Sidney Sussex and I both did our own take on 'Sherlock and the bow tie'. I hope you enjoy it!

If you haven't read Sidney's 'To tie a tie', it's brilliant. It's in my favourite stories, I made it easy for you. I'm that kind ;)

Disclaimer: don't own the characters.

Tie

"Put this on."

Sherlock caught the ruffled fabric Lestrade threw him, and eyed it suspiciously.

"It's a bow tie," Lestrade elaborated.

Sherlock sent him a glare. "I can see that."

"You're supposed to wear it." Lestrade couldn't quite keep the grin from forming on his face.

Sherlock decided not to dignify this with an answer, and moved towards the large mirror at the other end of the bedroom, his slender fingers toying with the piece of cloth.

Lestrade left the room and busied himself with the remains of his latest try at cooking a proper meal. He had given that up soon enough, after finding some rather convincing evidence of Sherlock's latest experiment lingering in the frying pan. He preferred Chinese anyway.

After fifteen minutes of silence in the other room, Lestrade's brow furrowed. Silence, he had come to understand, wasn't good. He peered into the bedroom, and couldn't help but smile.

In front of the mirror stood Sherlock everyone-else-is-an-idiot Holmes, an expression of utter concentration covering his features, fiddling with the bow tie. Lestrade quirked an eyebrow.

Sherlock's face contorted in frustration as he let out an exasperated huff, muttering silently to himself. His massive mop of curls tamed for the occasion, the lanky form wrapped in a slightly oversized tuxedo, the man looked younger than ever.

Lestrade simply looked at him, a strange feeling settling firmly in the pit of his stomach. What kind of a father would not teach his youngest son to properly fix a tie… He shook his head. He had learned not to ask.

He crossed the room, nudged the clumsy fingers away and tied the thing properly. Sherlock just looked at him, his expression unreadable, before averting his gaze, focusing on Lestrade's hands fixing the tie, absorbing the deliberately slow movements.

"There," Lestrade stepped back. "Let's go."

Sherlock gave him a blinding smile, grabbed his coat and dashed out of the room. Lestrade just smiled. "You're welcome."