Just a holiday themed short, not really chapter length but still good! Enjoy!
Believe it or not sometimes (despite various scowls, sarcastic comebacks, and other rude attitudes) the infamous crime solving duo of 221B did get invited to parties, even Scotland Yard's annual Halloween bash. Of course Sherlock found the whole thing ridiculous claiming he "rather avoid any sort of social interaction" and that "dressing up and coercing candy from perfect strangers is not how the pagans wanted their holiday remembered." However John liked having a day off to just chat with friends, a day when they were normal blokes going to a party and not chasing down killers or dealing with a consulting detective sized tantrum. Which is why he always managed to convince Sherlock to come anyway, and this year he'd even convinced him into a costume.
"Are you finished yet?" Sherlock's groan carried from where he stood in the hallway right outside the bathroom, and John rolled his eyes with a sigh. He was currently in front of the mirror, battling with a pair of prosthetic pointed ears and something called spirit gum. He'd never done such an elaborate costume before but borrowing a few odds and ends from Sherlock's disguise kit helped. For a man with a million and one costumes you'd think Sherlock would be more excited about Halloween.
"You don't rush perfection." He snapped back, and he heard Sherlock chuckle. "Are you even done with your costume?"
"I've been done." Sherlock replied, and John heard his footsteps grow nearer. Soon the detective was standing behind him and John gaped at what he saw reflected in the mirror in front of him.
As usual the detective still wore his black trench but the blue scarf had been omitted this time. On his exposed neck John could see where facepaint had marked out patches of a deep red scale pattern which grew and spread onto the man's sharp cheekbones and curled up to his hairline. Sherlock's eyes were concealed behind golden contact lenses which contracted his pupils to make them look almost feline, and protruding from his hair (John had no idea where they were attached) were two red crooked horns. The most impressive bits were the cape like wings that were folded over Sherlock's shoulders and the plumed tail that curled around his feet.
"Wow...I feel...very outdone." John whistled looking down at his own medieval clothes and the curly wig he had yet to put on. Even if Sherlock thought holidays were childish and distracting, he certainly had no trouble constructing a costume. Where had he even gotten the materials for those wings?
Sherlock put a hand on John's shoulder, and the doctor noted that Sherlock had gone so far as to draw more scales on his pale hands. The detective pressed a hot kiss to John's neck and smirked.
"There there, little burglar." He teased. "After this party, you come back to my den, understood?" Sherlock purred.
"Why yes, Smaug the terrible." John laughed. "So long as you don't terrorize people at the party tonight."
"I make no promises." The dragon-detective replied curtly, before stalking out of the room with his tail slithering on the ground behind him.