To All Appearances
John had never expected to wear a bespoke suit, and certainly not one in such a vehement shade of purple.
"It's called lilac, John."
"It's called 'out and proud', Sherlock. And while I'm not trying to hide anything, I don't feel the need to advertise through my choice of wardrobe."
"You didn't choose it, you're in disguise, and therefore you haven't advertised anything."
"I love your logic." The sarcasm was thick as treacle.
"It's appropriate for the role you'll be playing tonight."
"Why couldn't you have been the designer?"
"Because you're far too short to play the model."
"Thank you so much." John adjusted his wildly patterned tie and then his (in his opinion utterly implausible) false moustache. "Lestrade owes us big-time for this job."
He took one last look in the mirror and stepped out of the bathroom. He'd not seen Sherlock's get-up before and it took him a moment to get over the shock.
The crystal-beaded gown skimmed Sherlock's body, the falsies he wore underneath suggesting fashionably malnourished femininity. His hair was up and chandelier earrings showed off his long neck. His make-up was, put simply, flawless. To all outward appearances, he--no, she--was a high-fashion model.
"Who would have thought it?"
John dared to risk smudging those gorgeous glossy lips with a kiss. "You're beautiful."