Dancing With The Detective

by Eryberrie

Sherlock teaches Alex to dance. Platonic but can be interpreted as romance.

This fic does not have a definite setting, but somewhere after chapter 40. I accept anonymous reviews and would be very grateful indeed if you could leave your thoughts at the end. There is no intended romance between Alex and Sherlock, given that Alex is gay, however, it is open to interpretation.

"You have got to be joking!" Alex exclaimed, holding an invitation in her hands.

"What's that?" John Watson asked as he opened his post.

Both of them were still in their PJs at half past nine in the morning, sorting out their respective post. Sherlock was playing some lovely, joyful tune upstairs, indicating that he was in one of his, extremely rare, better moods. The music was also unusually loud.

"I've been invited to a 'ball.' A classical ball, no-less, as a personal guest of one of my publishing company's most successful and wealthiest writers!"

"A ball? That sounds great!"

"Err… no! Not if you have two left feet! There's a list of dances here and I'll be required to take part. I can't dance! I'll have to decline, regretfully. Or I'll go and say that I've sprained my ankle so I can only sit and watch."

John stuffed his mobile phone bill into his dressing gown pocket and laughed.

"That's the oldest euphemism in the book for 'I don't – slash – can't dance so I'll fake an injury to get out of it.' They'll see through that excuse in a heartbeat! Plus, Alex, I've been out with you to a club before. I've seen you dance and you're actually really good."

"Thanks, John, but shaking it at a nightclub is one thing - this is real dancing. It requires skill and experience. Two things this woman does not have!" she said loudly, pointing to herself.

"Surely you can get some lessons?" John asked.

"The ball is this Sunday. Today's Wednesday, so that gives me just a few days to do that and buy a dress with matching shoes that I normally wouldn't be seen dead in. No, I can't go. I don't really care, to be honest." she said as Mitzie padded her way out of the basement flat, letting out a 'meow' greeting to Alex and John before rubbing herself along their legs. John picked her up and tickled her chin, which made the kitten purr.

"Do you want some breakfast, Alex? Sherlock's busy with his violin so he's left the kitchen for its intended purpose for the time being."

Alex accepted and took her cat back into her flat. She tidied herself up, dressed, fed Mitzie and ventured upstairs to have breakfast with the boys.

She was ignored by the consulting detective when entering the flat. Typical. He was pacing back and forth with a subtle smile as he slid the bow expertly over the strings, creating the most beautiful sounds. Alex secretly envied anyone with musical talent for she was completely tone deaf. A woman who tried to teach her the piano as a child had diagnosed her 'musically dyslexic.'

John's idea of the best breakfast in the world was full English and there was nothing Alex could do to stop him making the same for her. Alex reclined on the sofa and allowed Sherlock's musical talent to fill her mind. She couldn't help but marvel at how the man could be capable of such talents yet be so ignorant and oblivious about many things. Alex and John found him fascinating beyond belief.

"So, what dances are on the list?" John asked.

"The Waltz…"

"That's easy. It's just one two three, one two three, one two three…" John chanted, raising his arms and swaying as if he were holding a partner.

"Okay, fine. There's also the Foxtrot, Quickstep, Tango and… Meringue?" John laughed.

"That would be Merengue! I only know how to Waltz, otherwise I'd show you the others."

"Doesn't matter, I won't go. Shame really because there will be nice food and free drinks."

Sherlock finished his violin playing session and checked his phone for messages. He stamped his foot and tutted.

"You okay?" John asked.

"Yes." came the abrupt, and rather rude, answer.

"There are tutorials online, Alex. You could always see if there is a school that will teach you the basics in a couple of days."

"Yeah, but may I remind you that I have two-left feet and I would need a lot of lessons to be considered mildly capable of just making it onto the dance floor, let alone twirling about like Ginger Rogers?"

"Don't be absurd, Alex," Sherlock interrupted. "You have one right foot and one left foot, attached to the end of each respective leg." He had decided to attack the Sudoku cube to pass the time.

"It's a figure of speech, darling. It means I can't dance." Alex replied snidely, not caring about his literal interpretations. Sherlock looked confused as he contemplated the saying. Alex turned her attention back to the doctor who was dishing up a wonderful looking breakfast.

"I remember when I was thirteen; I went to a Halloween party and we did the Conga by Black Lace. I ended up crashing into a table!" John laughed. "Seriously, footwork is not my thing. I even had problems with netball at school. That whole stop, step and pivot thing cost my team a lot of free passes."

"Alex, I'm not sure if your lower-than-average intellect has told you this, but moaning about your inadequacies will not provide a resolution to the problem, darling." Sherlock interjected from the living room, adding the final word with direct eye contact. He sat in his chair with his long legs crossed, still fiddling with the black and white cube. Alex clapped her hands slowly.

"I know, genius, but I was just having a moan. Anyway, there is a resolution:" Sherlock looked up at her, feigning interest, "I'm not going. Plus, I was talking to John, not you."

Alex was certainly in a bad mood this morning. Sherlock just raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement of her ruder than normal attitude.

Several minutes passed in which Alex consumed her food, which seemed to lift her spirits.

"Anyway, I'm going to do the shopping because someone won't." John said, looking pointedly at Sherlock. Alex would have interpreted this as spiteful if it weren't for the small smirks exchanged between the boys.

"Typical bloke," Alex said as she rose from her chair, "leaving the woman to wash up."

She would have offered, of course, but being taken for granted left Alex feeling a bit put upon.

The flat was sitting in its normal eerie silence. Eerie because Sherlock's presence so very ghost-like at times that it was often hard to predict his next move, which could be a loud noise, a disgusting experiment or a sudden screech from his violin. The subsequent clanging and tinkering sounds of the cutlery in the sink were rather comforting.

Once it was over, she considered going back down to her flat. However, Sherlock's strange movements in the living room had caught her interest. He seemed to be clearing away some of the piles of paper in the corners. Piling, or rather stacking, things in a seemingly random order.

Strange, because he never tidies, Alex thought. She propped up her eyebrows to say 'fair enough' to herself and went about making tea. It had almost become a ritual to have tea in 221b whenever she and Sherlock were together. The beverage was their ice breaker and the perfect catalyst for conversation.

With two full cups in hand she turned to go into the living room but decided against it when she saw Sherlock moving the small end-tables. He seemed to be pushing as much paper, furniture and the other claptrap that he and his flatmate had accumulated over the last year into the corners. Gazing about the place, Alex noticed that the large coffee table, which was normally in front of the sofa, had been wedged into the small space between the cabinet and the sofa. What was the madman up to?

Alex put the teas down on the kitchen table and took a seat. Sherlock had now stopped fumbling about and was standing in the middle of the room, ignoring Alex and the tea she had made. His head moved side to side slowly, scanning the length of the room. The hands that were on his hips were clapped together before being rubbed harshly.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Alex finally piped up.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he removed his suit jacket, threw it on his armchair and made his way to the small (now cramped) space behind his leather chair. There were a few metallic and plastic clicking sounds coming from whatever he was handling. It was hard to see, or deduce, exactly what was happening.

Alex went on drinking the rest of her tea and let him get on with his task. He must have some reason for the clearing up of the room – maybe it was for an experiment?

Her thoughts of what she wanted to do that afternoon were soon interrupted by a rising melody; strings and brass instruments playing a familiar tune; soft and slow but building to a very recognisable piece. If she wasn't mistaken, it was called The Blue Danube. Alex had heard it many times before and thought that if Sherlock was into any type of music, it would be of the classical variety so it didn't surprise her that he had The Blue Danube on his iPod or on CD.

She turned to face the tall, suit clad figure that was emerging from the dark corner. Sherlock's face was serious and was looking directly at her. He had an almost magical ability to gain the attention of anyone he wanted with just one look.

As he approached her, Alex's nerves shook slightly. Sherlock instantly deduced this reaction in her and slowed his pace. Just his sheer height was intimidating and the sight of him looming over her as his leg stopped six inches away from Alex's foot caused her to nearly choke.

The expression on his smooth face still attained its seriousness whilst showing his wish for her attention to focus on his eyes and nowhere else.

Without averting his gaze, he extended his left arm towards her. Alex timidly looked at his outstretched hand, expecting there to be something in it. There wasn't.

The palm was partially open with the thumb suspended and relaxed. He was offering her his hand. He was asking her to dance.

The realisation of this caused Alex to shudder. This would mean being physically close to the detective. Touching his bare hand with her own for a longer-than-usual length of time seemed like a strange prospect, as well as being in a kind of embrace, which ballroom dancing would require.

Alex trembled as she raised her hand to meet his, almost unconsciously as if her instincts were prevailing over her brain. She gripped his fingers and allowed him to do the same to hers. He pressed his thumb lightly to her knuckles and lifted slightly, gesturing her to stand. She obeyed. They hadn't exchanged a word and there was no need to.

As if accepting his offer was nerve-racking enough, tolerating his penetrating stare as she came closer to him than she ever had before was even more mind-blowing.

Sherlock took a step back whilst still keeping his eyes on Alex. He continued to walk backwards and Alex followed, shaking even more. She was about to dance with Sherlock Holmes!

They stopped in the middle of the living room and he adjusted his grip on her right hand so that she was resting her palm on his. Alex curled her fingers to hold on, but the detective stopped her.

"No, just rest your hand on mine and don't hold on too tightly." he growled in his deep sultry voice that Alex adored. She flinched a little when she felt his other hand wrap around her waist. Gently, he pulled her closer to him and Alex instinctively placed her hand over his shoulder. She had seen in movies that this was where the woman was supposed to put her left hand and she smiled when Sherlock confirmed it was correct with a small grin.

Alex wasn't sure if she was comfortable with the closeness. She had felt close to Sherlock as a friend for months now and there had been no need for any physical contact. John and Sherlock hardly ever touched and when they did, it was necessary.

"You're tensing up. Relax." Sherlock instructed, adopting a soothing tone.

Alex breathed out slowly and let her left elbow drop a little. She did as he requested and relaxed into him. They stood so that only their hands and arms were touching, leaving a clear space for their feet to move in time to the music.

"Watch me and follow my lead. Remember what John said; one two three, one two three – okay? With your right foot, take a small step to the side on one. And, go…"

They moved in unison to Alex's right, using their joined hands to direct them. He counted the two and three to change their balance so that their next outward step would be to Alex's left.

Alex found this flow of movement rather easy and enjoyable, yet repetitive and it made her slightly dizzy. If it wasn't for Sherlock's insistence that she kept her eyes locked with his, she would have keeled over.

It was clear now that his eyes weren't completely grey as she had previously thought. There were flecks of green within the 'spokes' of the iris.

"Good." he commended after a minute of their Waltz. Alex was getting the hang of it and the one syllabled word, accompanied by an approving smile, made her feel rather pleased with herself. Sherlock interrupted the flow a few times with some turns and by changing their direction. Alex followed his lead as he asked and found that with a good teacher, her feet moved naturally the way that they were meant to.

Eventually, they stopped, even though the music continued. Sherlock released his hand from around Alex's waist and he brought her hands to her front, where he let them go completely.

"Told you." he said.

"Told me what?" Alex asked.

"You don't have 'two-left feet' as you put it. You're more than capable of learning."

Sherlock walked towards the stereo, which Alex could now see had an iPod docking station on it. His body shielded what he was doing with it from view but the music stopped rather abruptly shortly after, indicating that he had turned it off or had paused it.

"The Waltz is easy. One of the very basic dances. Just as you have demonstrated, it can be learned in literally a minute."

"Thank you. That was rather interesting actually. But I still won't be going to the ball."

"Why ever not?" Sherlock said without looking at her.

"There are other dances. Some I've never heard of."

"Clearly. Now for the Foxtrot."

The flat was now completely quiet. Only the sound of Sherlock's feet could be heard as he came towards Alex with a predatory twinkle in his eye, along with the shallow breaths and pounding heartbeat from Alex's chest. All she could do was stare at the greenish-grey orbs and helplessly obey his every command. He was almost hypnotic. His eyes, his walk, his voice and even his intelligence, which was obvious in his whole being, were mesmerising.

As he descended on her, without thinking about it, Alex raised her arms to cradle his shoulder again and take his hand. This gesture was met with a small smirk from the detective, who took both her wrists and pushed them down to her sides.

"It's not quite the same with the Foxtrot. There is a little more distance between us than with the Waltz."

"Um, okay. Sherlock, where did you learn all this?" Alex asked as he placed his right hand under her arm to cup her left shoulder blade.

"If I tell you, I'm very much afraid that I'd have to kill you." he said with another small smirk. "Although I will say that you have already deduced the answer to that question. Remember several months ago when my brother, John and Mrs Hudson appointed you as my 'minder?'"

"Yeah."

"What did you say to me when we were eating the chow mein the evening before we visited Mycroft about the Zak Laurence case?"

Alex thought back to that night, whilst Sherlock picked up her right hand and held it in the air.

"I don't remember exactly but I think I commented on your table manners."

"What did my table manners show you?"

It was a few seconds before Alex really remembered.

"That you were raised a gentleman."

"Yes." He said, showing a small resentment towards his parents for his upbringing. "If you take that concept and figure out what else is involved in that, it isn't difficult to make the connection."

"Your parents made you take classes? Or you learned it at school? That means you went to rather a posh school. Probably Eton." Alex was about to reel off more observations when Sherlock made a 'shh' noise. He didn't want her going too far as he understood that much like him, she had a mind that could work things out once she had the basic ideas.

"The Foxtrot is very different to the Waltz with footwork. A similar flowing movement but different turns and steps. Have you heard 'slow, slow, quick, quick, slow' before?"

"Yes, I have."

"That is the basic concept of the dance. However, there are many different steps. No music for now." Sherlock said, as he gestured for Alex to place her free hand on his arm. He was right. They weren't as close as before, for she could only reach his upper arm. Alex was rather surprised when she felt his biceps beneath the silk purple shirt. The muscle was firm and strong. The shirt seemed to fit him perfectly and Alex wondered if he had his clothes tailor-made. The material was so soft under her fingers that she had to fight an urge to caress it. She considered what silk would feel like on her own skin for she had worn silk only once in her life when she was dressed as an angel in a nativity play. His physique was definitely skinny, yet sinewy and as elegant as a dancer. Maybe he had several dancing lessons as a young man, which helped him to sculpt his slender body.

"We would have to look in opposite directions in this dance but for now we'll just focus on getting the footwork down." Sherlock told her.

It took half an hour before they had covered the different steps. They were very smooth and flowing and appeared very similar to the Waltz yet somehow very different. Alex was rather fit having been going to the local gym regularly, but this was strange exercise. It made her legs ache and having to use her mind and body in synchronisation was odd. She would usually go on 'auto-pilot' on the treadmill and even when on the weights machines. Instructive dancing involved concentration and Alex was finding it taxing on her mind and body. On the other hand, she had a good teacher. She was surprised at how patient Sherlock was being and how he never over-complicated the dancing. He simply instructed her to either go left or right, stop, side, together, backwards and forwards. It was a whole new side to the man and it was refreshing to see. He was undoubtedly the most impatient, unsociable and arrogant person Alex had ever met and many others would agree. Yet here he was, being gentle and much less vocal than he usually was.

Alex hardly made a wrong move and was rather impressed with how well she caught on, given her previous grave doubts about her abilities. However, it was almost certainly because she had an expert teaching her; an expert with the most refined sense of focus and observation.

Once Sherlock had finished showing her the basics and they had put a few routines together, he found three songs on the internet, which sounded like very jazzy and bluesy. Of course Sherlock wouldn't have such music on his iPod, so the solution was to download it.

John had returned from shopping by the time they had finished the first dance. Sherlock had reminded Alex to follow his lead and, notwithstanding political correctness, the man would traditionally lead in ballroom dancing.

The doctor stood in the doorway with his mouth gaping, rendered speechless by what he was seeing. Alex and Sherlock stopped their twirling about but remained in each other's embrace.

"Are… are you two dancing?" Sherlock rolled his eyes at this question.

"No, we're cooking dinner." Alex replied, which made Sherlock's exasperated expression become a picture of amusement.

"Sorry?" John asked.

"Ask a silly question, get a silly answer. Yes, we're dancing."

"Okay… how do you know how to...? Oh, never mind!" John said as he went into the kitchen to put the bags down. He went back downstairs to get the rest.

"Break?" Sherlock asked Alex. He slid his hand down her arm and released her from his grasp.

"Yes, please." she replied.

Alex made tea for all three of them and assisted John with the shopping. He was silent and distant throughout the task and when he noticed that his usual armchair, with the union jack cushion, had been pushed up next to the cabinet with the TV and the round end table had been placed behind it, he really didn't look happy.

"Err, are we going to put all this back?"

"No, Alex has more dances to learn." Sherlock answered.

This seemed to annoy John. He made himself lunch without offering to make some for the other two and slumped on the sofa with a long face, showing his grievance at the living room being moved around by groaning that the coffee table wasn't in front of him to put his plate and cup on. Alex and Sherlock sat at the desk, with the latter searching the internet for more ballroom dance songs.

"Oh, stop whinging. It's only for a couple of days." Sherlock said after John had had his miniature tantrum.

"A couple of bloody days? While you two twirl about as if you're on Strictly?!"

"On what?" Sherlock said sharply.

"Nothing. I'll go up to my room."

Alex felt for John, having his living room moved about without his prior consent or knowledge. She wanted to say to Sherlock that the room should be put back the way it was and that they should go somewhere else to learn but, maybe, this new setting would have an advantage.

"John, wait." Alex called. Sherlock perked up as if he knew what Alex was about to say. "You said that the Waltz was easy and you knew the steps."

"Yes. So?" he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Sherlock's shown me, albeit a little. Do you want to dance?" Alex said as she stood up. John glared at Sherlock, who was grinning devilishly at them both with his arms folded.

"Um… I'm not sure I want to in front of Sherlock."

"Go on." Sherlock said. "You said yourself that the Waltz is easy and that you would show Alex if she didn't have others to learn."

The deviousness was written all over his face and it oozed from his voice to the intended recipient. John loved a challenge yet hated the humiliation Sherlock would often subject him to.

"Okay. Alex, shall we?" he said, hold out his arms. Alex assumed the same position with John as she had done with Sherlock an hour earlier. The beautiful melody of The Blue Danube flowed through the flat once more. John shot an embarrassed look to Sherlock before beginning and made a point not to look at him again for a while.

John didn't have the gentle grace and flow that Sherlock had, yet he knew the steps. He was rather more assertive with his grasp on Alex's waist and led her around the living room in a way that surprised Alex. He didn't seem like much of a dancer – physically he was virtually the opposite of his companion – although he was rather good at Waltzing. He stopped after a minute and flushed red when he caught a glimpse of a near laugh coming from Sherlock.

"Sorry, can we just leave it there?" John said with a giggle. "Um, you're very good and I'm sure you'll do really well under Sherlock's instruction. I'll be upstairs." John scarpered up to his room, leaving Alex and Sherlock laughing together.

"Let's return to the Foxtrot, shall we?" he said as he took the writer in his arms again. Alex found this dance rather exhausting after running through each song twice. At this point, Sherlock showed Alex how they would be required to look away from one another, which threw her off course. This was the first time that Sherlock showed any level of impatience.

"Just concentrate on the steps!" he demanded.

"I'm trying but looking in one direction and walking in another is rather hard."

"No. You're not following my instructions!" Sherlock seemed rather bored now and that was not a good thing.

Alex truly felt like crying. She had enjoyed the evening and Sherlock's unfamiliar affectionate side. However, the prospect of failing at something she really wanted to get right, and leaving her friendship with the detective strained, stirred her emotions. She hated the thought of Sherlock thinking she was incompetent and becoming bored with her.

Just like she did the first day they met, she summoned whatever courage she had and made the next move.

Raising her arm and holding Sherlock's bicep firmly, she stood in front of him and held his gaze. Once again, his eyes took her under his spell. His brilliance shone through those eyes and his handsome face as did his emotional side. Sherlock seemed to reciprocate her feelings and replaced his hand around Alex's back. They joined their free hands again and prepared to repeat the dance.

"I'll try harder. I promise." Alex said, looking him squarely in the eye.

"You're upset." Sherlock deduced. There was no way anyone could hide from the detective's expert scrutiny, especially when they were just inches from each other.

"I was. I'm okay now, let's go." Sherlock held his focus on Alex's teary eyes. She had to blink a few times as his stare was so spell-binding. She looked away and tried to begin the dance but Sherlock stayed still. He removed his hand from Alex's back and with one finger, tilted her head so she was facing him again.

"It's all right. You just have to think more about what your feet are doing and not where your eyes are looking. Try closing them."

Alex raised her eyebrows at that to question his statement. Sherlock smiled at her and nodded.

"Trust me."

She shook a little when she realised that he was serious. He repeated his previous gesture and Alex tentatively closed her eyes.

"Good. Now, let's try again."

It was an odd sensation. Alex had to place her complete faith and trust in this man that he would guide her around the room in this smooth dance; her being deprived of one of her basic senses.

Sherlock moved extra slow and cradled her gently, using his voice every so often to tell her where to go. However, the need for this lessened throughout their dance. Alex allowed herself to relax into his arms and soon, they were dancing flawlessly.

"Excellent." Sherlock said when the song had finished.

"My God. Closing the eyes does help." Alex proclaimed as their arms slipped from one another.

"Obviously. Don't worry, you'll be ready in time and don't think that you won't be able to go. You shall go to the ball!" His eyes glinted with charm as he said those words.

"Hey now, I'm not Cinderella. Her problem was not learning to dance, it was acquiring a dress and actually making it to the ball. Hang on, how come you can't remember the solar system but you can remember Cinderella?" Alex asked with her hands on her hips. Sherlock looked uncomfortable for the first time that day. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Alex said, pinching the bridge of her nose. He silently accepted and sat down at his laptop.

She was rather thirsty and hungry now and she was sure that Sherlock felt the same. She made them some tea and went back to her flat to prepare some lunch and feed her cat.

"Are we going to do any others? Like the Tango and Quickstep?" Alex asked after finishing her lunch.

"Yes."

A few seconds passed in which Alex was expecting him to elaborate and she grew impatient when he didn't.

"So, when will that be?"

"In good time."

"Sherlock, I've got till Sunday to learn them all and find a dress and shoes." she said with disdain at the items she would have to purchase.

"Yes…" he said slowly, emphasising the final consonant. "Plenty of time."

The Tango Argentine was the one that Alex dreaded. She had seen it performed before and it looked rather silly. Sherlock, of course, was extremely proficient. He made Alex perform some twirls and kicks that she found rather difficult. Still, when the routine began to sink into Alex's head, it became rather enjoyable. It was wonderful to see Sherlock sweeping his legs and moving faster than he had done with the previous two dances. A few times, he leaned Alex right back into a 'dip', although he was careful not to startle her too much. Once Alex was familiar with the steps, she was able to move lower with Sherlock supporting her weight completely and lifting her back to her feet.

It was oddly liberating to be in someone else's control, especially Sherlock's. His patience and encouraging words of praise motivated her to keep dancing and remain under his command.

Alex enjoyed dancing with women on nights out and stealing a kiss, or more. On the other hand, dancing with a man; a man whom she had known for a while, and never felt anything for, was a surreal experience. She pictured them both alone on a dance-floor, being admired by people and applauded for their footwork and technique. The invite allowed Alex to take another person. Would Sherlock agree to be her 'plus one?'

After revisiting the Waltz, the Foxtrot and a few more goes at the Tango, Alex felt rather dizzy and asked that they stop for the day. They had danced for several hours and John was rather keen to start dinner. He insisted that they watch the evening soaps and he wasn't prepared to watch them alone in his room. Sherlock and Alex moved most of the room back to how it was but they were going to have to make some space the next day.

Sherlock showed himself to be a wonderful dancer and instructor. Alex marvelled at how simple he made the dances but mostly, he told Alex to follow him and move in synch with his actions.

Over Thursday and Friday, they rehearsed the dances Sherlock had taught her and he showed her the Quickstep and Merengue. The latter was a gyrating and flirtatious dance and this was the one in which they were closest.

They had to be careful with the Quickstep, for it was exactly that. Quick. Very quick with large movements. He stuck to showing her the basics and, using very small steps, they spun around the room several times with Sherlock throwing in an impromptu turn here and there and, once again, Alex had to look over her right shoulder rather than at her dancing partner.

The rush from the fast dancing caused Alex's already over active imagination to make her feel as if they had won Strictly Come Dancing. She couldn't help the smile on her face and she secretly loved the feeling of being more affectionate with Sherlock. She knew, of course, that the person that Sherlock was closest to was John. No one would ever take his place. The thought of Sherlock and John dancing made her giggle a little as they ended their Quickstep routine on the Friday afternoon.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Just imagining you and John dancing." Alex giggled again.

"Why would that be funny?" Sherlock didn't seem offended at her giggle fit – simply confused as to why it would amuse Alex.

"Not funny exactly. More sweet. Mind you, I don't think that he would want to. People might talk, you know."

Sherlock smiled at that statement. "They already do!"

They both broke into fits of laughter at this. It was true. There were rumours all over the internet about Sherlock and John. Alex didn't pay any attention but she was aware that people thought, and possibly hoped, that the doctor and the detective were in love with one another.

Neither of them were that way inclined and neither was Alex for that matter. Yet here she was, dancing with the detective and loving every minute. Sherlock had fascinated Alex the day they met and he continued to do so. He always would.

Alex knew that there would be a dancing partner (or a few) for her at the ball but she wanted to invite Sherlock.

He and John were invited out to assist Lestrade with a case on Friday evening, which took all of three hours to investigate and apprehend the suspect. Sherlock and John seemed invigorated at the accomplishment of another job being executed and Alex had the evening to herself and Mitzie. Earlier that day, after finishing the last Merengue routine, she ventured to a shop, which Sherlock had recommended, and bought the most gorgeous silk pink gown. The last time she wore a dress was at her school awards ceremony when she was seventeen. The shoes were low in the heel, but Alex purchased some gel cushions for her feet, just in case.

Dresses were usually clothes that Alex would never wear unless her life depended on it. Yet in this lovely slinky pink gown, she felt wonderful.

It was Saturday morning when Alex got the opportunity to ask Sherlock if he would be her guest.

"Why?"

"Well, I'm used to dancing with you and I can bring someone along, as per the invite, and I would like to ask you. Please?" Alex asked, trying to do her 'butter wouldn't melt look' as best as she could.

Sherlock enquired as to where it was and what time the following day. After much deliberation, he agreed to be her date for the evening. Alex wanted to hug him for the acceptance, yet a wave of shyness held her back from doing so. Being the clever man he was, he knew from her elated bounce in the air and small squeal when he acquiesced, that she wanted to show her appreciation by displaying physical affection. He already had a tuxedo in his room and sent it to the dry cleaners, ready for Sunday evening.

The dances were now embossed on Alex's brain and would probably be there for life. She was still nervous about getting the steps wrong or treading on Sherlock's toes again, for she had done so several times in the flat. He had donned his metal toe-capped shoes for the event to prevent Alex from breaking any bones with her hard soled pumps.

Her hair had taken ages to sort out. Mrs Hudson helped her weave the small jewels into her tresses and assisted Alex with her make up. She was so worked up that she twice stripped off all her foundation to start again and only her landlady could calm her down.

Once she had poured herself into the gown, and ensured that the gel cushion filled shoes were firmly in place, she went to join Sherlock in the lobby. He had just descended the stairs when Alex emerged from her flat.

Wow, Alex thought. Sherlock looked amazing in a tuxedo. He had even taken steps to neaten his usually messy curls. He would certain impress people tonight and, even though she had taken hours to get ready, she felt as if she had no place at this handsome man's side.

"You look stunning, Sherlock!" Alex said as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ready?" he asked, ignoring her compliment. He adjusted his watch and kept his eyes looking nowhere but at Alex's face, his watch or the front door, which received a knock right on cue.

He showed no expression at her new-found femininity, or that she looked the best she had ever looked in the months he had known her. Alex nodded and bit back tears. She was as nervous as she could be already, and the fact that Sherlock was acting so indifferently and had turned to the door without ensuring that she was walking out with him was causing her even more distress.

However, he did hold the door for her. Alex hoped he would notice her beauty, and was even more hurt when he still refused to let his eyes drift over her new dress and perfectly coifed hair.

Mycroft had been good enough to send his chauffeur to 221b Baker Street to escort them to the mansion where the ball was taking place. It was said amongst the employees of the publishing company that the party was costing the host half a million pounds. When Alex arrived, she saw why.

It was like the opening of the Academy Awards. Everyone was immaculately dressed and the mirror ball in the middle of the ceiling was as large as an average car. An orchestra was playing in the corner and waitresses were handing out plates of caviar on small square pieces of toast.

Sherlock had offered his arm to her and seemed to take charge, handing her invite to the doorman and walking into the main room as he was the guest of honour.

He walked so elegantly that he could pass for a king and was so gentlemanly that Alex was astonished at the sociable change in him. He accepted a glass of champagne and was gracious enough to find a non-alcoholic beverage for Alex.

She had warned him beforehand that if he offended anyone, intentionally or otherwise, and got them kicked out, she would have been furious with him. He had reluctantly agreed to share any deductions he made with her and not to confront someone with his observations.

"Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?" Alex joked as she took the glass from him.

"Sorry?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Look at you being all nice!" Sherlock looked almost pleased with himself that he had won her approval.

There were lots of people in the mansion, covering the balconies above the ballroom floor. Alex and Sherlock were introduced to the host, who was simply the warmest and friendliest person she had ever met, except from John Watson, of course.

"Hmm, he's a writer, she's an editor. That one over there used to be a civil engineer and has been divorced twice with three grown children." Sherlock whispered to Alex.

She knew that he would become bored very quickly and would be itching to exercise his brilliant brain. She encouraged his deductions but only in whisper so his ramblings wouldn't affect anyone.

"Alex!" came a familiar voice behind her. She turned to see her publisher, Peter Phillis, and they greeted each other warmly. "How are you, honey? You look gorgeous if I do say so. And who is your date?" he asked, turning to Sherlock. The detective smiled awkwardly and flicked his eyes all over the new person in his presence. Alex laughed a little.

"Pete, you know I'm gay. He's a friend of mine, Sherlock Holmes."

"Wow. The Sherlock Holmes?" Peter gasped as he extended his hand.

"The one and only." Sherlock answered.

"My God, I've read so much about you. Of course you're not Alex's date, how silly of me; you've already got a partner."

"Pete, Sherlock and John are not a couple. Don't go making assumptions without all the facts." This statement was rewarded by a charming smile from Sherlock.

"My bad, I'm sorry. Will I be dancing with you later, Alex?" Peter asked.

"No, Sherlock's my dancing partner. Thanks anyway."

Pete was accosted by a group of young men who appeared rather tipsy on the complimentary champagne.

Alex then turned her attention to the splendid buffet, which was extravagant to say the least. Especially the three eight foot chocolate fountains; white, milk and dark.

"Stop thinking about food. There'll be plenty left after the dances." Sherlock told her.

"I know but look at those fountains!"

"Yes, I see the appeal. They will be starting the dances in four minutes and thirty two seconds precisely so we best go down to the main ballroom floor." Sherlock was certainly taking the authoritative stance tonight. Alex was happy to accept it, given his calm demeanour at this party and how nervous she was. He offered his arm and she threaded hers through and walked with him slowly down the red carpet covered stairs.

The main ballroom floor was colossal and almost sparkling. The chandeliers were gold and were so bright that just one of them would have been enough rather than four.

Some couples were already warming up and without asking her, Sherlock quickly wisped Alex into his arms and began the quickstep before she could protest.

Alex was so glad that she had days of practice beforehand and even though the dress was rather restrictive, she found that her movements flowed much better in heeled shoes rather than in bare feet on the partly rug-covered wooden floor of 221b.

The music stopped and the room filled with a round of applause. The three other couples who were dancing bowed and Alex noticed that some people were looking at her and Sherlock with awe and adoration spread across their faces. They bowed lightly and remained in their place. Alex went bright red at being the centre of attention. Sherlock read her embarrassment and, very uncharacteristically, put his arm around her waist and leant in to whisper in her ear.

"They're impressed. With both of us. Don't let it make you feel humiliated, let it boost your confidence. Everything will be fine, trust me."

"Thanks. Do you reckon that people here think we're together?" Sherlock looked at her, puzzled.

"We are together."

"No, I mean a couple."

"Ah. Yes, many of them do. From the looks on their faces, eight people in this room know you and of your orientation and are so confused as to why you are with me."

He was scanning the crowd and seemed to be whispering endless deductions about the people and objects in the room.

Before long, the dances started. Merengue was first, followed by the Tango. It was a slightly different pace to what Alex had been shown, but Sherlock knew what to do. He felt the music as if it flowed through him and Alex could almost sense it coming out of his pores and seeping into herself, manipulating her body to move in ways in which he commanded.

Throughout the night, Alex faltered only once with her footwork when a slower version of the quickstep was done. Sherlock pre-empted her error and brought her back into the dance effortlessly. Not once did they swap partners and they were very comfortable with being close for the hour that the dances took place in.

The Waltz was the last dance. Alex lit up when the orchestra started playing The Blue Danube. Sherlock grinned back at her.

"I love this piece!" Alex exclaimed. Sherlock drew her in close, closer than they had been in all of their practices and looked her directly in the eye before they began to start the dance. Alex leaned in close to his ear to speak to him over the loud music.

"Thank you for teaching me, Sherlock. I really do appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. Let's not make this a habit, though. By the way, the five people over in the corner are judges and they look like they are going to announce the best dancing couple."

"What?!" Alex cried. Sherlock shushed her and twirled her around a few times.

"I overhead them when I walked past them on the way to the restroom and the way that they are talking, watching and pointing is obvious." Alex smiled and once again brushed her cheek against his to whisper into his ear.

"Who do you think they have picked?" Sherlock moved Alex around so he could get a glimpse of them without disturbing the other dancers.

"I – I don't know." Alex was dubious at this. The look on his face did not show certainty.

The whole ballroom exploded into rapturous applause when the Waltz was finally over. Sherlock released Alex and they both clapped briefly. He was right; the host's VIPs were deciding who their best couple was. Maybe there were multiple 'bests.'

"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you very much for attending and taking part in this year's ball. To mark a change this year, instead of the usual dance-off, we have decided to vote for our 'Couple of the Ball' from the dancing that has just taken place."

A mass gasp escaped the crowd. People were gawping at each other. Some seemed pleasantly surprised and others appeared pissed off that they wouldn't get a chance at the dance-off. Sherlock nudged Alex in the ribs to get her attention and they exchanged a pleased glance.

"As we do not know everyone by name, the rosettes will be presented to the couple in person."

The host and his wife stepped down from the podium they were stood upon and immersed themselves amongst the crowd. Hopefuls were smiling and some women curtseyed as they were meeting royalty.

The couple moved across the dance-floor, heading in Sherlock and Alex's direction. They made some turns as if to tease the many other dancing couples into believing that they had won.

They stopped three metres away and looked about them. After several seconds and the sounds of people's breathing almost stopping, the couple moved towards Sherlock and Alex.

With beaming smiles, the hostess handed a rosette to Alex and the host handed a rosette to Sherlock. He took the prize reluctantly and turned to Alex to show his exasperation by rolling his eyes a little. The hostess appeared to pick up on this.

"Don't worry about him; he's just a little shy!" Alex jumped in, almost certain that Sherlock would not appreciate her interjection. The older woman smiled and acknowledged her statement. The crowd applauded and whistled, some more than others.

Alex blushed and wanted to bury her face in Sherlock's suit jacket but she turned her face to look at the floor in order to hide the pink in her cheeks. At least her make-up was thick enough to shield some of it. She seriously hoped that they would not be asked to dance one last time – especially the Merengue!

"Congratulations, both of you!" The host said as he shook both their hands. Sherlock smiled graciously but fiddled with the rosette, not wanting to place the white and pink silk on his person. The hostess made the decision for him and grabbed the item from his grip. Usually, nobody would have faster and more accurate reflexes than Sherlock, yet this woman managed to take it from his fingers without him being able to stop it. She pinned it on his jacket and just like a gentleman, he stood there with his jaw clenched, rolled his eyes again and made no steps to stop the woman. She patted the rosette after pinning it and told him how lovely it looked, much to Sherlock's embarrassment. Alex cringed but was happy that she shared in the moment of being stared at.

"Now," The host said into the microphone. He had taken his place again on the podium and once again had the crowd's attention. "If the 'Couple of the Ball' would like to lead the final dance of the evening…" It wasn't a request. People had moved back to create some space.

"Oh, God!" Alex said under her breath. She held up her hand in refusal and Sherlock accompanied it with a shake of his head. The host frowned despondently. Alex closed her eyes and leant in to whisper to her partner.

"They said lead, so we won't be alone. Shall we just get it over with?" Sherlock breathed out slowly, his annoyance abundantly clear.

"Fine." he replied shortly. He grasped her hand and they moved to the centre of the room. A few couples were poised to begin after Sherlock and Alex. The orchestra struck up but did not play a melody or piece that Sherlock seemed familiar with. It was an instrumental version of Take My Breath Away and Alex tipped her head forward onto Sherlock's shoulder.

"What kind of music is this?" he asked.

"It's a romantic song…" Alex really didn't want to 'slow dance' with Sherlock. It was giving out the wrong message. They were in the same embrace necessary for the Waltz but all eyes were on them to become more intimate.

"What do we do?" Sherlock hissed.

Tentatively, and somewhat delicately, Alex slid her hands over both of Sherlock's shoulders and turned square to face him. He tilted his head back a fraction, clearly unnerved by how close her face was to his. Alex turned her head and stood on her tiptoes to speak to him quietly and as surreptitiously as possible.

"Put both your hands on my waist. Trust me." Sherlock did as she said. "We dance in a small circle, just swaying a little and very slowly."

Sherlock went rigid as she led the dance, the first time she ever did so. He held her waist firmly yet systematically, going through the motions and not letting the dance or music influence him. The lights dimmed and more couples were dancing, taking some of the attention off them.

"Relax. It's only for a few minutes."

Sherlock scoffed lightly but moved his hands so he was holding her properly. He was clearly relieved in the fact that most of the eyes on them had moved elsewhere and he relaxed a little. Yet, he seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her; still appearing to be uncomfortable with the distance apart their faces were, which was only a few inches. Eventually, he looked her in the eye and Alex felt his muscles loosen even more.

"So this is what a 'romantic dance' is? Just swaying about on the spot? Boring." Alex giggled.

"Yep. But it's good if you're in love – I speak from personal experience." It was Alex's turn to let her eyes drop as she remembered the woman who broke her heart. Sherlock read the expression in her face and knew what it meant. He rubbed her back lightly.

"Hey, forget about her. Like you said; let's just get this over with. There are chocolate fountains up there that you were anxious to sample earlier." he said, grinning from ear to ear.

After the final note and the subsequent applause, Sherlock and Alex made their way off the ballroom floor and upstairs to the buffet. Most people were still downstairs so Alex could take advantage of the free space in front of the white satin covered tiers. The fruit and cakes had been made into patterns and the savoury snacks looked delicious. However, it was the chocolate Alex was after. She heard Sherlock laugh behind her when he saw how much chocolate she had put on a mini doughnut.

"Try it, Sherlock." Alex said, her mouth full. He had already picked a few red grapes off a bunch and was munching on them slowly. He declined the fountains and left Alex to it.

They left the ball relatively early to avoid a mass exodus. Mycroft's chauffeur turned up within three minutes of Sherlock's text message.

Once home, Alex kicked off the shoes and peeled off the gel cushions before Sherlock had barely got his feet in the door behind her.

"Ow, ow, ow!" she cried, clutching the soles of her feet, one after the other.

"The gel cushions didn't work, then?" Sherlock asked with a mildly condescending tone.

"Yes, but not as long as I'd hoped. I'm glad we came home early."

The clock in the lobby struck midnight and Alex practically ran to her flat door after retrieving her shoes.

"I can't wait to get out of this bloody dress and I'm never wearing those shoes again!"

"You may want to keep it down. Mrs Hudson will be asleep." Sherlock reminded her before making his way upstairs. He stopped halfway up and called Alex's name before she could enter her flat.

"You couldn't make tea, could you?" Sherlock asked, adopting his best 'pretty please' face. Alex was all too familiar with Sherlock's manipulative streak, even though she seldom stood up to him. She agreed but got herself into her pyjamas and dressing gown before going upstairs.

Sherlock was busy on his laptop and, as Alex saw, was sending replies to multiple people who were sending him queries about observation and deduction. He was still wearing his tux but had dispensed with the jacket and bowtie. She saw him type his most favoured saying 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'

She made tea and had brought up some biscuits but Sherlock declined. He also wished that the telly not be turned on. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Alex decided that the silent boredom was getting too much and she had to go to sleep.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked as she was about to leave the room.

"Bedfordshire."

"Why would you want to go to Bedfordshire at this time of night?" he asked. Alex laughed so hard at this that she was worried that she had offended him. However, she felt no remorse if she had.

"It's slang for 'going to bed.' You really amaze me, Sherlock. Night."

"No. Don't go yet." He stood up and turned to his stereo, placing his iPod on the docking station.

"Sherlock, no more dancing, please. I'm tired."

To Alex's surprise, the music he had put on was the same song that had been played during their final dance at the ball. This time, it was the original version.

"I thought you wouldn't know this song." Alex said.

"I found it in my Mind Palace."

"Your what?"

"Nothing. I'll explain another time. Now, Miss Price, would you care to dance with me?"

He was standing a couple of metres away with his left hand extended towards her. Alex deduced that as keen as he was to have their final, final dance of the night, he was sure not to adopt the predatory stance he had a few nights before when he had practically given her no choice but to accept his hand. This time, she held the cards. Alex shifted on her feet for a bit. She was in a bulky dressing gown, but that wouldn't really matter.

A verbal answer was unnecessary. She walked towards him and mirrored his position. Rather than move closer to her and take her waist, he raised his arm in silent request for her to spin into his arms. This was rather awkward, given that she was barefoot and wrapped in a fluffy gown, but she fell into his awaiting arms at the right angle so that he could move her so that she faced him.

They never broke their eye contact as their hands found the same places that they had touched each other earlier. Barely swaying, they turned on their feet in a tight circle. Sherlock deduced Alex's somnolence and allowed her to lean on him slightly. Breaking the connection in their gaze, she turned her head so that her cheek was relaxed against his chest and let her hands slip to the sides of his neck.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Mmm." Alex affirmed. "Just tired."

"Clearly. By the way, you danced really well tonight. And the dress really flattered your… um… figure."

"…thank you." Alex replied against his white shirt, barely audible.

"Perhaps, though, you wore a bit too much make-up and there were three gems too many in your hair. Otherwise you, er, looked… rather alluring."

"What's this?" Alex asked, looking up at him. "You're complimenting a lady on her looks?"

The question did not elicit an answer. They danced for the remainder of the song until Alex finally lifted her head so that they were, once again, inches away from the other's face.

"Goodnight." he said. Slowly, he eased his hands from her waist.

"You too." Alex replied.

Quicker than she could see, Sherlock lifted one hand to cup her face and dipped his head to hers. Alex was about to move back, sensing that he was going to kiss her. No – this was going too far! Instead, he tilted his head and placed a light peck on her cheek. He withdrew his hand and with one more goodnight wish, Alex departed.