Lucky Man

The alarm on my phone sounded, telling me that it had reached half past seven. Sherlock was laying on my bed, flat on his stomach, his feet crossed in the air and his head propped up in one hand. He looked thoughtful. His eyes scanning my body's every detail.

"Sherlock, I said to think of something I can wear, not study my bloody anatomy!" I said impatiently, keen to get this over with.

He smiled cheekily, his eyes purposely looking my body over. I didn't understand what the fuss was about, I was stood in some new black Calvin Klein boxers, I wasn't stark bloody naked! I had just had a shower and gave my stubble another shave, Sherlock had chosen those to wear, which so far was the only thing he had helped me with.

"Sherlock!" I said in a louder volume, catching his attention. I put my hands on my hips, waiting for a response.

He smirked, "I'd say sorry..." he bit his lip and looked me up and down again. "But I'd be lying."

I couldn't help but smile back at him. "Riiight..yeah. Now what should I wear?"

"Something sexy."

"That's not very definitive."

He cocked a sarcastic eyebrow, closely resembling his brother. He showed no sign of offering any help or even moving, so I sighed and turned towards my wardrobe, my back to him. I pulled open the doors to it and saw my neat array of jumpers. I put a hand in, seeking a brand new navy blue one that seemed less casual than my usual attire.

"No jumpers, John."

I looked over my shoulder. "Why not?" I asked incredulously. I loved my jumpers.

"James Moriarty is a materialistic show-off. His idea of 'sexy' is a well tailored suit from an expensive designer." he said flatly.

I couldn't argue, that was a sound explanation (even though to me, my jumpers were the only garments that could even slightly flatter me).

"You look good in everything, not just knitwear John." He had read my mind. "Look to the far left-hand side, you'll find your clothing for tonight there."

This made me very curious. So as instructed, I looked to the far left of my wardrobe. There was a suit hanging there, obscured by a collection of various jeans and trousers. I pulled it out, confused by it. I had never seen it before. As I retrieved it delicately, I turned to face back towards Sherlock, closing the wardrobe doors behind me.

The suit was well tailored, the material felt nice and shimmered in the light. It was dark grey colour, tailored to fit in a slim style. The pocket had a black handkerchief folded neatly out of it. Underneath the suit was a crisp white shirt and a black tie fastened loosely around the coat hanger. I had to admit, it was very nice and incredibly fashionable to say the least.

I was confused as to who had purchased it though, Sherlock perhaps? He knew about it, so he obviously had something to do with it, but I doubt he purchased it himself, Mycroft practically groomed him. Ahh, Mycroft. Regardless of who purchased it, I wasn't sure how I felt about having clothes bought for me without my say (or about how they managed to get a perfectly tailored suit without me giving them my measurements, gits). I saw the edge of a price tag slip out from underneath the jacket and I looked at it, my brow furrowing. I could see Sherlock shifting slightly in my peripheral vision. The label read:

"Gieves & Hawkes

NO1 Savile Row, London

£2,500.00"

My mouth fell open in shock. A suit from Savile Row? The best tailorers in the world. For two and a half grand... what the bloody hell?

"Savile Row?" I exclaimed, unable to believe how ridiculous this was. I was annoyed at the Holmes brothers for being so silly.

"...John" Sherlock moved slowly off of the bed, looking cautious.

"What the fuck Sherlock? Two and a half grand for a bloody suit?"

"No, two grand. Mycroft got it cheaper." He said it as though this were your average mates-rates kind of deal, as if Mycroft didn't have some massive power-play.

I clenched my fist a little, not feeling right about all of this. Sherlock came closer, taking my hand and unclenching it, entangling his fingers with my own and squeezing gently. I could feel my anger dispersing at his touch.

"Moriarty needs to see the effort you've gone to in order to impress. It's part of the plan!" he reassured me, his voice sweet and gentle. He kissed my head lightly. "Now go do your hair and get dressed."

I sighed, lying the suit neatly on the bed. Sherlock left me to get into it and arrange myself. I took some hair product from a side and looked into the mirror, I combed it and parted it neatly, noticing how it had gotten a lot longer. The increased length of it really made the sandy-blonde colour stand out, which enhanced my appearance. Which was actually quite refreshing as for once, I felt good about myself.

I then slipped the suit on after applying some expensive aftershave, it was some present from Harry that I hadn't gotten around to using since the many christmasses ago when she had given it to me. It smelt fresh and slightly sweet in a pleasant, masculine kind-of way.

Finally, I buttoned the suit and the cuffs, adjusting the black tie neatly. I got my polished black brogues from the bottom of my wardrobe. I slipped them on, quickly grabbing my phone, keys and gun. I concealed the firearm where I usually did and I checked the time. Fifty-eight minutes past seven. I switched off my bedroom light and closed the door.

I drifted into the living room gracefully, I felt incredibly comfortable and confident. Mrs Hudson was dusting the bookshelf, chatting away to a bored-looking Sherlock who was stationed in his chair. They both stopped in their tracks and swivelled their heads slowly, to turn to look at me.

I will never forget the look on Sherlock's face. He looked so shocked, so delighted, so... aroused. He looked adorable and sexy at the same time and his eyes were wide with desire.

"John, you look so very, very handsome!" Mrs Hudson cooed, giving me a hug and pinching my cheek a little. She liked to mother "her boys". She then noticed the unbroken eyecontact between me and Sherlock and casted several confused looks between us, before a light-bulb seemed to ignite in her head.

"Fuck. Me. You look.. delicious." Sherlock just managed to get his words out, his eyes were literally burning with desire and I could feel my cheeks flush a little pink.

Mrs Hudson looked positively delighted, incredibly happy that the penny had finally dropped. "Finally!" she exclaimed, beaming at us both. We chuckled, though Sherlock sounded a little breathy which I had to try and ignore. Mrs Hudson pulled me into another hug before rushing downstairs to answer the door. I don't think Sherlock and I had even acknowledged that the door had been knocked. We just stared at each other, our eyes fixated. I wanted him so badly that every fibre of my being was screaming at me to pounce on him, but I couldn't. I had to stay focus and push away my um.. hormones. It was good that I did too, as Lestrade and Mycroft appeared at the doorway and paused in suprise. Lestrade wolf-whistled and I winked at him.

"Thanks for the suit Mycroft, you really shouldn't have." I said smiling at him.

"I think speak for all three of us, when I say it was an absolute pleasure."

All three men were staring at me simultaenously. Lestrade nodded in agreement with Mycroft and Sherlock darted a strange look at Mycroft, which caused Mycroft to roll his eyes. A jealous look?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, distracting me from those three. They began chatting, sitting themselves down. I pulled out the device and saw that it was now five past eight. There was a message that read:

"I'm outside, so get your sexy arse here now! JM x"

I sighed a little, straightening my posture before bidding farewell. My gaze lingered on Sherlock for the longest. I gave Mrs Hudson a kiss on the cheek and proceeded downstairs. I was keeping positive thinking of all the people I cared for up in 221B at that moment. I smiled widely.

And just before I closed the door, I could've sworn I heard the words "You're a lucky man, Sherlock Holmes." I laughed a little and closed the door.

I could see a black Audi q8 2012 and knew that it would be Moriarty. He was certainly a flashy man. And probably not just flashy in a material kind of way, if you know what I mean. The passenger seat at the back opened and Moriarty was leant across, having opened it. He watched me intently as I walked towards him, I jumped into the seat next to him and shut the car door.

The car pulled away from the curb and I looked at Moriarty. His face was like a child's in a sweetshop.

"I'm very lucky man tonight." he said, smiling his cheshire-cat sized smile which was slightly scary.

I then found myself wondering how tonight would end, fantasizing about what would happen when I return to Sherlock tonight, because if what I had in mind happened.. I'd be the lucky man.