The One Next Door

He's a Barbie Girl

                  

Sherlock, John, and the rest of the gang scrambled over to a booth in the middle for the best seats, Sherlock and John sitting so close together that they were basically sitting on each other's laps, not like they had any other choice, sitting with three other people in one booth. The first song came on, some pop hit from long ago, Lady Gaga possible, Sherlock didn't pride himself on remember all of that. Needless to say, they were terrible. And that's not even exaggeration, like; Sherlock was half expecting the local animal hospital to show up and expect to see a cow giving birth in the middle of the stage. Tom seemed to be enjoying it a lot more than they were, so Sherlock could only assume that these American Idols were from his shift.
"They're terrible!" John called to Sherlock over the music, even though Sherlock was literally sitting right next to him.
"You know who is going up next though, right?" Molly asked, jabbing Sherlock in the side.
"No way Molly, I have some dignity, even if I am a little bit drunk!" Sherlock insisted. 
"I'll do it with you." John offered, and Sherlock just laughed.
"How does that make it better? That way we both look like idiots!" Sherlock called.
"We already are idiots, come on Sarah, make room." John decided, pushing Sarah out of the booth so that he and Sherlock could make their way up to the stage.
"They're going to video tape us." Sherlock pointed out, stumbling over the flat ground and clinging to John's shoulder for support. Now the song was ending, and there was one of those long high notes that the singers needed auto tune for, but obviously the coffee shop didn't have the type of technology, so the two people up there were shrieking like dying cats. Most people erupted into applause, and the ones that didn't were too busy laughing.
"Alright, come on up Sherlock!" John called, grabbing Sherlock's hand and dragging him up to the stage. The coffee shop erupted into applause, and Sherlock saw Jeanette get to her feet, clapping widely, and Molly was pointing what looked like a cell phone at them, getting it all on video.
"Pick a reasonable one, please." Sherlock muttered.
"Oh, don't worry, it'll be fine." John assured, flipping through the songs as Sherlock gestured madly at Molly to put the phone down. Of course, she wouldn't for the life of her.
"Okay, here's your microphone." John decided, handing Sherlock a ratty old microphone.
"What song are we singing?" Sherlock asked.
"You'll figure it out." John assured. The music started to play, and Sherlock had a very vague memory of hearing the song before, maybe on a commercial or something.
"Hiya Barbie!" John exclaimed.
"No!" Sherlock screamed as he was supposed to say hi to Ken. He heard Molly laughing from where he stood; Tom had to take up the job of filming.
"Do you want to go for a ride?" John asked.
"Sure Ken..." Sherlock muttered through clenched teeth.
"Jump in!" John exclaimed as more music started to play.
"You're doing great!" Sarah called, seeming to be having a very hard time keeping her laughter in.
"Alright, there you are." John pointed out.
"Why am I Barbie?" Sherlock snapped.
"Because you're beautiful." John pointed out.
"I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world, life is plastic, it's fantastic!" Sherlock sung, well more like shrieked, but then again, he really couldn't tell the difference. "You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere...!" Sherlock screamed.
"Come on Barbie, let's go party." John added in, and Molly officially fell out of the booth, paralyzed with laughter. As the song went on, they got more into it, and soon Sherlock was dancing along to the lyrics, screeching out the words and doing a terrible little two step. John was just as passionate, of course, if not a little bit reserved since he might have been a little bit more sober.
"Oh, I love you Ken." Sherlock said, the final line, and the music shut off. The coffee shop erupted into applause, Jeanette standing on a table to clap furiously. John dropped his microphone and took Sherlock by the waist and dipped him down, like the people do when they're slow dancing, but of course in Sherlock's mind frame John was actually trying to kill him. Instead though, John pressed a kiss onto his lips, as a little reward for just embarrassing themselves in front of all of their coworkers.
"You did awesome Sherlock." John decided.
"I love you Ken." Sherlock agreed, straightening up and laughing as he gave John another kiss, for good luck.
"Alright you two love birds, get off the stage, my turn!" Sarah exclaimed. She ran up to the stage and Jeanette followed, which probably wasn't a good idea for either of them. But Summer Loving came on, and what better song to sing with your boss? When Sherlock and John took their seats, they were greeted by Molly, who had tears falling down her face, and Tom, and even he had the biggest smile on his face.
"I'm emailing this to your parents." Molly pointed out, and Sherlock just groaned. The party gradually started to slow down once Molly and Tom went up onto stage. They were the last ones, and everyone's happy drunken spirits started to dwindle as it got later and later. And, unfortunately, both Tom and Molly seemed to be really good at singing, and they were doing a duet of Say Something, which was a slow love song that put everyone to sleep. Sherlock was just about to nod off, his head propped up uncomfortably on John's shoulder, when finally the song ended and John shook him awake.
"I guess you've hit the wall, huh?" John asked with a laugh.
"Ya....sleep time." Sherlock agreed with a groan, suddenly not feeling able to walk. He'd love to just sit on this table and sleep for the rest of the night, and then, when he woke up, he'd just be back at work. It would be flawless. But of course, someone turned the lights on, burning his eyes like the fires of Hell, and the music stopped. Jeanette went up the microphone, saying a couple of thanks to the helpers and the people who donated money, and finally the doors were open and they were allowed to leave.
"Bye you guys, I can officially scratch two things off of my bucket list." Sarah decided.
"Like what?" Molly asked, clumsily trying to pull her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.
"Seeing Sherlock drunk, and seeing these two idiots kiss." Sarah decided, and with that she pulled on her gigantic jacket and ran off into the night.
"What idiots?" Sherlock mumbled, leaning heavily against the door and leaning the side of his face to the cold window, it felt very nice.
"Want your jacket Sherlock?" John asked, holding up his trench coat.
"Is it cold out?" he mumbled, his words slurred against the glass.
"It's like, twelve o'clock on a December night, of course it's cold." John insisted.
"Ya, jacket sounds nice." Sherlock decided. John helped him put it on; Sherlock seemed to want to put his head through the sleeve, probably looking like a delusional two year old.
"Alright then, off we go." Molly decided, pushing open the door to a horrible blast of frigid air.
"Oh my bloody goodness it's colder than Satan's air conditioner." Sherlock decided, making John laugh.
"It's supposed to be warm in hell." John pointed out.
"Well, maybe he gets a little bit over heated when he works out or something." Sherlock suggested.
"Stop talking Sherlock, just stop." Molly suggested. Sherlock just nodded, his brain too cloudy to really care about whatever they were saying. So they moseyed on down the street, kicking their shoes through the snow and laughing for long periods of time for no apparent reason. Sherlock kept tripping over stuff, swaying into telephone poles and bumping into mailboxes. He apologized profusely of course, but obviously the objects held grudges, because they said nothing in return. When finally they walked into the apartment building, Sherlock nearly tripped on the stairs, having to cling to John for support, not even bothering with the hand rail on the side.
"You're a mess!" Molly exclaimed.
"I never get drunk, it's too expensive!" Sherlock insisted.
"Well, this was a peppermint treat then wasn't it?" Molly asked with a laugh.
"Not tomorrow." Sherlock decided.
"True enough." John agreed, putting Sherlock's arm around his shoulder and dragging the man up the stairs.
"Well, goodnight Molly. I'm sure we'll all being throwing up tomorrow." John guessed.
"I hope not." Molly groaned, but clumsily unlocked her door and went inside.
"That was kind of fun." Sherlock admitted.
"See, company parties aren't all bad." John insisted.
"I'm sure that's not what all company parties consist of. As you get older, you get suits, and cocktails, and no karaoke." Sherlock decided.
"Unless you want to sing Barbie girl in front of the CEO of your company, maybe you should avoid over drinking at future events." John suggested.
"I love you Ken." Sherlock insisted, leaning in and pecking a kiss onto John's cheek.
"Who is this Ken? I'll beat him up, I swear." John decided.
"It's you, idiot." Sherlock insisted.
"I know it's me, learn to understand a joke." John agreed.
"I understand jokes." Sherlock pointed out. John just rolled his eyes, pulling out his key and unlocking the door. It took maybe three tries, but finally he got the door unlocked and they moved inside. Sherlock didn't even think once about his own flat, it didn't really occur to him that he had one. Dudley barley even looked up, asleep in his bed. One of his ears rose in vague curiosity, but in the end he didn't really care to see who was coming in the door. What a guard dog he was.
"I'm so tired." Sherlock decided.
"Come on then." John insisted, dragging Sherlock over and flopping him down on the bed. Sherlock groaned, smashing his face sleepily on the pillow and kicking the covers over himself. John changed into his pajamas as quickly as he could while drunk and in the dark, stumbling over as he tried to put his plaid pajama pants on and falling into the wall.
"This is difficult." John growled, adding a couple of choice words. Sherlock didn't even bother to respond, he was so miserable right now that all he wanted to do was sleep. When John finally got into the right attire, he too slid under the covers and groaned in misery.
"Good night Sherlock." He muttered.
"Good night John." Sherlock agreed, patting the top of John's head as a sort of farewell, and finally fell into a deep, long overdue sleep.