand and heading out the door.
A cab waited for them in the chilly street, dusk was approaching as John opened the door and Sherlock clamored into the seat, "New Scotland Yard," both men said in unison, smiling lightly at each other upon realizing the synchronization.
They both stayed relatively quiet, John rested his hand on that of Sherlock, and they were at the Scotland Yard headquarters in no time. The driver was paid, and both men climbed out of the Taxi and entered the building. They quickly found the conference room, where Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan, and the part of the force that was currently off-duty wore quick costumes, easily compared to the ones that John had forced Sherlock and himself into, as they stood around the refreshment table making small conversation about the day and what they planned to do once they were able to go home.
Lestrade smiled widely at the detective and the doctor, mainly giddy about the fact that they wore matching cat ears and costumes, "Adorable," he said, sweeping his hand up and down the air before the couple.
Sherlock sighed, squeezing John's hand lightly as the doctor thanked the detective inspector. He didn't want to be there. There were so many cases developing today, he could feel the murders as they were being planned. He could sense duct tape, rope, and knives being bought by innocent housewives. He was itching to go back to Baker Street, wash his face, and have the clients pour in to bother him with their problems. He nodded with a closed-mouth smile at Lestrade, "John, can we go soon?" he whispered.
"Sherlock, we just got here. Relax," he replied quietly, before smiling widely at Lestrade, who was making friendly banter at them, "Excuse us for a minute," John said at a normal volume before backing Sherlock into the corner by the refreshment table, "What? Why do we need to go?" he asked, afraid that something happened to Mrs. Hudson, or someone on Baker Street had been suspected as a serial killer.
"No, nothing happened," Sherlock sighed through the reply, as he answered the thoughts rather than the words, "It's fine, let's make awkward chatter with idiots for twenty minutes until I can't handle it anymore." He led John back into the small gathering of people, waving to the different officials as they greeted them with awkward smiles and half-waves.
"Actually, let's just go, Sher," John said, adjusting his ears on the top of his head, as he said a light goodbye to Lestrade, and led his make-shift cat out of the building. Once they were back in the chilly fall air, John sat down on one of benches underneath a large, now orange and brown tree. The leaves fell delicately off the branches, drifting downwards onto the concrete, "Come on, sit," he said, patting the space next to him as an invitation.
Sherlock accepted the invite, sitting down on the cold metal bench beside John, "Lots of murders are gonna happen tonight," he said, excitement seeping into his voice as his hand held John's a little tighter, "Tomorrow is going to be a lot of fun."
John giggled sheepishly at the comment, turning over to play with the ears on Sherlock's head, as they had begun to slip off. The two men sat on the bench for a few minutes longer, until John finally hailed a cab and they returned to Baker Street. Several children clad in various costumes came to the door to receive treats. To Sherlock's dismay, no damsels in distress, or men who had come home to find they had been on the receiving end of a fatal trick showed up that night, but he was still hopeful that the morning would bring more fun, a belated Halloween treat, for the hungry detective.