A/N: Sorry for the wait! As always, please read and leave a review :)
"This is a ridiculous idea!" Sherlock's voice drifted through the wall to the lounge, producing a fit of giggles from Molly, Mary and Anthea, who were sat in the lounge, waiting for their partners to emerge from the bedroom where they were currently getting ready.
"Just hold still a minute!" replied the exasperated voice of John Watson, the long-suffering best man. It was Sherlock's stag do, and Molly, Mary, Anthea and Mrs Hudson were waiting impatiently to see the boys off, cameras at the ready.
A few weeks earlier, John had revealed his plan for the evening to everyone, to the horror of Sherlock and Mycroft, the slightly milder horror of Greg, and the amusement of the women. John had decided that all of the men would dress in drag for the stag night. When questioned by Sherlock, he denied doing it simply as a photo opportunity for his blog, and instead insisted that it was a social convention which Sherlock was simply unaware of.
When Sherlock had continued to argue with him, he was swiftly reminded of the awful job he had done of organising John's stag do, silencing him on the matter.
Now, the men were all getting ready for their night out, hence the various exclamations from the bedroom, as pins were shoved into scalps, and zippers caught on flesh.
Finally, the bedroom door opened, and the four men entered the lounge, to be met with the hysterical laughter of the women, and a blinding flash of cameras.
First came Mycroft, dressed in one of Anthea's old dresses, a tight green number, a brunette wig, and a heavy layer of make-up. Greg followed, in a black PVC dress and fishnets, completed by a leather jacket and blonde wig.
Next was John, wearing a purple, sorry, lilac dress used by one of the bridesmaids at his wedding, and a bright ginger wig, slightly resembling Daphne from Scooby Doo. Finally, Sherlock skulked out of the room, his pouting only emphasising the bright red lipstick he wore. He was wearing that dress, white heels, and a red scarf, looking thoroughly miserable.
"Oh, Sherlock, that lipstick really brings out the colour of your eyes!" Molly sniggered.
"Where on earth did you get that dress?" Mary wheezed, doubled over with laughter as she pointed at Greg.
"It wasn't me who bought it!" protested Greg. "It was my Secret Santa present last Christmas, so I thought it should get a bit of use at last!"
After they had been photographed to within an inch of their lives, they were allowed to leave, Mycroft almost falling down the stairs in his heels.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully for the girls, with them sitting round planning their hen night, until Molly's phone rang at almost midnight. Looking at the caller ID, she was unsure whether to be scared or amused by the fact that Sherlock was the one calling her.
"Hello? Is everything ok?" she asked tentatively, although she didn't have to wait long for a reply.
"Molly!" came Sherlock's voice on the other end. "My Mol – Molly – Mollypops! Fiancé... path-path-dead-person-cutter-upper!"
Torn between laughing and sighing at her soon-to-be-husbands antics, Molly held the phone away from her ear and spoke to her friends. "He's completely drunk," she said, and was greeted with laughter from them.
Returning to the phone call, she heard another voice. "I am the British government, did you know? I'm very important," Mycroft mumbled. "I'm practically the queen – I mean king."
"Yes, yes, Mikey, you're very special," Molly giggled. "I'm coming to pick you all up, so don't leave the pub. Promise?"
"We promise Miss," John piped up in the background. Then the line went dead, as one of the men hung up. Turning to her friends, Molly couldn't help but laugh.
"Has everyone got their cameras?" she asked, as they all got ready to leave.
When they arrived at the Nag's Head, they were greeted by Lestrade, who showed them his police ID, attempted to arrest them for "being too pretty", and then promptly fell over in his heels. After helping him up, the group made their way to the bar, where Sherlock was proudly introducing himself as "Sheryl Holmes, consulting thingamajig" to anyone who would listen, accompanied by John who was wearing a sign that read "I'm a pretty lady." Mycroft appeared to have sobered up a bit since the phone call, and was looking rather embarrassed as he sat sipping from a glass of water.
In years to come, whenever the boys stepped out of line, all the girls had to do was mention the "stag night incident", and suddenly they all went quiet and apologised, desperately trying to avoid its retelling.
A/N: Sorry Sherlock, I do seem to keep embarrassing you, but it's just too funny to resist!
