John's POV
"Eh, where's Sherlock?"
"Don't know, he said he would come by later, and told me to just head up,"
Suddenly, the door swung open. It was Sally Donovan.
"Freak's here, you might want to see this,"
Greg and I glanced at each other, and hurried out the room.
"What the hell?"
Greg, Sally and I stood and watched as Sherlock made his way down the hall, receiving some very rude comments from police officers and other staffs members, mainly Anderson.
Why?
Because Sherlock was wearing a dress, wig, high heels, and trench coat that he always wore.
Sherlock ignored the comments, and walked over to us.
"Sherlock- what the hell?" Greg said.
I grabbed Sherlock, and dragged him to the side.
"Oh, going in for a snog?" Anderson called over.
"Anderson- shut up," Greg said.
"Sherlock," I whispered furiously, "What are you trying to prove here?"
"Nothing John, this is who I am, and I have a right to dress how I want,"
He brushed past me, and said to Greg, "Walk and talk,"
I groaned, and followed them down to the morgue.
Sherlock's POV
I had guessed the case before I'd even seen the body or crime scene. I was probably right. I always was.
We entered the morgue.
"Oh, hello," Molly said, cheerful as always. She looked up, "Your…dressed like a woman,"
"Well of course I am Molly, please don't state the obvious, it's very boring, where's the body?" John shot me a look.
"No, I was just going to say, you look good," Molly giggled nervously, "Better than how I dress anyway,"
"Oh," I was shocked, "Thanks,"
I turned, and John looked away angrily. Lestrade just shook his head, "An experiment?" He asked-he hoped.
"No, Lestrade," I sighed.
Molly led us to the body. Ah, I was correct.
"It was the husband," I told Lestrade. He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Don't you want to see the crime scene first?"
"No, I'm right Lestrade, and you know it, now go and arrest him,"
I'd left the room before he could reply.
