Sherlock didn't usually get tired doing ballet. It relaxed him, stopped him thinking for a little while and just let him be himself. Here, at the studio, anyone who knew Detective Sherlock wouldn't recognise him. He was so different here; he was kind, friendly, funny. He was that person. The person everyone wanted to be friends with. The talented but not arrogant one.
He was under a fake name of course, but anyone with half a brain could work out it was him. He smiled to himself as he opened his water bottle slowly, letting the cool water rest on his lips for a while.
"Hey, Will, " it was Mica, his main dance partner. Will was his fake name, of course, taken from his first name (William Sherlock Scott Holmes). She slumped down next to him, "God, I don't know about you, Will, but I'm knackered." She grinned, "You look dead, mate. Wanna go to the bar afterwards?"
Sherlock looked at his watch, John thought he was at a case so it didn't matter when he would be back. However, it was five and he had been gone for almost eleven hours now.
"Fine, a quick one. I have to... Go somewhere."
She looked confused, "you always disappear. Where too?"
He grinned, "now that will be telling." Tapping on his nose, he got up. "Now if this really is going to be a quick one we better hurry."
"Fine, "she got up too. The whole dance group wanted to know about where 'Will' went after practice, Sherlock knew that they even took bets. "Fine, but one day, swear to God, I will find out where you go."
"Stalker."
"No, just interested party."
They both grinned. Sherlock picked up his dance bag and swung it over his shoulder, "be right back, I have to get changed."
"Why? You're only going home, aren't you?"
"Not telling!" Sherlock shouted, walking out of the studio, "get the others together, will you? I'll have a beer. It's on me!" He then slammed the door, Sherlock style.
Sherlock strolled into the bar, his lanky form towering over everything else. He had his usual suit on, which was not strange for him but he guessed for his dance friends it was, from the whistles and smirks he got.
"Going on a date, Will?" Asked Milly, a small girl they used for lifts. She blushed as he sat next to her (her not-so-secret crush on him apparent).
"What?" Sherlock was confused, "oh, no, these are my... ummm... Home clothes?" He lifted his voice at the end, signalling that it was a question.
"Really?" It was Tim, one of the groups oldest members, like Sherlock.
"Yes," Sherlock leaned back, "yes they are."
He grinned at them, "what do you guys wear around your houses then?"
They a replied, "dance clothes," collectively.
"Oh," Sherlock was genuinely shocked but was pulled out of it with a light punch of the arm.
"You're a posh guy! Knew it! I knew it!" Mark grinned (another of the older members).
"No I'm not! Well... Urh," Sherlock sighed, they were always like this.
"Well, you're so amazing at ballet and dance that I suppose you would."
"I'm not that good."
"Will! You're amazing! How can you not believe us still!"
"I find it hard to believe, that is all. Now," he looked at the clock over the bar, "I really have to go now."
They all said,"where?" But of course, there was no reply.
John was sitting on his chair, cup of tea in hand and reading the paper. When Sherlock opened the door he turned and gave Sherlock a questioning look,
"Where have you been?"
"Huh?" Sherlock flopped onto his chair and threw his bag of dance clothes as far away from him as possible.
"And what's in the bag?"
"You're certainly asking a lot of questions today, John."
John sighed, "did you solve it then?"
"What?"
"The case. You know, the one you have been on for eleven hours."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "do we have any food?"
"I'm never going to get a straight answer from you am I?"Sherlock smiled in answer and got up, walking into the kitchen.
After finding some brownies (made by Mrs Hudson) Sherlock walked over to his chair again. John was on his laptop, grinning.
"Why are you smiling? Stop smiling." Said Sherlock.
"I've booked us to go and see a ballet."
"Oh?" Sherlock tried not to look to interested, "what of?"
"The nutcracker. It's not a famous group, I don't think, but apparently there is this amazing lead man in it."
"Oh," said Sherlock, looking away. His group where doing the Nutcracker. Wouldn't it be funny if-
"Says that the guys name is Will."
Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath, getting him a odd look from John.
"You okay, Sherlock? Cause you've gone green."
Sherlock stood up and started walking to his room, "I'm... Fine..I think."
John didn't look convinced, "Sherlock, if you have been experimenting with poison again..."
"No!" Sherlock jumped, "no, no, no I don't think that's it."
"You don't think?"
"I... Know so. I'm fine, just," Sherlock waved to his bedroom, "long case. Need sleep."
"Hungry and now tired?" John laughed, "well that's new. Go to bed, Sherlock."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "you're not Mycroft, you can't tell me what to do
"Yeah but you're gonna do it anyway."
In answer, Sherlock slammed the door to his room and fell asleep almost instantly.