~*~This load of crack and fluff came courtesy of two late hours of Facebook Messaging with the lovely lady Kat. A little of the dialogue came directly from her, and I built the story around it.
Musical Muse: Sherlock episodes and the *bloop* of Facebook Chat alert.
Warnings: No actual swears I don't think (shock!), just excessive crack and fluff.
Disclaimer: You may recognize these characters. They're not mine.
Much love and adoration to beta-riffic Kat!

~*~Hair-Gel for Sociopaths~*~

John usually avoided Sherlock's washroom at all costs. He'd peeked in there in the first week he moved in, and was horrified at the sight of…things that didn't belong in washrooms. Creeping growths and tied plastic bags hiding under socks and something in the bathtub moved on its own. John swore to stay away from that place if at all possible, and, for the first year, he was successful.

In fact, he was willing to state that even Sherlock avoided his washroom most of the time. That wasn't to say Sherlock was unclean in any way; he was actually fastidious about his appearance when he wasn't bored or overly involved with a case. Sherlock's personal hygiene was usually in direct opposite with the condition of the flat.

It just seemed that Sherlock preferred to tidy up and take his showers in John's washroom rather than his own. After Mrs. Hudson had fled screaming from the room after a fruitless attack with cleaning supplies, John could understand the avoidance. Sherlock only ventured into the mysterious depths when he had a special and specific need. The horrendous washroom was where he hid the accessories for altering his appearance.

The first time Sherlock burst from his room as a ginger, John nearly had a heart attack. That was one of the only times he saw Sherlock laugh on his own violation, deeply chuckling at John's stunned expression. As his partner explained, between jumping around the living room stealing one of John's suit jackets and a pair of shoes, he had enough disguise materials hidden away in various places to become several other people, who all had different personalities and backstories. John had already observed Sherlock's ability to change his voice and character at a moment's notice, and therefore wasn't overly surprised at the lengths Sherlock would and could go to hide himself.

"You must have been a wonder in your school's theatre group."

"My understudy tried to poison me. Twice."

So Sherlock occasionally dyed his hair in his possibly inhabited bathtub and waxed his eyebrows in the name of uncovering the truth. He even walked out caked in makeup on more than one occasion. It was…mildly disturbing.

So when Sherlock emerged from the depths of his lair with his mad curls tamed, gently slicked down by careful application of gel, one lock allowed freedom to caress the tall pale forehead, John was expecting some sort of adventure into the upper crust of the criminal world. That was Sherlock's standard 'look' for that sort of situation.

Sherlock flopped rather dramatically onto the couch. After a minute of serious ceiling admiration, he clambered over the back of the sofa and hit the floor with a thump. From there, he straightened, pulled his violin seemingly from thin air and began arranging a mash-up of Beethoven and Mozart.

Okay, so maybe no crime-solving today. So then why the hair-gel?

John watched his flatmate's antics from his spot in his chair, becoming increasingly bemused. It was a nice harmless assumption to think that Sherlock was preparing for some occasion later that night, but that wasn't the way Sherlock worked. He would get ready and immediately depart; there was no loitering around the flat while in disguise.

He could ask Sherlock, but the tense lines under Sherlock's wear-around-the-flat button-down (he always dressed sharply when he wasn't bored) discouraged him from interrupting the flowing music. They weren't stressed-tense, simply distracted-tense.

He could do his own investigating, go poking around in the slimy pit of Sherlock's washroom, or explore the empty wasteland that was Sherlock's mobile for clues about the different situation. He didn't expect that it would give him much to work with.

There wasn't an immediately present case to work on, so he had no other explanation for the appearance of product in his partner's hair. He was terribly curious now. He just couldn't accept a simple solution at this point on their relationship. Sherlock wouldn't put product in his hair for no reason.

Sherlock paused his aimless musical antics to write something on his sheet music, so John decided to just bite the bullet and go for it. "Sherlock?" he asked, and received an answering 'hmm?'

"You have product in your hair."

"…so I do. Good observation."

"Why do you have product in your hair?"

"Is it important that you know?"

"No I'm just…curious."

Sherlock turned around. On any other person John would say the expression on his face was confused, but Sherlock didn't get confused. At least, not about things like hair products, John hoped. "I do not have product in my hair. It is just gel."

"It's still a hair product."

"Your point being?"

"Well, I seem to recall you implying that only gay men put product in their hair."

Sherlock paused, perhaps sensing a trap, or wondering if John was trying to trick or tease him.

"So now you are implying that I'm gay because I happened to put gel in my hair today?"

"Well, if I knew why you had gel in your hair, then maybe I wouldn't be implying that." John was trying his best not to smile or even start laughing, but it was difficult. Sherlock was almost getting defensive about this. Did he truly believe John wouldn't notice? John may not obsessively catalogue information in a half-second, but he did notice when things changed.

"I am not…homosexual. I am a sociopath."

"You can be a sociopath who puts product in your hair, but you were the one who said gay men put product in their hair. Is there any connection here or not?"

Now would be a bad time to have Sherlock think he was being serious, and not joking. Sometimes John wasn't sure if his partner could tell the difference. Sherlock was eyeing him like he was still trying to figure it out, so John smiled at him as nicely as he could. He received an analyzing look in return, before Sherlock tentatively smiled back.

"You should work on your humor a bit more John. Your observational skills were a bit better in this situation." Sherlock didn't sound angry, but still not exactly comfortable. At least he wasn't throwing-objects angry. John's smile turned sheepish. "It was a joke Sherlock, just ignore it." He picked up his laptop and started it, wanting to distract himself with his blog. Sherlock stared at him a few moments longer before fiddling with his violin again.

"I put product in my hair because it helps to keep it under control. It is getting quite long these days."

"And I suppose sitting down for a haircut would be much too tedious?"

"You supposed correctly. And I was interested in seeing if you noticed or not. I did not know you'd make the assumption that you did."

"It was a stupid joke Sherlock. Delete it already!" John was so incensed that he typed his login password wrong. Sherlock just smiled and played an arpeggio before he commented, "It was not an entirely baseless assumption either."

"What?" Shocked, John tried asking for clarification, but Sherlock was playing Brahms now, and there would be no stopping him. It was his cue that he no longer withed to talk, so John dropped the matter.

But in the days that followed, John couldn't help but notice the gel was making a routine appearance, until John seized an opportunity to hold a wounded Sherlock down and gave him a proper haircut.

~*~ Much love to those who review. Hope you liked it!