Fanboys

A/N This fic is inspired by my weekend at Hal-Con. Halifax, Nova Scotia's annual Sci-Fi and Fantasy convention. This year we had Mr. Peter Davidson, the fifth doctor himself, and I got his autograph, but really had no clue what to say to him. I wondered what would happen if Sherlock and John were to go to a convention and who they would go dressed as. I do not own Sherlock and John they belong to ACD, The Moff and Mr. Gatiss as per the BBC. All other cosplayers are of my own invention and any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidence.

Sherlock was at the kitchen table surrounded by a menagerie of microscope slides, petri dishes, and various bottles of chemicals. He was trying to make himself look invested in his work but really he couldn't wait for John to leave the flat already. John had been up for an hour and was frantically running around in his room. Sherlock could hear him, every time he opened a drawer, close it, open it again. Then John was digging in the closet, every once in a while Sherlock would hear a loud thud as though an item had been sent sailing through the air and took a hard landing. What could John possibly be looking for? His room was always neat as a pin but now surely it would look like a hurricane had come through.

Finally John had come down the stairs with an overstuffed knapsack sat on his back.

"Have we got any celery?" John asked as he opened the fridge door and cautiously peeked inside.

"I don't know. Did you buy any?" Sherlock asked in return he was really trying not to show his aggravation at John still being home. Sherlock had somewhere very important to be but he couldn't get ready until John was gone.

"Found some." John said triumphantly holding his sprig of celery aloft.

"Very good John. What do you need celery for anyhow?" Sherlock tried to sound uninterested but was actually a little curious.

"Oh, um… a snack, yeah I'm a bit hungry. Well I'm heading out for the day, see you after."

And before Sherlock could protest, or remark that one celery stalk would not be enough to stave off hunger, or ask where he was headed, John was gone. After the door latched behind him Sherlock only waited a few minutes before jumping up and dashing to his room, he had to change.

Sherlock was wearing a suit, with a long jacket and a hat, his usual combination of garments. Except it wasn't, he wasn't wearing a Spencer Hart suit, he did not have on his Belstaff coat, and a Dear Stalker was not what graced the top of his head.

"Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock bellowed as he charged down the stairs.

"Oh, Sherlock, you look just like him." Mrs. Hudson cooed as she handed Sherlock a scarf that was not his blue Paul Smith. This one was handmade, knitted by Mrs. Hudson with love.

"Put it on dear and let me get a picture before you go." She held up her camera, ready and waiting.

Sherlock beamed with pride and did as she asked wrapping the 14' scarf around his neck several times and the ends still hung down to his knees. He smiled a wide toothy, genuine smile at Mrs. Hudson as she clicked the camera.

"Did John leave already? I wanted to see him before he went. Do you know if he got his celery sprig, I told him I could give him one if he needed it?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Yes" Sherlock answered slowly, "John left about ten minutes ago. He said he was going out for the day and he did take a celery stalk with him. He said he was hungry." Sherlock was now more confused than ever. It suddenly felt like Mrs. Hudson knew something he didn't, and he didn't like that feeling at all.

"Oh, well then, I guess you best be off." Mrs. Hudson said like a woman who knew she was guarding a precious secret.

Sherlock was itching to go but he didn't feel right. He was missing something; oh he hadn't said "thank you" if John were here he'd make him say it. And Mrs. Hudson really was too kind.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, this really means a lot to me." Sherlock said gently touching the scarf.

"No worries dear, it was worth it to see you all done up like this. He was my favourite you know. I had such a crush on Tom when I was younger." Mrs. Hudson actually blushed a little.

Sherlock leaned forward and gave Mrs. Hudson a peck on the cheek, and turned for the door.

"Have yourself a good time dear."

Sherlock turned back at the door flashing Mrs. Hudson another genuine smile,

"I almost forgot, Mrs. Hudson, would you like a Jelly Baby?" Sherlock asked pulling a package of the candies from his coat pocket.

"I'd love one."

Once John was inside the convention centre he went straight to the loo's to change. He wasn't the only one with that idea though. Two blokes stood in front of the sinks using the mirrors to apply their makeup and adjust their costumes.

"You need to move them a little more to the left. There!" Said one of the blokes as his friend adjusted his wings. He continued applying grey face paint to every visible part of his body.

"Do you think that's enough blue? Should I use more blue?" asked someone else dressed in a Greek style toga. His hair had been dyed blue and was spiked with gel. He was currently smothering himself in blue body paint. John wasn't familiar with the character but thought he might be from a Disney movie.

John ducked into one of the free stalls and began to change. He had made the suit himself with a little bit of help from Mrs. Hudson. John had spent the past month tip toeing around Sherlock, leery that his secret might be discovered. John had neglected getting his hair cut and was far longer than he'd had it since returning from Afghanistan. He was worried Sherlock would notice something like that, but if he did he hadn't said a word about it to John. In fact Sherlock had seemed preoccupied of late too. Wrapped up in his own stuff, maybe that's why he hadn't noticed John slipping off to Mrs. Hudson's more frequently than usual.

John exited the stall and looked himself over in the mirror. The weeping angels were gone, as was the blue guy, and John was impressed by what he saw. They had done a great job, the detail was amazing. Right down to the question mark on his shirt collar. John placed the hat on his head and felt like a walking master piece. He couldn't believe he was actually going to meet Peter Davidson while wearing this costume. John smiled at himself in the mirror, the only thing missing was the cricket bat but John did not want to carry around unnecessary props. With one last look in the mirror John left the bathroom and headed out into the crowd and disappeared amongst the heroes and villains.

Sherlock blended seamlessly in to the crowd. He was surrounded by comic book heroes and characters from cartoons and movies he'd never seen or even heard of. But none of that mattered; today he was just another face in the crowd, just another person with a geeky obsession. He was stopped several times and asked if his photo could be taken, he always said yes. He took full abuse of his anonymity to ask everyone "Would you like a Jelly Baby?"

Sherlock watched as he caught a little girl staring at him from behind her mother. The little girl was wearing a funny looking costume to be sure. It was a blue- green colour, the hood on the costume had what looked like a duck bill attached and mittens that looked like a duck's webbed feet. Sherlock also thought he saw a beaver tail attached to the back of the costume. The girl was clinging tightly to her mother's long white lab coat.

Sherlock bent down to her level. "Hello there, would like a Jelly Baby?" he asked with his most charming smile.

The girl only hid further behind her mother.

"I'm sorry; she's not usually this shy. I think it's just because everyone is in costumes." The mother replied. The mother was wearing simple black dress pants and a black long sleeve t-shirt under her stark white lab coat. Her short brown hair was styled so it stuck up at odd angles.

Sherlock had no idea what book, movie, or show they were from but they were obviously some form of a pair.

"May I take your picture?" Sherlock found himself asking. He hadn't brought a camera; he hadn't planned on taking photos of other people but…

"Of course, here just let me put her hat on. Ella, come on dear, this nice man wants to take our picture." The woman picked up her child and cradled her in her arms, cooing "I've got you now Perry the Platypus."

Platypus –noun- a semiaquatic egg-laying mammal which frequents lakes and streams in eastern Australia. Sherlock's brain supplied him.

Sherlock held up his phone just as the mother finally managed to squeeze a fedora onto her daughter's already covered head. "Smile" said Sherlock as he snapped the picture.

"Thank you" he said to the mother as she set her platypus back down.

"Not a problem, do you mind sending that to me?" The mother asked.

Sherlock smiled as he took her email address and promptly sent off the photo. She was a resent widow and this was a gift to her daughter from her father. They were supposed to have come together. Sherlock could tell, the lab coat the woman was wearing had been intended for a man, and she had not had the heart to have it altered.

John was nearing the front of the queue. He couldn't believe it, the moment was finally here. He stepped forward and froze.

"It takes a brave man to wear a vegetable as decoration." said Peter Davidson.

John wanted to faint, but took another step forward and presented a shaky smile. "You did it." He said, his voice coming out a bit squeaky.

"John" said John extending his hand, Peter shook it.

"Alright John, what picture would you like?" Peter asked him.

There were several John liked but finally decided on the one of Peter relaxing comfortably in front of the Tardis, in full fifth doctor costume of course. John asked his idol a few more questions than thanked the man for his time and took his leave.

John was walking the floor taking everything in. There were many artists there all of who were very talented in their styles. Other tables were piled high with homemade crafts such as knitted Dalek and Police Box hats, and wooden Christmas Tree ornaments. John had just picked up a lovely sketch of River Song and the Eleventh Doctor when a small furry turquoise thing bumped into his right leg.

"Oi, are you alright?" he asked looking down at the child who had run into him. It was wearing a onesy type costume with web-like mittens and the hood pulled up. John couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl.

The child's eyes went wide and looked as though they might start to tear up and shook its head no.

"Have you lost your mum?" John asked

A gentle nod yes. Thankfully they didn't have to look far. A woman in a long white lab coat was running toward John at full speed.

"Ella, there you are. Oh, my precious baby girl." The mother scooped her platypus up and pulled her close. "Don't ever run away like that again. Mummy was so worried."

"I'm so sorry." The woman said, turning her attention to John, "there is a Dalek over there and someone is making it talk, I think it frightened her."

"Oh, no trouble at all, she just bumped right into me and, well she'll be alright now she's with you." John blushed a little. The woman wasn't exactly his type but she was pretty, even with her short gelled hair. "I'm a Doctor." He felt the need to say, almost as an explanation, he meant he could take care of kids.

"I can see that." She said and John couldn't actually tell if she was flirting. "I'm a doctor today too." She added pointing out her lab coat.

"Yes, no, I mean that's what I actually do." John was beginning to feel foolish. After a few more minutes of polite conversation he came away with the woman's number and a promise of dinner sometime.

John was just rounding the corner to go wait in another queue when someone else bumped into the back of him. This person was much larger than the last one. It was certainly an adult male one who probably towered over John.

"Oi, watch it." John said turning around to confront his aggressor.

The man who had bumped into him was blindly looking around with his hands out in front groping at air.

"I'm sorry" grumbled out a deep baritone, "it's this blasted hat, it's gone and fallen down and I can't…" the man huffed in frustration tugging uselessly at the offending garment. Honestly it was lucky he hadn't tripped over the scarf that was by now hanging down to his calf.

"Oh, here, let me help. Just stop moving." John offered. His minor agitation lost at the thought of someone in need. The man stilled bowing his head low and John was able to work the hat free. Just as John was going to get a look at his latest damsel in distress he felt something slippery under foot.

Sherlock had pulled the hat down over his eyes while making funny faces at a group of small children. Making them laugh was actually bringing him a type of joy he never before experienced. The problems started when he couldn't pull it back off. From wearing the hat for so long it had become sweaty on the inside and now decided it would stick to his face. The children laughed all the more harder thinking it was part of the game so Sherlock got frustrated and walked off. He could feel the scarf loosen around his neck and prayed to anything and everything that he or someone else wouldn't trip on it.

Blinded by his hat Sherlock stumbled his way through the convention floor with his arms out in front hoping to find someone, anyone who would take pity on him. When he hit something very solid Sherlock hoped he was in luck.

"Oi, watch it." The voice was angry and a little familiar. Sherlock did his best, "help me I'm blind and I can't see." impression thrusting his hands towards the voice.

"I'm sorry" he grumbled, "it's this blasted hat, it's gone and fallen down and I can't…" Sherlock huffed in frustration tugging uselessly at the offending garment.

"Oh" the voice had suddenly gone warm "here, let me help." Sherlock twisted again trying to find the voice. A soft chuckle "Just stop moving." The helpful voice said.

Sherlock stopped moving and bowed down so his rescuer could reach the hat. In now time at all it was free and that's when everything went wrong again. Sherlock jerked back awkwardly and his scarf caught under the stranger's foot. The man slipped and as he fell the scarf pulled tight around Sherlock's neck bringing him to the ground as well.

John's legs were up in the air and before he knew what had happened he landed firmly on his back and a sharp pain ran though his spine. He could hear the sounds of a man choking and hoped he hadn't caused any permanent damage.

John sat up and saw the man loosen his scarf. He was no longer making choking noises just a few rough coughs.

"Are you alright?" John asked the man "I'm a doctor I can take a look at your throat if you want."

The man made a funny noise that John thought might have been a laugh a very rough and scratchy laugh.

"No that's fine." The man said his voice still hoarse. He pulled something out of his pocket and bringing his hand up tipped back his hat. "Would you like a Jelly Baby?" he asked with a bright smile. Almost immediately the smile faltered.

"John?" Sherlock asked

John was staring at the man dressed as the fourth doctor with great intensity and disbelief.

"Sherlock?"

They sat on the ground a few more minutes admiring each other's costumes and handy work.

Eventually John put out his hand and helped Sherlock stand up this time being mindful of the scarf. John maneuvered them over to a quiet corner with two big velvety red wing backed chairs where they could sit down properly.

After a few more minutes of awkward silence John started; "I, um, I didn't know you were a fan."

"Nor I you." Sherlock replied.

"Do ah, do you come to these things often?"

"Not especially. I just really wanted to ah, get my picture taken with Mr. Davidson and…" with each word Sherlock was getting redder. He was embarrassed that John had found out his secret.

"I got his autograph." John suddenly spilled, as if that made it okay. "I don't have enough to get my picture taken with him too though." John looked away shyly.

Sherlock hadn't said anything in a few minutes and John thought he might have got up and walked away but when he looked up he saw Sherlock staring at him from the other chair. That was when John remembered how he was dressed. Earlier Sherlock had been looking at the details of the costume but now he seemed to be looking at them on John.

John felt his cheeks heat and he wasn't sure why. Sherlock often looked at him for extended periods of time, why should this be any different.

"If you want you can have mine." Sherlock offered holding out the photo ticket.

"No, no Sherlock I couldn't, please it's yours."

A look came across Sherlock's face that made it apparent to John he had some sort of idea.

"No," he said slowly, "it's ours."

On top of the fire place mantel in 221 B Baker Street you will find several objects should you choose to inspect them. One is a skull, yes a real human skull. There is also a Swiss army pocket knife holding down the overdue bills. A tube of red lipstick that belonged to The Woman, the cluedo pieces for Professor Plum and Coronel Mustard, and The Revolver card can all be found atop the mantel. But the most interesting item, the most curious is a photo. It's a professional photograph of Sherlock, dressed as the Fourth Doctor, and John dressed as the Fifth Doctor on either side of Peter Davidson, their arms are wrapped around either side of the man and all three are grinning like giddy fools.