In a moment of peace and quiet at the home of jack63kids, Copgirl, MapleleafCameo and I sat, each writing (or reading) fanfic. This was written on the back of a café receipt...and promptly forgotten about until now - dedicated to the ladies above, please enjoy!
Sherlock stared.
He may have been away for more than two years but he really hadn't expected such a change in his friend.
"What?" John asked seriously, staring back at him. "Have I got an ink smudge on my face?"
"No."
"Then why are you staring? Two heads maybe?" There wasn't an ounce of his usual good humour in his voice.
Whatever else it had done for him, his time away had made Sherlock more aware of the need for tact. One too many connections with right (and left) hooks had seen to that.
John was already angry that he had been lied to and kept in the dark, now was not the time to insult him as well. The detective remained silent.
"Sherlock." The doctor's voice became dangerously quiet as he glared at the newly alive detective.
"That… um…" Sherlock waved a hand vaguely at John's face. John just looked back at him. Sherlock tried again.
"What… um… what do you call that?" this time his fingers waved towards John's upper lip.
"Harold." The other man replied, his face stony, unblinking.
For a moment not a sound stirred the air, then, as if someone had flicked a switch they both started giggling… and suddenly all seemed right with the world once more, and Sherlock was unbelievably glad to be back.
A/N The name Harold was coined for John's S3 moustache by the lovely ladies of Mrs Hudson's Kitchen.