The exhibit was being sponsored by the Holmes Estate and included paintings on loan from a dozen museums around the world as well as the family's private collection. It was the largest collection of Vernet's works ever presented. Sherlock and Mycroft had bowed to Mummy's request that they attend the opening-night festivities. John had come along for the hell of it.
John stood staring at one particular painting. It was a self-portrait of the artist--a maternal ancestor according to Sherlock--leaning against a stove and smoking an improbable pipe.
"You've noted the family resemblance," said Sherlock, handing him a glass of champagne.
"You definitely inherited his nose," John agreed. "His feet were tiny, weren't they? I'm glad you didn't inherit those," he added with a hint of a suggestive smile.
"You realise there is no definitive correlation between a man's foot size and the length of his penis."
"You do take the fun out things, don't you?"
"Really, John." Sherlock almost looked affronted.
Sherlock huffed and took a sip of champagne. John seized the moment.
"I was really thinking what you'd look like with that moustache."
Sherlock choked on his Dom Pérignon, garnering concerned glances from a couple passing behind him.
John patted Sherlock on the back and explained in a hushed tone, "He's not used to the bubbles."