Three weeks later:

John was running a little late. He rushed around looking for his cleanest pair of jeans and button up top. Tonight was the re-re- grand opening of Funny Girls, and Jones, who was making his debut had sent an e-mail along to John inviting him to come to the show for free as a thank-you. Not wishing to appear ungrateful, he accepted. Sherlock was lounging on their sofa, his blue house coat wrapped tightly around him. Either Sherlock hadn't been invited, declined, or accepted and forgot. That was fine with John he was just as happy to go alone.

"Going out for a bit, don't wait up." John said as he rushed passed and headed for the door, shoes in hand. The lump on the sofa only grunted in reply.

When John entered Funny Girls three performers were already on stage singing and dancing along to a catchy re-mix of Wild Thing. They each had on long platinum blonde wigs, white knee high Go-go boots and colour blocked Mod Dresses.

John made his way to the bar and sitting down ordered a drink. Looking around he was pleased to note almost every seat in the place was filled and many more people were up and moving to the beat. The lounge area was full and people were even standing along the far wall just to be in the room. When the Wild Thing girls finished there was a thunderous applause and they bowed several times before heading to the stage door.

Next emerged someone John recognized, it was the Daisy Duke Wannabe, only tonight his long hair hung in loose curls around his shoulders and he had traded the western look for a tight fitting Nurse costume. His partner followed him out on to the stage in an equally tight camouflage patterned dress with a long WWII coat over top. Together they sang You're still the one by Shania Twain, and then camouflage stayed on stage to do I am what I am solo.

John was thoroughly engrossed in the performance when a voice cut through.

"Aren't you worried about the preservation of your sexuality?" a deep baritone rumbled behind him, it made John's lip quirk up in a half smile.

"Aren't you worried about your, lack of?" John replied.

"Touché" Sherlock said taking a seat on the stool behind John.

"Actually I did have one bloke ask me to dance" John confided

"Oh?"

John didn't turn around to look but he could hear Sherlock's eyebrow rise in the pitch of his voice. "I had to politely decline though." John said in mock regret.

"What" Sherlock snorted, "didn't like the colour of his dress?"

John shook his head, "Nah," he said turning around "he had some stubble, it put me off. I like my date's clean shaven."

Sherlock rubbed absently at his own smooth chin.

"So, any ideas on who the new owner is?" John asked curiosity getting the better of him. The club looked the same as it had three weeks ago, same paint, same stools, mostly the same staff, and yet it felt different inside. It didn't just look warm and inviting, it felt like it. A safe haven where people could be whoever they wanted, and share that person with the world.

"No, none" Sherlock's voice had a faint note of surprise to it as if even he couldn't believe someone would buy the club after what they had discovered there.

Sherlock was wearing a pair of just pressed dress trousers and a purple dress shirt John had never seen before was buttoned up tightly across Sherlock's chest.

"New shirt?" John commented before taking a sip of his drink.

"Yes" Sherlock's reply was deep and slow as if he were explaining a complicated phenomenon to a very small child.

"I like it. It's nice" John said with sincerity.

"Thank you." Sherlock forced out the words one at a time and scrunched his nose as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

"What are you drinking?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject.

"Dry Vodka Martini with a lemon twist, shaken, not stirred." John had done something funny with his voice, then Sherlock realised he was attempting to impersonate Sean Connery.

When the bartender walked by Sherlock told the man, "I'll have what he's having."

…

John looked across the crowded room where he saw Jones' wife sitting with a number of his teammates. She turned her head just slightly and for a moment their eyes held. The look showed her thanks for them coming out to support her husband. She gave a little smile and turned back to her companions.

Looking around a little more John spotted Gertie in his same old Flight Attendant's uniform. He was seated with two older women, one of whom had to be his mother, his sister and three other blokes. One, John decided, must be Crieff's brother because he had the same nose as him and his sister. Of the other two men John wasn't sure, one was much older probably in his fifties the other couldn't have been more than thirty and was possibly the son of the other woman. He kept touching hands with Crieff then blushing furiously, would look away.

After two more performers, one of who was Minnie, wearing a new red and white polka-dot dress, Jones finally took the stage. He was dressed in a canary yellow 1920's flapper dress with a matching yellow and black feather boa. He put on a truly heartwarming performance to ABBA's Dancing Queen which was greeted with a standing ovation.

After another martini, and a few more sets, including a performance by Gertie and her two male companions they sang and did a dance to Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines, John was ready to leave when suddenly the stage was full of nearly all of the evening's performers. Jones was center stage giving a little thank you speech.

"Last, but not least, I'd like to thank Lola and Shirley without whom I would not be here tonight. If you're in the house I'd really like you guys to come up here for this."

John turned to Sherlock, "that's us." He hissed.

"I know." Sherlock replied.

"What do we do?"

"Remember to smile, have fun." Sherlock made a shooing motion at John.

"Oh no, not that again." John said rising from his chair, "If I'm going up there, you're coming with me."

John's strong hand gripped around Sherlock's wrist and pulled him up and towards the stage.

….

Sherlock allowed John to drag him across the floor. A spotlight highlighting their progress towards the stage and ensemble cast. As they squeezed between the people Sherlock imagined Mycroft sitting in a plush chair somewhere watching the surveillance cameras for the club. The thought made him smile; he would make sure his brother got his money's worth.

They were nearing the steeps when Queen's We are the Champions began to play.

"We are the champions, my friends,
And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end.
We are the champions.
We are the champions." -Queen

A/N:Thank-you so much for sticking through this epic with me, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Additional references I do not own belong to James Bond/ Ian Fleming and When Harry Met Sally. I will probably be adding a thing with "missing scenes" so keep an eye out for that. Just some stuff I wanted to write but couldn't actually fit in the story.

watch?v=U7_TOY0XSR4 this is the version of Wild Thing I have the dancer's dancing to.