Disclaimer: i don't own these characters

To Louise, hope it makes you smile :)

Definitions

Sherlock held out the suit. "Just put this on, we haven't got forever."

"Ok, just assuming I do actually wear this thing you brought me, and that I actually go to this party, which you claim is necessary because you admit defeat – "

"I do not," Sherlock interrupted. "I need an extra pair of eyes. Mycroft insisted I bring someone along since there are too many people and there will be too much happening at the same time for me to survey it all. "

The DI grinned. "As I said, because you admit you need help," (Sherlock decided to just roll his eyes this time) "and assuming they let me in... " "Of course they will," impatient this time. "Mycroft arranged an invitation for me, for us."

Lestrade eyed the suit. "Just wondering, why couldn't you drag John along to play hide and seek with this Moran character?"

Sherlock pursed his lips. "John made it very clear that if I ever were to get him to one of those… gatherings, or puppet shows as he likes to call them, again, I might just come home to find my mouse-blood experiment in a somewhat lesser state."

He broke into a grin. "And of course, John looks laughable in a tuxedo."

"And I don't?" Lestrade said disbelievingly. Sherlock looked confused for a moment, then just shot him a no-good-are-you-sure-you-want-me-to-elaborate-grin. Lestrade decided that, no, he did not want him to, and yes he'd probably get changed. There was no such thing as arguing with Sherlock when he was like this.

He shoved the genius out of his bedroom and tried the suit, expecting the sleeves to be too long, as they always were, the shoulders to be too tight, as usual. None of that. Lestrade's head popped out of the door. "This is tailored," he stated. Sherlock just quirked an eyebrow. "Yes?" Your point? "How did you know-" Two eyebrows this time. "Of course you would," Lestrade finished, muttering under his breath.

He fixed his tie, eyeing himself in the large mirror, as Sherlock watched him over his shoulder. His brow furrowed; assuming he did wear the suit, assuming he did go to the party, and they did let him in when Sherlock would probably just state, "He's with me," what did that make him?

Sherlock flashed him a smile, a rare and uncomplicated real smile. "Does it matter?" While Lestrade caught the shoes the detective threw him (the ones he had kept Sherlock-proof-hidden in the kitchen), he found that, no, it didn't.

This one just popped into my head while watching a movie a week or so ago, and refused to go.

Sydney, thanks for your lovely feedback everytime I throw these little snippets in your direction! :)