A/N: A short one-shot for MorbidbyDefault. This is a follow-up to Chapter 14 of my OTP Challenge, in which Sherlock has his stag do and all the Baker Street Boys dress in drag. Hope you like it!
Molly stood outside 221B, one hand supporting her intoxicated fiance, and the other fumbling with her keys to open the door. Letting go of Sherlock for a moment whilst she took off her shoes, he tottered over the doorstep in his heels, and promptly fell over, collapsing in a heap at the foot of the stairs.
"Kiss me Molly," Sherlock whined as she picked him up.
"No, Sherlock, you are going straight to bed to sleep off tonight," Molly replied, rolling her eyes and heaving him up the stairs.
After depositing him on the sofa, Molly made her way to the kitchen to make herself a well-deserved cup of tea, praying that he would behave himself for a few minutes at least, although having heard about his behaviour on John's stag do, she highly doubted that he would.
She was just adding a liberal amount of sugar to her tea when she heard LMFAO's infamous 'I'm Sexy and I Know It' being blasted through the flat. "Sherlock!" she yelled, leaving her cup of tea on the side and storming through to the living room.
The sight that greeted her would never be forgotten. Sherlock, wig, heels and all was standing in the middle of the room, shaking his hips and attempted to dance sexily, failing miserably.
Eyebrows raised, Molly stood speechless for a moment, regaining her composure, as her husband-to-be suggestively winked at her and continued to dance. "What on earth are you doing?" she exclaimed when she finally managed to get her voice back.
"Deducing...no, seducing, you," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Staggering in his heels, he proceeded to attempt to remove his dress, stretching his arm behind him and grasping for the zip.
Not one to give up easily, when he was unable to reach the zip, Sherlock shrugged the strap off of one shoulder, squirming until his left arm was free. With his movement less restricted, he then retried unzipping the dress, this time managing to tug the zip down to the middle of his back.
Seemingly deciding that the dress was now suitably undone, he shimmied it down to his calves, a move that would prove disastrous.
As Sherlock attempted to cross the room towards Molly, the dress which was now binding his ankles together caused him to face plant forwards, landing in a heap on the carpet.
"Sherlock?" Molly giggled, walking towards the crumpled mound that was her fiance. Getting closer, she realised that he had passed out, and was currently unconscious, probably due to the copious amounts of alcohol consumed that evening.
The following morning, Sherlock awoke to find himself in a very uncomfortable position, face first in the carpet, his legs tied together by something. Slowly, the memories returned to him; the drinking, more drinking, returning home, attempting to dance sexily, and falling over.
Suddenly, a blinding light streamed into the flat, as Molly threw open the curtains. "Mo-lly!" Sherlock whined, as his retinas burned, and he burrowed further into the carpet.
"Morning sweetie!" Molly crowed loudly, causing his head to throb, signalling the beginning of a terrible hangover.
