Sherlock definitely picks out the pumpkin. John, of course, carves it (it's semi-menial labor after all.)
No one gets *scared*, precisely, but Sherlock annoys the actor with the chainsaw enough that John is dragging Sherlock out bodily, so there is, if you squint, a bit of clinging going on. (Sherlock merely informed the gentleman that his grip would not give him adequate torque and so his threats were quite meaningless, bordering on an embarrassment to his profession.)
Sherlock sees no reason for costumes, but since it's for Molly's party and he does recognize that she would be disappointed, he makes arrangements for costumes, his as the King of the Wild Hunt and John as one of his men. (John was planning on something calm, like scrubs or possibly an old uniform, but since he was the one who insisted they had to go in the first place, Sherlock ignores this rather feeble effort and off they go.)
John is the master of piling up pillows and wooly blankets when he's not feeling well. Sherlock is not invited. (John's kind of bitchy when he's sick.)
John doesn't even bother trying to keep his candy separate. Sherlock is above such petty notions as candy ownership.
Sherlock tells the most grisly, horrifying stories, all of them true, which makes them even worse, except that he only tells the stories he's figured out and stopped, so John soldiers on.
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Sherlock definitely picks out the pumpkin. John, of course, carves it (it's semi-menial labor after all.)
No one gets *scared*, precisely, but Sherlock annoys the actor with the chainsaw enough that John is dragging Sherlock out bodily, so there is, if you squint, a bit of clinging going on. (Sherlock merely informed the gentleman that his grip would not give him adequate torque and so his threats were quite meaningless, bordering on an embarrassment to his profession.)
Sherlock sees no reason for costumes, but since it's for Molly's party and he does recognize that she would be disappointed, he makes arrangements for costumes, his as the King of the Wild Hunt and John as one of his men. (John was planning on something calm, like scrubs or possibly an old uniform, but since he was the one who insisted they had to go in the first place, Sherlock ignores this rather feeble effort and off they go.)
John is the master of piling up pillows and wooly blankets when he's not feeling well. Sherlock is not invited. (John's kind of bitchy when he's sick.)
John doesn't even bother trying to keep his candy separate. Sherlock is above such petty notions as candy ownership.
Sherlock tells the most grisly, horrifying stories, all of them true, which makes them even worse, except that he only tells the stories he's figured out and stopped, so John soldiers on.
The leaves are part of an experiment, John.