"Don we now our gay apparel"

'John!' Sherlock calls, clattering up the stairs and charging through the door, a garish 'thing' clutched in both hands.

'It's a good job Hamish isn't asleep,' comes John's slightly grumpy response. He's sitting at the kitchen table chopping vegetables and keeping one eye on Hamish, who is ensconced in his swing in the living room, blue eyes fixed on the Winnie-the-Pooh figures dangling from the toy bar.

'Yes, I suppose,' Sherlock says, unperturbed, as he kisses John's temple and then darts over to Hamish, dropping to his knees and pressing voluble kisses to Hamish's bare fingers and socked feet.

'What did you buy?'

Sherlock looks up, face alight with enthusiasm, and holds the thing out. When John just shrugs he sighs and starts pulling it on, at which point John has to fight not to burst out laughing.

'I-Is that a p-papoose?'

'No, John, it is not,' Sherlock retorts, apparently confused as to why John would find the sight of him wearing anything rainbow covered amusing. 'The term papoose properly refers to a Native American form of swaddling. This is a baby carrier. A three way baby carrier. You can wear it as a back pack too.'

'Excellent,' John chokes out, wiping the tears from his eyes, 'and if we get lost in fog we can use you as a beacon.'