A/N In honor of Sherlock Holmes's 161st birthday and the start of filming of the Sherlock special *screams and throws confetti and sets off fireworks* a little entry to show I'm still here :)
"Are you sure you don't want backup?" John asked, standing outside the nondescript building.
"No, I think it's better if I do this alone," Sherlock answered with a small sigh. "Don't want to alarm them, now do we? Sending in the police and all that."
"Hmm, yeah, 'cause you're not alarming at all," Lestrade said sarcastically. Sherlock shot him a withering look before heading inside.
"Mind you, I wouldn't mind being a fly on that wall," Lestrade said to John after the detective left. "Sherlock and about thirty four-year-olds."
"He's usually pretty good with kids," John countered. "Something about how they make more sense than adults, he says." This was ridiculously appropriate; Sherlock was often nothing more than an extremely tall five-year-old himself. "He's probably in his element." John couldn't help the small grin that crossed his face at the thought.
"Well, he only needs to get a description anyway," Lestrade reasoned. "What convinced that bank robber to escape through a day-care center?"
John shrugged, "I don't know. Probably easier. I just hope one of the kids got a good enough look at him." They would be in for a hell of a chase otherwise; this was the only lead they'd had.
Lestrade nodded, then asked, "Want some coffee? We could be here a while."
"Sure, thanks," John said. He stood there, trying to keep watch and feeling very conspicuous in broad daylight outside a day care center. Once Lestrade got back, they sat on the bench outside, sipping their coffee, when Sherlock finally emerged from the building.
John took one look at him and started sniggering into his hand. "Sherlock, what happened to you?" Next to him, Lestrade was staring open mouthed. Sherlock sighed in a long suffering way.
"Did they crown you king or something?" Lestrade finally asked.
"What? Oh," Sherlock said, tearing the flimsy paper crown off his usually elegant curls. "No, they wanted to play...Pretty Pretty Princess, I think it's called? And there weren't enough crowns for everyone." Lestrade and John burst out laughing and Sherlock glared at them both, but his usual intimidation tactics didn't have the same effect, for some reason.
"It goes well with that," John said, pointing to the messy, bright red circles someone had smeared all over Sherlock's chiseled cheekbones.
"What, this? It was finger painting day," Sherlock said, trying to wipe the paint off and failing. "Apparently there isn't much difference between fingers and faces when you're four." His tone became long suffering, and he glared at both John and Lestrade as they kept on laughing.
"The glitter goes really well with the coat, I have to say," Lestrade said.
Sherlock looked down, taking in the sparkles that were all over his jet black coat. He brushed off his shoulders and sleeves impatiently, which did nothing to remove any of the glitter. "Yes, I know, it's all very amusing. When you're all done laughing, I did get a description, and it matches the leader of the Corn Hill Gang, just as I suspected. If we hurry now we might be able to catch him before he leaves the country." Neither of them questioned how Sherlock knew the robber would be leaving the country, but as he started down the street, Lestrade grabbed his arm. John was still laughing too hard to be of any use, leaning up against the building, trying to catch his breath.
"Hang on, you can't go after him now!"
"Why not?" Sherlock asked urgently.
"Look at you! You look like some sort of...vampire clown," Lestrade said, causing John to howl even louder with laughter. "If you go after any criminal now, you'll never be able to live it down."
Sherlock looked between them, his expression intense, the way it usually was during a case, which only made him appear more ridiculous, and Lestrade finally lost his composure and started giggling.
"Oh, for God's sake, Lestrade, you sound like a nine year old when you do that," Sherlock said irritably.
"Says the man in the clown makeup," John said under his breath, and he and Lestrade collapsed into giggles again.
"Yes, very professional," Sherlock said sarcastically "Fine, how do I get this stuff off so we can go do our jobs?"
"Hang on a minute," Lestrade said. "You don't think you're getting out of this without documentation, do you?" He pulled out his phone, snapping a few photos while Sherlock stood there looking annoyed.
"Are we finished? Good, let's go," Sherlock said, ignoring the stares he was receiving from everyone else on the street. "And I don't want to see any of those on the blog," he added warningly to John.
"Yeah, well, behave yourself and you won't," John said conversationally. "The next time I find a lizard in the cutlery drawer, those pictures are going up there for everyone to see."
Sherlock scoffed, "It wasn't that big a lizard!"
"It was poisonous, Sherlock!" John protested. Then he sighed, "Here," and started brushing silver glitter off Sherlock's shoulders. Lestrade shook his head, still grinning. This would be good for blackmail for years to come, as many attendees to Scotland Yard's annual Christmas parties would later attest.