robots need love, too. They want to be loved by you. They want to be loved by you.

[uninformed]

"I want you in my bed in five minutes wearing the deerstalker and only the deerstalker."

I laugh and laugh. And then I laugh some more. Internet, I love you.

Also: I got myself a copy of Young Sherlock Holmes, settled myself in for Terrible Fanfiction: The Movie, and the copy I'd acquired wasn't in English. My life is hard. I wish people labelled

Comments

[uninformed]

I probably shouldn't be allowed to make English after 9pm either :)

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You Can Leave Your Hat On; or Three People Who Do Not Get Laid While Wearing the Deerstalker (and One Who Does)

03

Before wrapping it, Donovan pops their thank-you gift for Sherlock on Lestrade's head in a manner that could (and probably should) be considered wildly insubordinate. "Look at that, you're Sherlock Holmes!"

Anderson snickers over his paperwork from across the office. "Shorter, and much less of a prat, though," he offers.

It takes effort not to laugh, but Lestrade manages it, instead pulling off the deerstalker (so the clerk in the shop told him the hat was called), and returning it to Donovan. "Get that wrapped before the press conference," he orders, trying to pretend he has some sort of control over his staff. "And you," he points his pen at Anderson, "try to remember that that prat is the only reason we solved the case in the first place."

The two scurry back to work, properly chastised, and Lestrade can't help but wonder if maybe the gift is going too far across the line between friendly jibes and outright mockery.

02

"You look," John pauses to look for the right word, then settles on "ridiculous."

"Stop it. Be quiet."

John complies, but the look on his face speaks volumes. Sherlock pulls off the ridiculous piece of headgear and tosses it across the room like the death frisbee he suspects it is.

"Stop it," Sherlock orders again.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. Your face is loud enough all on its own. Stop it."

John does try to school his expression, though Sherlock can still see the amusement crossed with indignation on Sherlock's behalf written all over his flatmate's face. It's because of the indignation that Sherlock lets it lie.

01

It takes only an hour of friendly chatting in the evening before Mrs. Hudson reaches the point of tipsy where she takes The Hat (as Sherlock has dubbed it) from its home on the skull and places it upon her own head with a girlish giggle.

"My, Sherlock, you must look just dashing in this thing."

"No, he really doesn't," John offers, unhelpfully handing their landlady a copy of the Daily Star with Sherlock's face half covered by The Hat on the front.

She studies it for a long moment, turning the picture from one side to the next with slow deliberation. "I don't know," she says finally. "I think he looks all right." She puts the offending paper down with a grin. "How do I look?"

"Terrible," Sherlock speaks up immediately, since they're finally off the subject of him, and on to a subject he's willing to contribute to.

But from the look on her face as she pulls The Hat off her head, he's said something not good again and he doesn't quite know how to fix it. So he picks up his violin and plays until the discomfort passes and Mrs. Hudson looks irritated by his racket instead of sad.