"This isn't going to work, this is –"
"John. John." Sherlock holds John at arm's length, his arms on the shorter man's shoulders. "Shut up and dance with me."
John is utterly terrified and silent. "Um…"
"I'm not letting you go to your own wedding if you can't dance. You'll embarrass us both, now come on." Sherlock starts to circle around John, and John's not sure if he's supposed to follow or stay in place. He opts to stay in place, since he's too scared to move.
"What're you –"
"Shush." Sherlock grabs John by the hand and leads him to the center of the living room. "Trust me."
For some unfathomably complex reason, John does. "What do you want me to do."
Sherlock picks up an iPod that John didn't know he had and flicks to an appropriate song. The music starts out slow and elegant. "Follow my lead."
John nods, and Sherlock positions them accordingly. "Hands on my waist," Sherlock demands, and John obliges while trying his hardest not to blush.
"Oh, please." Sherlock rolls his eyes, stepping backward and propelling the two men into some kind of box-step thing.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…
The height difference is… a problem, to say the least. The top of John's head only goes up to Sherlock's nose, which means John gets a bird's eye view of Sherlock cupid-bow lips. John tries to distract himself by counting the steps in his head.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…
The music picks up, and John starts to feel like he's a Russian princess from a fairytale. Without warning, Sherlock lets go of one of John's arms and spins him. John isn't sure if he should be dizzy, scared, or impressed. He settles on a healthy mixture of all three and continues dancing.
"How am I doing?" DON'T LOOK AT HIS LIPS. OH MY GOD DON'T LOOK AT HIS –
"Fine." Sherlock smiles, and John feels his heartbeat pick up a little.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…
The music transitions into something almost weightless, smooth, and airy. John feels as if his feet are gliding along the carpet floor. Honestly, he couldn't be happier.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…
The distance between Sherlock and him is closing fast. John's so close to his Sherlock that he feel his friend's breath on his face, warm and surprisingly comforting.
The song ends, and the music stops. John wonders if the iPod broke, but that doesn't really matter right now. All that seems to matter is that his friend, his best friend, is standing inches away from him.
NO NO NO WHAT ABOUT MARY NO DON'T –
Thankfully, at the exact second John was about to act on his impulse, Mrs. Hudson burst into the flat with a tray of tea and biscuits.
"Oh!" She stopped dead in the door. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"Uh, no," John stammered, unconsciously stepping back from Sherlock. Sherlock coughs and stuffs his hands in his pocket, pretending not to care. "Sherlock was just, um, teaching me to dance." Sherlock nods, reassuring John that the thing they were supposed to be doing was not musical foreplay, but dancing.
...
Written for the LWS Trope Bingo Card 3 prompt 'Learning to Dance'. I find John's heteronormality frankly very unconvincing.