Sherlock Holmes Picture Show
Title: Sherlock Holmes Picture Show
Characters/Pairings: No pairings, Sherlock, John
Warnings: Well...it is Rocky Horror so, transvestites? Is that warningable?
Summary: There are parts of Sherlock's past that John really doesn't want to know about...
A/N: Hey guys, I've decided to make my way into Sherlock FF since it's my obsession at the moment (both the ACD books and Steven Moffet's TV series (It amuses me that Word tries to correct Moffet into Muffin)) I made this connection the other day and it wouldn't leave me alone till I wrote it out. It's a mild crossover with RHPS (Rocky Horror Picture Show) and fairly crack!tastic and unbeta'd. Read at your own peril…
John dropped the shopping onto the kitchen floor,
"No Sherlock, It's fine," he grumbled to himself under his breath, "I'll carry the shopping in, you just lie there. For the third bloody day straight."
Sherlock had dragged the couch off the wall and in front of the TV and he was flung dramatically across the couch, legs dangling over the arm rest.
"Bored." He commented over the shouting TV. John sighed.
"Bored, bored, bored." He punctuated each word with a channel change, "BORED." He flung the remote over the back of the couch, it hit the floor with a clatter a few metres away.
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose trying to keep calm,
"What happened to that murder case, from Scotland?"
"Dull, the butler did it, Lestrad managed to gather enough brain cells together to figure it out on his own."
"What about the Prince that came to see you, what did he want?"
"He though his wife was cheating on him with his brother, she wasn't" John could almost hear Sherlock's eye roll, "it was his sister she was cheating on him with."
They fell silent; an infomercial for kitchen wipes came on the still blaring TV.
"Bored."
John put the chicken in the fridge with more force than necessary,
"For the last time Sherlock, body parts on the bottom shelf, I don't want stuff dripping on the food."
Sherlock grunted.
John grabbed a tea-towel and gingerly moved the severed arm down a shelf. He continued to unpack the shopping when he heard something odd,
"Sherlock, are you humming?"
"Yes, why?" he answered short temperedly.
"I didn't know you knew any songs that's all."
"A musical, I know a musical. The one musical I was in." Sherlock sat up, drawing his knees up to his chin.
John gave him a disbelieving look,
"Which one?"
"Rocky Horror."
John stared at him,
"You were in Rocky Horror?"
"Yes, mummy required Mycroft and I to do extracurricular activities, I got shepherded into acting. She wanted me to do Shakespeare, I did Rocky Horror to spite her." A weird smile twisted its way onto his face, "apparently I do a very good Frank."
"I don't see it."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and abruptly stood up and strode to his room.
John shook his head riding himself of the image of Sherlock as Frank, some things were best left alone, he went back to the shopping.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Half an hour later Sherlock reappeared, shrouded in a shiny black cloak, face adorned with makeup. John, who had finished putting away the shopping and was trying to write a new blog entry, looked up from his laptop.
Oh dear god…
Sherlock's laptop (which John swore wasn't in the room before) started playing music.
"How do you do.
I see you've met my
faithful handyman."
Sherlock stalked slowly towards him, artfully keeping balance in his heels.
"He's a little brought down -
Because when you knocked
He thought you were the candyman."
He stopped just short of John before he turned and started stalking away towards his armchair.
"Don't get strung out by the way
that I look.
Don't judge a book by its cover
I'm not much of a man
By the light of day
But by night I'm one hell of a lover."
John covered his eyes as Sherlock stripped himself of his cloak and let it fall onto the armchair behind him,
Oh bloody hell, he's got the full set up.
"I'm just a sweet Transvestite
From Transexual Transylvania.
"STOP SHERLOCK, I BELIEVE YOU." John shouted over the music and Sherlock's lines.
"Oh come now John, I was just starting to have fun." Sherlock complained but he paused the music.
"Could you put your cloak back on, please?"
Once more Sherlock complained but complied and John felt it safe to uncover his eyes.
"Wow Sherlock, the stage lost one hell of an actor when you took up detective work."
"That's what mummy said; my makeup is starting to itch, I need to wash it off." He disappeared back into his room.
John stared down at his laptop, still in shock; this was going to make one hell of a blog entry.
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