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John had just pulled out a tray of cookies out of the oven when the postman came with deliveries. He put the tray down on the counter and paused at the front door.
"Don't touch them yet," he warned. "You're going to burn your mouth again."
"O ye of little faith," Sherlock sulked. "Just go."
John chuckled, but did as instructed and went down to pick up the delivery. He signed for it and then walked back up the stairs carrying a couple of packages. He had now started taking care of any parcels whenever Sherlock decided to do some online shopping too.
It felt like as time passed, his job description kept expanding.
“Whatever you ordered is here,” he said to Sherlock. He opened the parcel to ensure it wasn’t anything dangerous or sinister and stared at the small box within.
He took it out and opened it, staring at the silk tie inside.
“You don’t strike me as someone who wears ties,” he said. “Is this a gift?”
“Hm.”
“Not for Mycroft?”
“Hm.”
John shrugged and put the box on the coffee table. It wasn’t any of his business. He opened the other one and saw it was from a fashion accessory shop that he had heard about. He opened the box and looked inside.
"Is this for the tea?" John asked, picking up the fascinator and inspecting it. It was pastel-coloured, a mix of lilac and pink. It looked like a small hat, but with a rose on the side, as well as small feathers and bouquet fillers.
The week before, Molly had dropped by their flat to coordinate their dresses for the high tea.
"What dress? I'm not going to dress up," Sherlock frowned. "What's the point?"
"Please?" Molly pleaded. "I want to dress up but I don't want to dress up by myself."
"It might be a good change of pace," John said. "Dressing up for free food instead of a case."
"And who knows, maybe somehow your dressing up will still lure out criminals."
Sherlock sighed. "So? What are you wearing for the tea?"
She had decided on a knee-length chiffon dress and so had picked out something similar from his wardrobe for him. She also had found out about the race day and the fascinator (Mrs Hudson had taken a picture of Irene and Sherlock before they left, and John suspected that Molly and Mrs Hudson somehow texted regularly, or there was a group chat that the two were part of), and wanted to try wearing a fascinator too. The tea was a good excuse for it, so she somehow roped Sherlock into wearing one too.
"If anyone asks, I agreed to this under duress," Sherlock said.
"Lies. You like being pretty," Molly giggled. "I'll help you pick out some new shoes too. You said you wanted some flat shoes, right?"
So the two spent the afternoon browsing various shoe shops online, and after she left, he apparently went and ordered a fascinator. John had thought he already had one. Maybe he did and he just wanted a new one. Either way, it was fine.
He put the accessory back in the box and went to check on the cookies.
"Milk," Sherlock called out.
John put a couple of cookies on a plate and poured a glass of milk, carrying them back and setting them on the coffee table.
"What present have you brought for me today, Santa?"
Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion, and John simply laughed.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The day of the tea arrived, and Molly came to their flat to help Sherlock style the wig and do his makeup.
Well, she said 'help', but really she was the one doing it and the other two just watched.
"Maybe I had aspirations to become a makeup artist or hairstylist," Molly hummed as she pulled the hair into a loose bun at the bottom, where the nape would be, and used bobby pins and hairspray to keep it in place. "I was thinking of a French braid, but maybe for next time."
"Next time?" Sherlock frowned and the two ignored him.
Once she was done with the hair, Molly instructed Sherlock to sit on the armchair. She placed Sherlock's makeup bag on the coffee table and began going through it.
"You're letting her put on your makeup?" John asked.
Sherlock lifted a brow. "Who do you think taught me in the first place?"
"Ah. Of course."
John busied himself with cleaning the kitchen while Molly did Sherlock's makeup and then helped him with the dress. Not long after, the two walked out of Sherlock's room, all ready to go.
"This might be the first time I've seen you dress up not for a case," John said.
"Oh, can you take a picture of us?" Molly asked, handing her phone to John.
"For the group chat?" John guessed.
"Not sure what you're talking about," Molly grinned, and John just laughed.
He took a picture of the two and after Molly approved of it, they went out to get a cab.
“Aren’t those new?” John asked when he saw Sherlock putting on a pair of flat shoes. He didn't have any before so it must have been the new one he ordered that just arrived yesterday.
“Yes?”
“Have you even broken them in?”
Sherlock shrugged and went down the stairs. John sighed.
He went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and put them on the coffee table, grabbing a couple of adhesive bandages and putting them in his wallet before he joined the other two downstairs.
The cab ride didn't take too long, and soon they found themselves at the shopping centre. The tearoom was located at the top floor of the shopping centre, and since they still had a bit of time before their booking, they went to a makeup store first.
John opted to wait outside and watched as the two walked around the shop, looking at the different products and talking to a sales assistant. He noticed another man walking towards the shop too, looking inside, and spotting whoever he was looking for, stood to wait next to John.
"Waiting for your girlfriend too?" he asked.
"Something like that."
The man looked at where John was looking at. "Which one is yours?"
"I'm the taller one's."
The man hummed. "Lucky man."
As if sensing their gazes on him, Sherlock turned to look at them questioningly. John shook his head, so he shrugged and turned his attention back to Molly and the sales assistant.
Not long after, Sherlock turned again and beckoned at him, so he went inside and approached them.
"Do you need something?"
"Listen to her and remember what she says," Sherlock said.
The sales assistant snorted. "You help her with her skincare?"
"Oh," John sighed. "Yes. She's too lazy to--ow, hey," he complained when Sherlock elbowed him. "You don't even need it, you just want to be pampered."
"There's nothing wrong with that," the assistant said. "Everyone needs a bit of pampering now and then, right?"
Molly nodded in agreement.
"I didn't say there is," John chuckled. "Alright, so tell me what these are for and how to use them."
When they were done, the two left with a bag of purchases. John offered to carry the bags for them, and the assistant kindly put a sticker on Molly's so they could tell which bag was whose easily.
They made their way to the top floor where the tea room was, and walked past an electronics store on the way. One of the items displayed near the front was a tv showing the news channel. They paused briefly to watch the news, and it was of a robbery at a nearby jewelry shop that just happened the night before.
"How dreadful," Molly said. "I guess gold and jewelry shops are targeted more than others because they have a lot of high value items inside."
"Most don't keep the valuables in the shop," Sherlock said. "Could be an inside job."
"Do you mean like an insurance fraud?" Molly asked.
"Not necessarily," Sherlock said. "It could be people who work there and know where the valuables are stored overnight, or they didn't do the closing procedures correctly and left the valuables still in the shop. That is riskier, though probably easier to commit if they plan to leave town."
"And likely means they didn't work alone," John said. "It's unlikely the shop will only have one person in charge of it."
Molly hummed. "Oh, it's almost time for our booking. Let's go."
They continued on their way and stopped to go to the restroom on the way. John held onto their handbags for them too so they didn't have to.
"Thank you," Molly said as she handed her handbag to John. "I should drag you two out with me more often."
"You mean drag John with you," Sherlock huffed.
"Well, he's not going anywhere without you, is he? Other than to the shop, I mean," Molly said. "You two are kind of a package deal, after all."
While waiting, John checked his phone to see if there were any messages. He heard someone calling out but ignored it, until that someone repeatedly called out. John turned when he realised there was no one else there and saw a balding, hulking guy standing on the other side with a smirk on his face.
"Nice handbag!"
He glanced down at Sherlock's handbag in his hand, on the side that was visible to the man. It was a custom-made leather handbag, with enough compartments to store everything he might need, and enough hidden compartments to hide the lockpick, the utility knife, and other things he might need too. John had commented once that it felt like carrying a brick around and suddenly felt bad for one of their targets who got the handbag to the face.
John turned back to the man and grinned. "Thanks, it's real leather."
The man immediately scowled at him, possibly trying to decide whether he was being naive or deliberately obtuse, but before he could say anything else, Sherlock walked out of the restroom towards John and he was shocked into silence before he left.
"What did you do?" Sherlock asked. "Why was that man looking at you?"
Molly joined them after and shook her head. "Ignore him," she said. "He's probably one of those who think carrying their woman's bag is girly or makes them a loser."
"Hm."
"Honestly, men," Molly grumbled, and the two stared at her.
"You do remember you're out with men right now, right?" John asked.
"Well, yes, but that's not what I mean," Molly said. "You probably would buy the tampons for Sherlock if he needs them, so you're not one of those I'm talking about."
“Why would I need them?” he asked. “And if I actually need them, I can buy them myself.”
“From where? You never go to the shop.”
“Hm. Fair.”
They arrived at the tea room, and once their confirmation was confirmed, was led to a table inside. The tea room was ornately decorated. It had a really high ceiling and there was a chandelier hanging in the middle. There were mostly women there since the event was targeted to women, although some groups had men too, so John didn't feel quite out of place.
During tea, Molly watched John in fascination. She had heard of him before she met him, and when she finally met him, she knew that they could entrust Sherlock to him, but it was still interesting to see them interact with each other for an extended period of time.
Throughout the tea, he would keep an eye on Sherlock's plate. Whenever Sherlock ate the food placed on it, he would pick another from the tray, something that Sherlock would eat, and if Sherlock went too long without food, he would gently tap the back of Sherlock's hand, as if a reminder.
He also kept Sherlock's tea topped up and warm, filling it up with steaming hot tea when it cooled or when Sherlock got halfway through the cup, to ensure it was hot enough to enjoy but not too hot to burn his tongue. When they got a fresh pot of tea, John kept an eye on his watch and took the leaves out at exactly the three minute mark to ensure the tea was at the strength Sherlock preferred.
"Hey, Sherlock," Molly said.
"Hm?"
"How do I find my own John?"
John chuckled. "Am I a catch?"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. "You're the one fishing for compliments now, you hypocrite," he said accusingly, and then turned to Molly. "Don't answer that."
John laughed. "Is petty one of your middle names?"
"Hmph."
"Honestly, though, unless you pay for it, I don't think you can find someone who does as much as I do," John mused. "Being with him is a full-time job in itself, and my job description keeps expanding. If I have to hold down another job, I don't think I can do everything I want to."
"Oh? But I am not to expect any less from you, aren't I?"
John chuckled. "That's why I'm glad this is my full-time job."
Molly giggled. "You're like his butler, aren't you?"
All of a sudden, silence fell upon the table. Sherlock stared pointedly down at his cup, John sighed, and Molly looked at the two with wide eyes.
"D-did I say something?" she squeaked.
John shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. She didn't know what happened, after all, and it was meant to be a teasing comment.
Molly used her eyes to plead with John to do something about the uncomfortable silence. John felt bad for her, so he cleared his throat and turned to Sherlock.
"Is it hard?" John asked.
Sherlock looked down at his own lap, then back at John with a raised brow.
"You know that's not what I'm asking about, you brat," John chuckled. "Is it hard changing your voice like that? It's impressive that you never slip, but I heard it could be straining to your vocal cords."
"I appreciate the concern, Doctor," Sherlock smirked. "But no, it's not too bad. It's not like I changed the pitch by a lot."
Just then, one of the staff approached their table to remind them that their booked time was coming to an end and check if they needed anything before they left.
As they walked out, Molly lagged behind slightly to walk next to John.
"Did I say something wrong?" she whispered, looking anxious.
"No," John said. "Well, there was... a sensitive case involving a butler, but I'm sure he knows you didn't mean anything by it."
Molly pouted. "I'm sorry."
"You couldn't have known. He knows that too, so don't worry about it."
"Did no one tell you it's rude to talk about people behind their back?" Sherlock asked as he turned to look at them. "It being literal didn't make it better."
"Sorry," Molly grimaced.
Sherlock shook his head. "It's fine," he said. "As he said, you couldn't have known."
"Oh, look. It's a public piano," Molly said, trying to change the subject. "Anyone can play it if they're confident enough, I suppose."
John chuckled. "Let me try," he said. "Maybe I still remember."
Sherlock and Molly watched curiously as he sat on the bench, pressing some keys to test them, then started playing a song. Some people stopped to watch as well, although most of them only paused briefly before continuing wherever they were headed.
When he was done, the few who stopped to listen clapped for him and John smiled and thanked them before rejoining the two.
"Nuvole bianche," Sherlock mused. "I didn't know you play."
"I don't," John said. "That is the only thing I know how to play."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Someone just told me how to move my hands and I just... memorised it, I suppose."
"Your muscle memory is better than I thought."
John chuckled. "Is that a compliment?"
They left the shopping centre and decided to wander down the street nearby, browsing the shops there. Not long after they turned into the street, they heard someone shouting.
"Thief!"
A dark blur ran past them and the three looked at each other.
"... is this the power of your dressing up?" Molly asked.
John passed the shopping bags to Sherlock and ran after the thief. Sherlock, Molly, and the woman who yelled out after the thief ran after him.
They caught up with him as John was pinning the thief down on the ground. He looked back at Sherlock who nodded, then quickly knocked the man out. As he stood up, Sherlock glanced over at the woman and John nodded before walking back towards Molly and the woman, standing a step behind them. He pulled his phone out and discreetly sent a text.
"Oh, thank you," the woman said, walking over towards Sherlock to grab the duffle bag, but Sherlock moved it away from her.
The woman frowned. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Give me my bag."
"No," Sherlock said. "It's not yours."
"What are you talking about?" she scowled. "Of course it's mine! He stole it from me!"
"I suppose if you want to be technical, it is yours," Sherlock said, "but only half of it. Isn't that right, Miss Jewel Robber?"
When the woman snarled and lunged at Sherlock, John was quick to hold her back and pin her arm behind her back. She kept struggling to break free so John wrapped his forearm around her neck, putting her to sleep and letting go as soon as she was unconscious. He laid her down next to the thief and they thankfully didn't have to wait too long for Lestrade to come, having been summoned by John's text.
"What's going on here?" Lestrade asked.
"We got your robbers."
"How did you know?"
Sherlock scowled and John laughed. He knew how much it irritated the detective that they managed to catch the robbers by pure coincidence.
He recounted the incident to Lestrade and explained how he figured out they were the robbers.
"The bag is plain and black, a bit at odds with the way she dresses, isn't it?" Sherlock said, motioning at the woman who was wearing fashion sunglasses and a leopard print jacket. "It's also surprisingly quite heavy, which is why the 'thief' couldn't run fast and John caught up to him easily. I believe we have found your robbers; they were at a disagreement in how to split the spoils, the man tried to run away with the jewelries and she accused him of being a thief, hoping that someone would catch the 'thief' and return the bag to her, which she then will go off with."
"Ah," Lestrade nodded. "So it was just a coincidence that you got them."
Sherlock scowled harder and John and Lestrade laughed.
"I wonder, does this count as being for a case, in the end? But it's not related, right?" John said. "And it wasn't like you specifically dressed up to catch these guys."
Lestrade then looked at the two. "Were you two on a date?"
"No," Molly said. "Sorry, I was there too."
"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there."
"That's okay," Molly said. "And maybe it could be. I did say I'm okay with third wheeling if they're okay with it too."
“Well, alright, go on then. I’ll take them to the station. You go enjoy the rest of your day," Lestrade said as he handcuffed the unconscious robbers.
Sherlock jumped up at that, always excited when he didn’t have to deal with paperwork, and was about to drag John away when Molly spoke up.
“You don’t need our statements?” she asked and expertly ignored the glare Sherlock threw at her.
“It can wait until tomorrow. It would be a waste of you two dressing up nicely,” Lestrade said, patting Sherlock’s head, but careful not to mess up his hair.
“I’ve dressed up before.”
“For a case, not for a day out,” Lestrade pointed out. “Just take advantage of me being nice to you today.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” John laughed. “You know he will take advantage of it every day.”
“Shush, John.”
Before they left, John helped carry the robbers to the police car, and that was when he noticed there was something different with Lestrade that day.
“Hm.”
“What is it?”
“You don’t usually wear ties, do you?” John asked as he stared, wondering why it looked familiar, then remembered having seen it recently.
“Oh. Yeah, I usually don’t. Is it too much?”
“No, it’s not,” John said, glancing at Sherlock. “Whoever picked it out must have good taste.”
“Are you seeing someone?” Molly asked.
“Ha! No, but it is a gift from someone quite special,” Lestrade said. “Alright, I’m going. You kids behave yourselves.”
After he left, the three continued wandering down the streets, checking the different shops. After their third stop, John noticed something was wrong when he realised Sherlock was walking slower than usual.
"I'm sorry, but we should be heading back now," John said.
"Do you two have plans?" Molly asked.
"Not exactly," John shook his head. "This brat didn't listen to me and his feet are probably killing him."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise," Molly said, looking down at Sherlock's shoes. "Are those the ones you just bought? You should have broken them in first, you know."
"Yes, yes, I get it."
"Alright, be careful on your way home," Molly said. "We'll go out again someday."
"Whatever. You're going to drag us along even if we say no anyway."
Molly smiled at them innocently and John only laughed at the lack of denial.
They went back to the main street and found a cab home. Sherlock started complaining about his feet as they were heading back, and John carried him up the stairs and into the flat before depositing the petulant man in the armchair and slowly taking his shoes off, wincing slightly at the early hints of blisters near his little toes and the bleeding raw skin near the achilles tendon.
"I told you to break in new shoes first," John sighed, putting the shoes away and picking up the first aid kit he already left on the table. "Have you learned your lesson?"
"Depends," Sherlock grumbled. "What lesson am I supposed to learn?"
"Not listening to John is a bad idea."
"Then no, I haven't."
John snorted. "Brat. Lift your left foot."
John rested Sherlock's calf on his knee and gently dabbed a cotton ball soaked in iodine over the raw skin. Sherlock hissed in pain at first contact, but otherwise didn't show any hint of being in pain.
"Tell me about your work."
"Hm?" John glanced at him, then back at the foot. "What about it?"
"What did you do before?"
"Ah," John sighed, bandaging around the ankle before moving on to the blister. "You know there's not much I can say, even to you."
John set down Sherlock's foot gently, then tapped his knee. "Right foot."
The other foot didn't move and John looked up at Sherlock with a raised brow, only to find the detective sulking again.
"I don't like not knowing."
John sighed, lifting Sherlock's foot himself, resting the calf on his knee again. "Is this about the piano thing?" he asked. "I told you I don't play. I had to attend a function for a mission and was taught to play it so I could pretend to be the live musician they hired."
"Just one?"
"Yes, only while waiting for the speech to start," John said.
"Hm," Sherlock hummed. "What kind of missions were you on?"
"Depends, really. I was... maybe the closest thing to call it would be a subsitute? I picked up missions when the usual agents couldn't do it for whatever reason or when there was no one else to do it. I mainly get sent to protect people and neutralise threats, with deadly force if necessary, or to eliminate troublesome ones."
John finished bandaging Sherlock's right ankle and applying cream on the blister, then put his foot down gently.
"Jealous?" he teased.
"Should I be?"
John chuckled. "No," he said. "You shouldn't."
After all, he hadn't chosen any of his missions, but he chose Sherlock.
Maybe that was why Mycroft agreed to the request easily? Because that was the first time John asked for anything.
"Did you learn how to give massage for a mission too?"
John snorted. "What kind of missions do you think I do?"
Sherlock shrugged.
"No," John said. He stood up and walked around the back of the sofa, resting his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and slowly kneading them. "When I was a medical student, I lived next door to an elderly Chinese man. He was quite knowledgeable in tui na, and asked me if I wanted to learn. I think he just wants to have someone give him a massage for free under the pretense of practice."
Sherlock snorted. "And then you decided to--" John moved his hands up his neck and onto his scalp, and his words were cut off by a low, appreciative hum. "And then..."
"I took some short courses on remedial massage and head massage," John confirmed, slowly rubbing circles and even lightly scratching Sherlock's scalp, watching his face to see if he pressed too hard. "I can't massage my own back, and massaging my own scalp takes a bit of adjustment, but I think it has served me well."
"Mm..."
"Good?" John teased, rubbing circles in his scalp, near his temple. "Want to continue this in bed?"
Sherlock slowly blinked his eyes open, staring at John, then smirked. "Pervert," he said. "But yes, let's continue this in bed."
"Can you walk?"
"I'm not crippled."
John chuckled. "Lead the way then, Mister Holmes."