Sherlock was in the process of phoning Greg before John had even said anything. Like hell would he put his best friend in danger, especially with the private concert coming up.

"You ok?" John asked him as the brunet came to a standstill beside him. "Aren't we going in?"

"This case is old, it's unlikely that the Candy Man is still here. The person inside is probably just- Why are you smiling like that?"

John grinned up at him, wondering just how sentimental Sherlock had become. He wasn't going to put him anywhere near a risky situation, was he? The blond of course had to test that theory.

"Nothing. I just think we should go in and snoop around."

"The case is two years old, John."

The doctor shrugged. He knew what was up; he could see the smitten look from a mile away. Now to get Sherlock to admit it and just kiss him already. Being as sly as he could, he walked by his flatmate and 'accidentally' brushed his hand. The reaction he got was classic, a sharp breath in and sideways glance before a look down to his hand... John may not be as good at deductions but the flirting game was his forte.

Greg came striding up to them.

"What're you two doing outside the building with a suspect in it?" he asked teasingly, hiding a smile.

Sherlock sighed loudly. "The person inside the factory isn't a suspect."

Shrugging, Greg said, "Still private property, right?" He nodded to three teams who went into the building.

"How is my brother," Sherlock asked, irritated at Greg and John and hoping to get an amusing reaction.

"Just fine, I should think," Greg responded coolly, "He was actually asleep up until your text."

John rolled his eyes, muttering something about the Holmes' ability to not need sleep.

pbpbp

"Where are you dragging me now?" John asked Sherlock as he followed at a brisk pace behind the detective.

"We need to be dressed nicely for Mycroft's event."

"I always dress nicely."

Sherlock looked back, lifting an eyebrow in disgust. "That will not do." He had, of course, failed to mention that the event that Mycroft would be holding in two day's time was an Avril Lavigne concert.

It was noon, and John was already yawning. Being up early was something he hadn't done in awhile. They had visited Angelo's for breakfast around nine. Sherlock rarely seemed to need to stop and eat, but John was getting peckish.

"Can we stop for something?" he whined, feeling no shame as yet another yawn escaped him.

"What would you like to eat?" Sherlock asked quietly, taking John by surprise. The brunet rarely, if ever, asked what he wanted to eat. This solidified the smitten idea he had been working on earlier.

"There's a wurst shop right over there?" John pointed. A small German shop stood out amongst the usual pastry and bread shops.

"Whatever you want," Sherlock quickly caught himself before anything sentimental came out.

"What event are we going to anyway?" John asked as he munched happily on a bratwurst a short while later.

"You'll see."

"Will it be any fun or just Mycroft and those government goonies?"

"Oh John," Sherlock said mysteriously, "You'll like this."

pbpbp

A sleek black car pulled up to 221B two days later around six o'clock. Sherlock led the smartly dressed Watson to the car, even being as kind as to open the door for him.

"How rich do you think Mycroft is?" John asked on the way over, causing his friend to snort in laughter.

They arrived to Mycroft's 'humble' home quicker than usual, and John had to wonder what the hurry was. Once inside, he was ushered by an excited Greg to the bathroom.

"Here." Greg handed him a concert t-shirt. "Put this on."

"What? Sherlock said to dress nicely?"

"Just trust me."

And with that, Greg was off giggling to find Mycroft.

A few minutes later John left the bathroom sporting a slightly too large Avril Lavigne shirt, which proudly said "I don't like your girlfriend" in bold black letters. He looked at Sherlock, who was perched on a chair right by the bathroom, for an explanation.

"We've got a concert to get to," he responded.

"We... what?" This cleared absolutely nothing up for the doctor.

"Come along John" Now Sherlock was striding quickly away, towards the theater portion of Mycroft's house.

John set off after him, more confused than ever. Sherlock had been acting weird, now Greg was acting weird. Next he'd be seeing Greg and Mycroft making out at this show, right?

The stage of the theater was set up innocuously enough, a set of drums and a keyboard to one side, an electric bass and guitar to the other, and a microphone in the middle. Greg and Mycroft were holding hands standing in the pit. Sherlock nodded to his brother, who was just as dressed up as he was. Greg was wearing an Avril Lavigne shirt like John was.
The drummer, guitarist, pianist, and bassist each took their places. As the opening chords to "What the Hell" played, Avril Lavigne herself walked onstage, grabbing the mic and starting to sing.

"You say / that I'm messing with your head / yeah yeah / yeah yeah / all cause / I was making out with your friend / yeah yeah / yeah yeah / love hurts / whether it's right or wrong / yeah yeah / yeah yeah / I can't stop / cause I'm having too much fun / yeah yeah / yeah yeah"

John went wide eyed and stared at Sherlock.

"You said you'd kiss whoever got you tick-"

Suddenly their lips were crashing together as John pulled the taller man down to kiss. After a moment they parted, each breathless.

"No bloody way." John couldn't believe his eyes, ears, or the fact that he just kissed Sherlock Holmes. Greg had his arms up and was jumping to the music, and Mycroft had allowed himself to smile and tap his foot to the beat.