I'm going away for a couple of days, so here's a chapter to keep you amused. Lots of love to all, especially the lovely reviewers.
Note: I read a fic recently with this motif in it, and thought it could be highly amusing. I would credit them, but I have no idea who it was! So many thanks mysterious stranger.
C is for Cross Dressing
It had been a peaceful couple of weeks; Sherlock had been too engrossed in a case that was a 9, and then recovering from said case to bother Molly out of hours. She was enjoying a rare evening at home alone, while Tom worked some overtime, glass of wine in hand and a good book. She'd almost forgotten how relaxed it was, she'd been able to talk about her day with more words than, fine or good, or Sherlock nearly caused an outbreak of anthrax. Toby, her exceptionally fluffy ginger cat was a very patient listener, and didn't mind the gory details. Molly sighed to herself a little; it was not a good sign when you preferred talking to your cat over your fiancé. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and turned her attention back to the book in hand. Before she could find her position on the page John rang,
"Molly, Sherlock should be coming through your door in approximately five minutes, please don't scream, or laugh, it's for a case." He said nervously,
"Ok… I'll see you later then?" Molly asked, assuming John would be picking Sherlock up.
"Yeah, I don't suppose Tom is there?" John
"He's working late; he should be back within the hour though." Molly
"Right, I'll try and get Sherlock out of there before he gets home." John replied, trying to impose damage limitation
"Thanks John, bye" Molly laughed softly as she hung up. Whatever was going on was going to be interesting to say the least. She heard the key in the lock and turned around to greet her guest.
"Have you still got my wigs?" Sherlock asked, no time for even his minimalistic niceties it would seem.
"Hang on," Molly said answering her phone,
"Hi honey, we're done sooner than we thought, I'll be home in 20 minutes" Tom said happily, looking forward to spending a quiet night in with his future wife.
"Ok," Molly hung up quickly "I think they're in the top of the airing cupboard," She continued, wigs were not a good start to her evening.
"Right, to work." Sherlock removed his shoes and swept off towards the cupboard, he chose a long brown wig, and disappeared into the bedroom. A few minutes later and Molly received her summons,
"I need you to zip me up," Came the gruff shout
"You what?" Molly tried not to blush too hard, she could only think of one garment of men's clothing that had a zip, and where it was.
"Come in here," He barked, she opened her bedroom door to find Sherlock Homes stood in a dress, a short red dress, and sheer black tights. She couldn't quite believe what she was seeing,
"Stop gawking Molly, time is of the essence, I need you to zip me up and do whatever it is you women do with make-up." He said flippantly, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
"Why couldn't Mary do it?" Molly asked, still unsure as to whether she'd accidently taken some hallucinogen.
"Mary has John, who was less than compliant when I explained what would need to be done." Sherlock's tone of voice was terse; he'd had to agree to something he really didn't want to do to get John to join him.
"What case could possibly justify this?" Molly picked up her make-up bag and brushes,
"That's what he said!" Sherlock exclaimed, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to ask your best friend to dress up as a woman in order to solve a crime.
"Well?" Molly wanted a reasonable explanation; she knew she had a better chance of getting one now than after the case was done.
"We've uncovered a large underground network of sex-slavery, which involves going undercover as a crossing dressing couple. Mrs Hudson must never hear about this." Sherlock surmised; his landlady (not housekeeper) had an already unhealthy obsession with his and John's relationship.
"Obviously." Molly rolled her eyes and began applying foundation to his very pale face. It was a good job her complexion required the lightest tone of make-up, or he'd be looking quite orange by now.
"I don't suppose you have any glitter?" He asked once she'd finished. He wasn't the most attractive woman, but it would do.
"Possibly somewhere," she shrugged, hunting through drawers she hadn't been in for quite a while.
"Hi Molls, I'm home!" Tom called as he walked through the door, Molly winced,
"Dinner's in the microwave, just put it on for 2 minutes," She replied, keeping her voice as level as possible
"Ok, where are you?" Tom asked, her book and wine were on the coffee table and a pair of man's shoes were by the door.
"In the bedroom," She answered shortly,
"Why?" Tom was pretty sure who the shoes belonged to, but he wanted to be sure.
"You don't want to know." She called back, mildly exasperated. Tom had seen enough odd things recently, he didn't need this too. The doorbell rang, breaking the silence in the flat, Tom opened it with a sense of trepidation, you never knew who was going to pop up when Sherlock was around. Luckily it was only John; Tom had come to appreciate the way the doctor tried to apologise for Sherlock's oddities.
"Hi Tom," John smiled a very forced smile and strode into the flat, "Sherlock we've got to go!" He shouted,
"I know, not my fault Molly's taking so long to find the glitter," Sherlock huffed, Molly's cries of objection followed shortly,
"Come on Sherlock, it's bad enough you've got us dressed up like this, hurry up!" John said impatiently, trying not to fall over in the ridiculous heeled shoes he was wearing.
"Fine," Sherlock barked, storming out of the bedroom.
"Looking good ladies, let's get you a cab, shall we?" Greg stood in the doorway grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"If this ends up on the internet, I will kill you, you included Mycroft." Sherlock declared no one doubted it. After they'd all left, Tom looked utterly bewildered
"What am I supposed to say to that?" He asked, his sense of a comfortable, normal life slipping away at a rate of knots.
"Just eat your dinner." Molly sighed, taking a large gulp of her wine.