Sherlock advent drabbles :D

Today's word is: Runway

Behind the scenes, things are frantic. The place is bustling with models and make-up artists and fashion designers. It's really not John's sort of place at all, despite the swarms of beautiful women.

Sherlock just stalks right through the middle of it.

"Are you sure Moriarty's going to be here?" asks John.

"You read his message," says Sherlock, looking behind clothes rails and under tables. "He can't have meant anywhere else."

"Excuse me," huffs a very flustered looking woman as Sherlock pushes past her, "are you even supposed to be here?"

Sherlock ignores her.

"Sorry," calls John, as they move away. "We're just..." He gestures at Sherlock and leaves the sentence hanging.

Sherlock's staring at people as they move past. "He's good at disguises, John. He could be a hairdresser or a make-up artist or..."

Dread coils in the pit of John's stomach. "Or a model," John says, watching a very androgynous, and very familiar, looking model heading out onto the stage.

Sherlock looks up, wide-eyed, just as Moriarty throws a smirk in their direction and walks through to the waiting public.

Whatever the photographers at the fashion show were expecting to see that day, it probably wasn't Sherlock barrelling down the catwalk and tackling one of the models to the floor in a flurry of fists and fabric.