Sherlock's Costumes: Away With The Fairies

*-*-*-*

John felt utterly ridiculous.

"I really do hate you, you know that, right?"

"You've said" Sherlock smirks "Eleven times now" He adds chuckling softly.

John growls, glaring at the stupid, smirking detective.

He's a fairy, for God's sake! Dressed as a damn fairy. At least, he thinks, he has pretty, sharp (fake) daggers and his gun (real) tucked into the back of his tutu. It didn't stop him feeling ridiculous. Seriously, did he have to be a fairy?

This case was important. He knew that. And Sherlock had looked so excited when he babbled on, telling John about their new client, that he just couldn't say no when Sherlock said they'd need to dress up.

They were currently at a live action roleplay. Females from a fairy tribe had been being killed during the events and in a moment of desperation, and worry for his his daughter's life, the 'Fairy King' had contacted Sherlock. Asking him to take up a role and find the killer without causing too much commotion. The event organisers wanted everything to be kept on the down low and a private detective was the perfect solution. 

So John didn't mind too much. If he had to dress as a fairy to save lives, so be it.

Plus, Sherlock looked petty good in his costumes. A war elf.

John takes a moment to look over the detective as he rambles on about the case. 

He had a long brown coat/cloak on that reached his ankle, just skimming the floor. His 'armour' was a darker shade of brown and with his hood up, you couldn't see much of his face. All you could see were his cold (beautiful) eyes and the blood red war paint that was covering his cheekbones in two thick stripes. On either side of his hips were slings, a menacing dagger in each (also fake).

He couldn't currently see it but John knew Sherlock's arse looked as fabulous as ever in those brown leather leggings. Although, John definitely preferred the tight 'club jeans' as he'd dubbed them.

"Done checking me out yet, John?" Sherlock asks in that rumbling deep voice of his.

Despite his rapidly growing blush, John smirks as he runs his eyes up from Sherlock's toes to his eyes. "Not quite" He answers, throwing a wink at the detective.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, but he's smiling.

It had been nearly four months since The Sadistic Ex case and Sherlock was now no stranger to having John's eyes running over him. Nor was he a stranger to the way his pulse increased when John did so.

Sherlock would often share at John, rather openly, and countless flirty comments were exchanged. The hints were far from subtle and even Anderson had noticed the changes.

Neither of them, however, seemed to have the guts to take it further than looking and overly suggestive dialogue.

They both saw the other looking, obviously interested in more ways than one, but they did nothing. Idiots.

"Right!" Sherlock claps is hands, almost bouncing with excitement. "Let's go! People to see, a killer to catch, fun to be had"

He's out of their tent in flash of brown.

John rolls his eyes, adjusts his tutu, and follows after Sherlock with a smile.

*

"Ah.. So you're Mister Holmes..." The princess fairy smirks, her tiara's ruby shining with the same pride as her smile.

"Uh, yes" Sherlock nods, clearly not up for sham flirting for the sake of a case. He hadn't forgotten the way the killer from the Gothic club had shoved her tongue down his throat. 

He slides back, looping his arm with John's as he gives an obviously forced smile.

Her eyes light up in realisation as she looks between the two men. John finds himself blushing at the fact she thought they were a couple. They basically were, of course, with all the flirting and the fact John had cut dating and women from his life. But still. It was both embarrassing and frustrating that they weren't a couple. That it was just pretend.

John wished he had the nerves to just kiss the man on his arm. Sherlock's thoughts were along the same lines as the women continues to look between them.

Eventually, she introduces herself as the Princess (earning two eye rolls from the 'couple') before she shows them around the site and the places the bodies were found. Eventually she takes them to an odd shack were they find the bodies laid out for examination, surrounding by flowers and shells and candles. John was tempted to ask if this was more than a roleplay for the people here.

It seemed more a way of life.

She gives all details she can, only getting tearful over a ginger female who was covered in blue body paint.

Sherlock goes about his business, learning all he can from the bodies and occasionally informing John on things. It's clear to them both that the fake weapons used on site, which contained glass in the middle, were being used to murder the young girls.

There was a strict no stabbing action rule. You were supposed to hit another person with the side of your fantasy weapon, as a stabbing action could cause damage. As shown by the bodies before them.

Before long John finds himself stood at the side of the playing field or whatever they call it. Sherlock was scanning the area, picking out members of each clan.

They're were five main clans. Hundreds of people were in a clan. Arms bands, with a logo, separated them. The Fairy King was leader of the Deer clan. The name was no reflection of the fierce and frankly dirty ways they fought.

The clan wasn't all fairies, of course. Throughout the clans, the races were mixed. The only consistent factor of the clans were their armbands. Within clans there were families and tribes and so on.

The Deer's rival clan were called the Tiger's. These were the two largest clans, each having over one thousand members.

The other clans were not much smaller and the rivalry hadn't formed because of power. According to the Princess, the first leaders had simply taken a dislike to one another and it had just developed from there.

John often found himself wondering if these people could tell the difference between reality and fiction. The way the Princess had describe the rivalry had sounded so raw and hateful that John didn't find it hard to believe that their roleplay tension leaked into their real lives.

A group of giggle girls snap John out of his thoughts as they circle Sherlock and him, their grins far too predatory for John's liking. John finds himself leaning against Sherlock as the purple glittery vampires/cats got closer.

"No armbands?" One asks, voice silky with a clear seductive note.

"We could use a few more males..." drawls another, voice as equally sexual.

Without warning, Sherlock's warm hand slides into John's.

"We're together" Sherlock says, voice firm and stubborn.

The females weaver slightly before they catch the dumbstruck way John was staring at their entwined hands. Sherlock squeezes, pulling John away from wherever his mind had wondered. John snaps out it and squeezes back, looking up and giving an affirming smile.

They didn't buy it. John wasn't surprised.

"Prove it!" One snaps.

Without hesitation, it seems, Sherlock swoops in on John, their lips meeting in a kiss that was immediately heated and in no way chaste. John doesn't have time to be shocked before he's leaning into Sherlock, moving his lips against the others with the same level of desire and intimacy.

Sherlock's lips are surprisingly soft and yet unsurprisingly firm and full against John's. Sherlock pulls John's lower lip between his own, biting down on it gently. Once again, there is no hesitation as John parts his lips for the detective's hot tongue.

Sherlock takes his time in mapping out John's mouth, first with a slow pace as their tongues dance and then he switches, without warning, to a demanding pace that all but imitated sex at it's most rough and exciting.

His hands were everywhere; the small of John's back, his shoulders, his waist, his hair, his neck, his arse, even under his top and on his hip. Everywhere.

John felt like someone had stroke a match and set him alight.

When they pull back, their both breathless. Their eyes meet, both darkened with the sudden rush of desire, and for a moment John's brain just crashes. He forgets all about the women, the case and their current situation.

His hand slides onto the back of Sherlock's neck and he pulls him down for another kiss, already addicted to Sherlock's maddening lips. The detective happily kisses back, his hands settling on John's hips and tugging him closer.

When they pull back the next time, their panting is worse and both of their cheeks are flushed. Sherlock eventually forces his eyes away from John, glancing around them.

The women had disappeared.

Sherlock detaches himself from John and tugs on his wrist as they begin walking away, towards the hut's of the Tiger clan.

"You have my war paint on your face" Sherlock informs as they stroll past the first huts.

John doesn't say a word about the kiss, following behind Sherlock and wiping his face as his heart fills with hope. Maybe being forced into something neither of them had the guts to do would be good for them.

John could only hope.

*

"Who did you sleep with last night?" Sherlock asks the pale man before them.

John frowns at that. So far, all of Sherlock's questions that been about the clans, the rivalry and the weapons. The doctor had no clue where Sherlock thought he was going with this line of inquiry. He just hoped it didn't end with a bloody nose for Sherlock.

The Tiger clan member, David, who they were interviewing, scowls at Sherlock.

"If you're trying to suggest I.. kill after I sleep with a woman--"

"No, no" Sherlock shakes his head. "Someone is trying the woman you've been sleeping with, though. Someone in your clan, at a guess"

John almost sighs at how much information he'd not been told. Sherlock rarely stops to explain, always being able to show off that way.

David's eyes widen "My God... You're right.. All of them..."

"So" Sherlock smirks "I ask again, who did you sleep with last night? I assume it was a member of the Deer clan"

"Well" David blushes. "There were two. A Deer and then a Tiger"

John's eyebrows raise at that. He didn't seem like the type to sleep around so much. A different girl every week, fine, but two in one night? All John could say was Bravo.

"We're just interested in the Deer" Sherlock deadpans, not commenting on David's lifestyle choices.

"The Princess..." David trails off, frowning. "She's next..."

Sherlock was nodding slowly when a scream pierces the silence surrounding the hut they were currently in. There a tense moment of silence where looks are exchange between the three men before Sherlock springs into action, racing out of the tent with John hot on his hills.

When they emerge there are few people around but none few fazed by the fact someone had just let out a scream. John realises that screams and cries of pain where the norm around here, extra leverage for the murderer.

There's another scream and Sherlock sprints off in the direction of the sound, weaving between the huts and not looking back to check for John. The doctor removes his gun from the back of his pink tutu as he does his best to keep sight of Sherlock.

Not only did Sherlock have ridiculously long legs that allowed him to go five times faster than John but his all brown outfit just made it harder for John to see him in the dark. Running around at 3am did not help someone trying to look for something.

It wasn't long before John lost sight of the nimble detective. John was so busy trying to figure out which way he went and cursing under his breath that he didn't notice the short man dressed in black until he was crashing into him.

They stumble and fall to the ground, the other man falling on top of John. The man quickly rolls off the now winded and groaning doctor, mumbling apologises at a rapid pace.

"It's alright" John manages, pushing up into a sitting position to give the kneeling man a smile.

"Are you okay?" The man questions, tilting his head and offering a small smile as his hand tightens on the handle of his fantasy sword.

John's eyes flicker down to the movement and when he spots the splashes of crimson red on the end, he looks up and smiles back like he hadn't seen the blood. John pushed himself forward, making out he was preparing to stand and then, in one quick targeted movement, he launches himself at the man and pins him to the floor before he can so much as react.

John removes the handcuffs from under his tutu and flips the helpless man over, cuffing him and kicking away the bloodied sword.

The ex-soldier hauls the murderer to his in much the same way he did injuries men during his time in Afghanistan. As he pushes the struggling man towards David's hut, he pulls out his phone as uses one hand to text Sherlock.

Somewhere among the huts, Sherlock text alert rings out, demanding attention, but it goes ignored as Sherlock holds the dying girl in his arms.

There no time for her now. The kind of treatment she needs wouldn't be here for thirty minutes and it'd be too late.

She was going to die, and as Sherlock looked down into her teary eyes h could see the acceptance.

"Tiger..." She wheezes.

Sherlock nods. "I know. I'll bring him to justice"

"Thank you..."

Soon after the words pass her lips, her purple painted eyes slides closed and her body goes limp.

*

Everything was explained in John's blog. Except the kiss, of course. Neither of them had mentioned it. It seemed they were just going to ignore it. For now.

The murderer had been a Tiger clan member, David's younger brother, and he wasn't happy to find out his brother had been sleeping with their rivals. So, like any other insane individual, he decided to take matters into his own hands and kill the young women.

The Fairy King had given up his throne and gone home, back to his job as a fireman, and John had a strong feeling that he wouldn't be returning to the roleplay fields anytime soon, if ever.

The others on site had been informed of current events. John worried, once again, that few them were able to separate the fact from their fiction.

He lay awake the next night, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how his life got quite this odd.

He smiled at the thought of Sherlock being the one to turn his life upside down and sideways.

Naturally, his mind wondered to the kiss. He had no idea what to do about it. Does he mention it? Repeat it?

One thing was for sure. John definitely loved the cases where Sherlock had to dress up, even if it did mean he was in a luminous pink tutu when they shared their first kiss.

Sherlock was also awake that night, playing a soft tune on his violin as his mind goes over all the facts from the case. His mind, much like John's, continuously looped back to the kiss.

The detective found himself smiling like a fool as the tune picked up, turning into a quick excited beat.

He, too, was a fan of his costumed cases.