A/N: So I decided, since I'm totally frustrated with my WIP dragon novel, I'd devote today to a few silly Halloween vignettes. Most of them are Sherlolly, some will feature Gabriel and Scarlett and perhaps even the twins. All will be silly and have been written quickly- so forgive any little quirks and just be affected by art...LOL.
Disclaimer: I own very little.
"What is that God-awful smell?" Sherlock grumbled as he stumbled out of bed. His bare feet slapped against the cold floor and his toes were freezing. Not to mention he'd only gotten to sleep an hour before because of that woman thing. It was a sad world indeed when he was forced to share his bed with a rabid wolverine. Molly clawed, kicked and sprawled in the throes of REM sleep, leaving him wide awake and bruised most nights. It's too bad that his sense of decency wouldn't allow him to simply have sex with her and then relegate her to the couch right after. Or maybe even a large pillow on the floor.
The stench was coming from the kitchen and for a moment he thought that perhaps he'd left some experiment in the oven. When he rounded the corner, John was sitting in his usual place reading a book and Mary was standing at the stove cooking breakfast.
"What are you talking about?" Mary asked, flipping an omelet artfully in her skillet.
"That smell. It's like a burning pyre of cinnamon sticks on top of a moldy fruit salad." He opened the fridge, seeking out the source of the offending odor.
He turned and Mary was right behind him, a pot of coffee clutched in her hand. "You mean this?" she asked with an innocent grin, holding the steaming pot just under his nose. Sherlock inhaled and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The substance in the glass carafe was a murky orange the color of red mud.
"Yes… what the hell is that?"
"Pumpkin spice latte," Mary and John chimed in unison. "You'll like it," Mary added handing him a cup and pouring the caustic looking liquid. Sherlock examined it as he walked toward the table.
"Orange. It's orange. I don't like orange food," he grumbled setting it down. "Don't we have any normal coffee? Or even better… tea."
Mary leaned over him, pouring bubbling hot milk from a tiny pitcher into the top of the mug and then stirring it around carefully with a toothpick. When she was done, a spooky looking face had appeared in the top of his morning coffee. "This was all they had at the market yesterday. So just drink it and don't complain, Sherly."
He bristled. There was nothing he hated worse than being called Sherly. He glared at John over his cup. "Shut it," he growled as John bit his lip to keep from laughing.
Mary sat down between the two and divided the omelet in three. They ate in silence for several minutes until Molly swept into the room, uncharacteristically cheerful for early morning. "Good morning!" she sighed, practically dancing across the room toward the coffee pot. She sank into the chair beside Sherlock and licked his cheek.
"You're in an awfully good mood," Mary commented, nudging Molly under the table.
She blushed. "That was great, but it's not why I'm so happy. I'm happy because today is October the first."
"And?" Sherlock muttered, watching Molly take his coffee cup away.
"And… it's nearly Halloween. I LOVE Halloween." She took a generous sip of the coffee and sighed with contentment. "And the autumn. It starts to be chilly… the leaves turn… the weather has that crisp, colorful look… the smoky scent of burning leaves in the air. It's my favorite time of year."
Mary smiled. "You just like scaring people."
"That too."
John set his book aside. "I know what you mean. I always liked Halloween as a kid. Fancy dress and all that. It's like for one night you don't have to be yourself."
"Exactly!" Molly beamed. "And speaking of pumpkins, the first order of business is a jack o' lantern!"
Sherlock sighed heavily. "Oh God… this is one of those times where we have to bring something outside to the inside and let it rot in our parlor. Excellent."
"Oh don't be such an asshat," Molly said. "It'll be fun. Didn't you ever have a jack o' lantern or go trick or treating as a kid?"
Sherlock just glared.
"Of course not," John started. "He was born old."
"There's no such thing as ghosts, goblins or zombies. Why pretend for one night every year? It's ridiculous."
Molly heaved an exasperated sigh. Being ridiculous every once in a while might do you some good, Mr. Holmes." Turning her nose up at him, she took his cup of coffee started to walk away, then thought better of it and went back for his plate as well before disappearing into the other room.
"I cannot believe I've been dragged to a pumpkin patch," Sherlock said. "I always knew that romantic entanglements would cloud my brain."
Mary laughed and clapped him on the back. "Lighten up, brainiac. It may be the new sexy but your massive intellect is getting on my nerves. Molly's like a kid sometimes. You have to let her play or she'll never let you alone. Now come on and let's just find a pumpkin to make her happy."
"You're so indulgent," he sighed. "You know that's why she's like this."
"I know." Grabbing Sherlock's hand, she dragged him out into the field. Bales of hay and jaunty scarecrows had been set up amongst piles of pumpkins in every size as far as the eye could see. Children ran up and down the rows and Molly was right along with them. She laughed and ran, dodging handfuls of hay being vigorously thrown by John. Her auburn hair was like fire in the autumn sun and suddenly, Sherlock didn't much care that it was a ridiculous mission he'd been dragged on.
Up and down the rows they walked, picking up one pumpkin then trading it for another when Molly found one she liked better. "Molly… just choose one already," Mary sighed. "You're just going to cut it up anyway."
"Shush! Don't say that out loud. They'll hear you," she said, jerking her thumb back to indicate the pile of pumpkins behind her.
"Mary! Think fast!" Mary turned just as John pitched a small pumpkin toward her. Apparently it had been sitting on the ground a while and the flesh had grown soft and squishy. With a gasp and a leap she caught it, the pumpkin practically exploding against her chest. John was immediately on the ground, rolling with laughter. Molly and Sherlock stood there with their mouths agape, staring at Mary who stood motionless.
"Any minute she's going to skin him," Molly said.
Mary wiped her hands down her shirt. The moldy scent of half rotten pumpkin permeated the air. Strings of pumpkin flesh and seeds were stuck in her hair and down her chest, dripping with gooey viscosity into her cleavage. "You. Are so. Dead." It was all she could utter and John couldn't hear her for laughing. Molly hid her face in Sherlock's coat, trying not to laugh lest Mary's wrath be turned on her. Scooping up a glob of pumpkin guts, she hurled it at John and splattered it on the side of his face.
"Oh gross!" he shrieked, picking up another putrid gourd from the ground. He pitched it at her, but this time she was too quick, ducking as it whizzed by her head and splattered against Sherlock's back. He turned, rage evident in his eyes. Molly laid a calming hand on his arm, but it was too late. He charged at John, knocking Mary out of the way.
"Hey!" she shouted, falling over a hay bale and sitting down hard on another smooshy pumpkin. "Oh uccck…." she groaned. Molly tore her eyes away from the scene of Sherlock tackling John and smashing a handful of pumpkin guts in his face to help Mary up.
"Oh my Gods…" she laughed, trying to pull her friend to her feet. The ground all around them was slippery and Molly slid, falling on top of her. Soon both were covered in pumpkin goo and wrestling in the grass.
"Ahem…" Both women looked up to see a man dressed in overalls and a straw hat standing over them with his arms crossed. John and Sherlock had stopped fighting and were staring at the Girls Gone Wild scene that had unfolded before them.
Molly held up the nearest intact pumpkin. "We'll take this one."
