A/N: I hope you all enjoy this little story, it should turn out quite well. I will warn that this is NOT a slash fic. Friendship between John/Sherlock, that's about it. There may be a few other pairings though, we'll see. I'm not entirely sure at this time, especially considering how new I am to these characters.
I don't own Sherlock, but I did spend part of my classes today watching it with my best friend.
"I. Don't. Dance."
His tone warded off any argument though his eyes betrayed a slight bit of uneasiness. It was true: Sherlock Holmes did not dance. At least, not willingly. He'd done so in the past, of course, but even those rare times had been necessity only. Surveillance on a case, forced by his great-aunt at the age of 14 - either way, he'd never have gone if it was up to him. As he'd so simply put it, the man did not dance.
"Sure you do, Sherlock," argued the other man, shaking his head lightly to clear it of frustration. This was no light offer he was giving - a chance to attend the retirement of one of Scotland Yard's most important members, most influential members - and Sherlock had the nerve to turn it down? This couldn't be happening, especially not after the retiring man, Alexander Blackford, had specifically asked to meet the one and only Sherlock Holmes, the man he'd heard everything about and never met. Of course, the request was shuffled along to Lestrade who was now in the frustrating process of convincing the stubborn detective.
"No, I don't." A childish argument, of course, but what would one expect with him? In so many ways, Sherlock was a child in a man's body, constantly bored, constantly seeking entertainment and adventure, and so damn set in his ways. He was one of the most intelligent men Lestrade had ever met, but that didn't invalidate the childish parts of him.
"Sure, you could," he argued back. "Sherlock, come on, do this for me. Alexander Blackford has worked in Scotland Yard for over 30 years. He's one of the best. You don't understand how important this is to him."
"And you."
"Excuse me?"
"You," Sherlock replied, eyes glinting in a somewhat menacing fashion. "You wouldn't normally do this for anyone, but this man is powerful. He will be important even after retirement. He could secure raises and increasingly powerful positions over the years for you, just by simply carrying out his wishes. Lestrade, I'm not a pawn in your game. Try the market if you want one of those, they often sell chess sets."
"Funny. Really, Sherlock, hilarious, but you can't be seriously saying no. I need this," Lestrade informed him, "and you know very well that this isn't just for me. As you said, he's powerful. He could just as easily stop me from consulting you in the future."
"He wouldn't do that, and on the chance that he did, you wouldn't follow those rules. You need me. This discussion is closed, I don't dance. I refuse to attend a retirement ball for anything, let alone this."
"We'll see," the other man mumbled, turning a way for a moment. Curious, Sherlock tried to peer around him but found the way blocked as Lestrade turned again. He could barely see the edge of the phone and it became clear. Texting, of course. Probably John or someone else that might be influential, begging for help and telling them that he was refusing to attend. Ha! He'd love to see those texts.
After that moment, Lestrade turned around again and gave him a curt nod. "Just think about it, Sherlock. It won't be all that bad. You won't even have to dance if you don't want to, just meet Blackford."
And with that, the detective inspector was off, leaving Sherlock alone on the street. He shrugged to himself, muttering under his breath. No, he wouldn't attend. It would be foolish, and after all, he did not dance and would not for anyone.
…would he?