The December 4th prompt as assigned by Ennui Enigma: Watson reveals a secret talent.
Saying anything more would spoil this lovely piece…
"I find facial hair to be quite distinguished, don't you, Sherlock?"
Sherlock crossed his arms, looking at his brother in amazement. "Perhaps, on some people, Mycroft."
Mycroft Holmes looked his brother over with a slightly amused expression. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, brother mine, that facial hair is not for everyone."
"I happen to think that it looks quite handsome," said Mycroft, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the coffee pot.
"That is open to interpretation," said Holmes dryly. "In your case, however, it looks a quite ridiculous. Why did you feel the need to color it like that?"
Mycroft stroked the coal black mustache that clashed horribly with his greying hair. "Don't you think that it makes me look younger, Sherlock?"
"If that is what you call younger, I weep for the future of humanity. Don't you realize that it looks like you fixed a dead animal on your upper lip?"
The elder Holmes brother drew himself up as though his posture alone could prove the younger brother incorrect. "I beg to differ, Sherlock. Just because you have no sense of style. Your flat mate sports an elegant mustache and I've never known you to complain about him."
"That is because facial hair suits Watson. You on the other hand…"
"It suits him?" echoed Mycroft. "How can you be so sure? How do you define 'suits' him?"
"The good doctor understands how to keep such a thing neat, tidy, and good looking. In any case, some people look better with such things than others."
"Would you prefer that I shaved it off, Sherlock?" said Mycroft, crossing his arms.
"I must admit that I would."
Mycroft got to his feet, pulling his jacket straight. "Very well," he said with an expression of boredom. "Then I will not subject you to the sight that is the 'dead animal' on my upper lip."
"Thank you, brother mine."
"What happened?" Mycroft Holmes wanted to know as the door to the flat closed so that he was alone in the hall with the man who had just exited the flat.
Watson pulled the large jacket from his slim figure and handed it to Mycroft, picking up the layers of padding that fell on the floor as he did so. "I rather think that this went much better than expected."
"He didn't suspect anything?"
Watson grinned. "No, Mycroft, I don't believe that he suspected a thing."
Mycroft chuckled quietly, one eye on the door of the flat to make sure that his brother was still inside. "Well done, Doctor," he sniggered.
Watson looked pleased with himself as he continued to pick up the padding. He began to move up the stairs so that he could change into his own clothing, looking back at Mycroft with an expression of triumph. "That was a rather entertaining experiment, Mycroft."
"Oh, Doctor," called Mycroft. "Don't forget to wash the dye out of your mustache. It really does look like a dead animal."