"Next, please."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the god-awful sweater that was plonked on the counter in front of him, before looking up at the customer.
"Really? Again? This is your fourth sweater in four days." Sherlock commented.
"I lost a bet, okay? It's hardly my fault!" The customer grumbled.
"Well, actually…" Sherlock commented.
"I know, I know. Just give me the satisfaction of pretence, will you?' The man sighed.
"I'd ask what you do with them, but I can clearly tell." Sherlock nodded to yesterday's sweater the man was currently adorning.
"Yeah, well, there's always a chance that I could die tonight and never have to buy another again."
"Are you sure you want to be found in that? Isn't that where the phrase "Wouldn't be caught dead in it" comes from?" Sherlock smirked.
"I know you think you're being funny, but I actually have to wear this to a party tonight. My chances of death are extremely high if embarrassment is a sufficient murder weapon." The man shook his head with exhausted eyes.
"Well, maybe you should just take a date." Sherlock suggested with a shrug.
"Actually… That's brilliant." The man smiled. "Nobody expects the guy with the Christmas cat sweater to bring a date."
"It really is hideous." Sherlock interjected.
"They won't even bother to shame me-" The man continued.
"Honestly, I just can't believe that there's more than just you who've bought it."
"They'll be too busy asking how the hell I managed it." The man paused then. "Wait, how will I manage it? I don't know anyone who would go on a date with this." He gestured to the sweater in disgust.
"I don't know. You don't look so bad in it. At least the blue bits will bring out your eyes." Sherlock patted the jumper.
"You could come."
"Uh, what?" Sherlock asked.
"You could come." The man repeated. "I mean, do you really think I can't go to another aisle when I purchase this garbage? There was barely anyone in here, and I still waited through that old lady just so I could talk to you."
"Really?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes." The man emphasized with a smile.
"Then I suppose you've got yourself a date." Sherlock said, trying to seem nonchalant. "I mean, it's… Cool."
"Well, cool." The man grinned. "I'll pick you up after your shift if you like."
"I finish at five." Sherlock told him, handing him his bagged sweater.
"Good, enough time to eat first." The man grinned. "I'm John, by the way, John Watson."
"I'm Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock introduced himself in turn.
"I know." John tapped Sherlock's name tag with a finger.
"Oh, right. Um, enjoy the sweater." Sherlock stammered.
"Will do." John winked.
And when Mr and Mr Watson-Holmes told the story several years later, neither of them mention the ugly blue and red Christmas cat sweater, still in the back of their drawers.
The End.