John was not sure he had ever seen anything quite like it. He and Sherlock were in a very expensive shop; exclusive didn't quite cover it and the staff had looked at him like he was a lower life form until it had become clear that he was more than Sherlock's hired help. It was more than obvious where Sherlock bought his suits, since the staff seemed to know exactly who Sherlock was and didn't so much as blink an eyelid when he was his usual self.
How Sherlock could afford to shop at such a place, John had no idea, but it was obvious he did. For a man who claimed he needed John to help pay the rent, Sherlock seemed to have an awful lot of money to throw around. John was beginning to think that the whole thing had been a ruse because Sherlock wanted someone to keep him entertained, but given their new relationship he wasn't overly inclined to find out if that was true. At a base level he was a very practical man and the past was completely irrelevant now.
What he was having trouble processing was Sherlock going through pair after pair of very expensive sunglasses and then posing like a film star or something in front of the mirror before moving on to the next.
Of course Sherlock didn't own a pair of sunglasses, at least he claimed he didn't anymore, something to do with acid and exothermic reactions that John had decided he didn't want to know about, so Sherlock had had to borrow John's. Next to Sherlock's suits they had looked kind of cheap and cheerful, so a shopping expedition had been embarked upon. Sherlock might not combust in sunlight, but his eyesight was so sensitive that normal daylight was uncomfortable, something which made a vague kind of sense given the whole nocturnal predator angle. John was rather fond of Sherlock's eyes, but he could live with them being hidden some of the time if absolutely necessary. Sunglasses might also help hide any further incidents like the one with Lestrade, which had been surprisingly fun, but a little nerve wracking.
Sherlock also looked somewhat dashing in some of the pairs of glasses, which John could definitely live with. He actually felt his cock twitch when his lover tried on a particularly fetching pair and Sherlock looked at him almost instantly. There was an intense stare coming at him and he could feel it even from behind the dark lenses. It occurred to him that it seemed he was never going to be able to get an erection again without Sherlock noticing, because he just knew that is what his vampire lover had homed in on, but under the intense scrutiny he couldn't make himself care. He hadn't really understood what it could be like to have Sherlock's total and undivided attention, always before there had been something else buzzing through Sherlock's head as well, but not anymore. When Sherlock looked at him like that he was totally sure every faculty of that genius brain was focused on him.
"These?" Sherlock asked in an almost playful tone.
John just smiled at being caught and nodded.
"If I may say so, Mr Holmes, a very good choice," the man whom John suspected was the manager said with a smile. "I'll charge them to your mother's account."
"Hmmm," Sherlock replied in his usual uninterested tone as he looked back in the mirror again, "I'll need two pairs; things get broken so easily in my line of work."
The man smiled an obsequious smile.
"Of course, Sir," was the response, "although I'm sorry to say we only carry one pair of that particular style in stock. We will of course order you a second pair immediately and have them delivered to your residence. Your mother notified us you would need some new shirts and a new suit as well, something about blood stains. If you would like to choose the colours for the shirts and style for the suit we can have them made and delivered at the same time."
John watched in fascination as Sherlock thought about that. He had thought shops like this one only existed in movies and on TV.
"Same as last time," Sherlock said simply and then John found himself being carefully considered again; it wasn't as settling this time.
Something was going on in Sherlock's considerable brain and John wasn't overly sure it was a good thing.
"Something classic, but stylish, I think," Sherlock finally decided and looked at the man still standing beside him.
"I believe that would suit the gentleman's proportions best," the man agreed with a smile. "If you would come this way, Sir, we will just take your measurements."
John was startled at being spoken to, not around, and he wasn't sure what was going on.
"Sherlock?" he asked in a low and what he hoped was a dangerous tone.
"Oh stand up, John," Sherlock said and reached over to pull him out of the seat he had been offered when Sherlock started his posing game, "you can't be introduced to Mummy in anything you currently own. Fredricks and his people need your exact measurements and I can only estimate."
John found himself being herded towards the back of the shop before he could do anything about it.
"Sherlock," he hissed at his friend quietly, "I can't afford to shop here."
"Neither can I," Sherlock said at a normal level, as if it made no difference in the slightest, "technically I think Mycroft can only afford to shop here four times a year, but that's why Mummy leaves the account open. If there is one thing Mummy can't stand it's people who are badly dressed."
That at least had a little logic to it, even though it made John wonder quite how rich Sherlock's mother was, but that wasn't the only point he'd been making.
"But she's not my mother," he said, even as his coat was whipped off his shoulders.
"That's just a matter of law, John," Sherlock told him, looking at him directly again and John was sure he could see a little glow through the dark glasses, "you're family now and although I find your taste endearing and very you, Mummy would not approve of it for a formal introduction. I'm sure she'll love you any which way after that, but Mummy does like tradition."
As one of the younger male members of staff very politely tried to remove his jumper, John gave in; it was more than clear he was not getting out of it. He was pretty sure the Holmes family was as unstoppable as death and taxes.
"So when do I get to meet your mother?" he asked in a resigned tone.
He wasn't quite sure how afraid to be.