"Sherlock?" John called, frowning. It was disorientating, having the thick fabric of Sherlock's scarf tied over his eyes and being left to stand in the middle of their living room. The furniture had been pushed out of the way, and classical music was still drifting through the speakers - the set up for John's lesson in ballroom dancing. It hadn't been going so well. He had been stumbling over every few minutes, or getting the timing wrong, or doing the wrong step at the wrong time. Both he and Sherlock had been getting frustrated.
A warm hand suddenly fell on his shoulder, making him jump. Sherlock silently arranged their hands, stepping in close enough that John could feel his breath tickling his hair.
"Are you really sure about this? Surely if I can't see I'm more likely to break your foot," John said for the second time, feeling a little less vulnerable now he knew where Sherlock was. He had been blindfolded before of course, during his army training, but this was different.
"Trust me, and trust your instincts," Sherlock murmured, staying perfectly still. John strained to sense when he would move - then lurched backwards with his left foot as Sherlock stepped forward with his right. He grinned; so far, so good.
He still stepped on Sherlock's toes and tripped in the first few minutes, but as time went on with their silent dance he barely noticed that they were picking up speed, relaxing as he grew accustomed to it. He even joined in with Sherlock's light laughter instead of cursing when his partner suddenly changed the direction of their movement. It felt good, to whirl around in time with the music, almost effortlessly.
The song changed to a slower one which required a different sequence of smaller steps, but again he was confident with Sherlock's more experienced guidance. They had slipped closer together, chests almost touching, and John couldn't help but rest his forehead against Sherlock's shoulder.
"John?" Sherlock muttered after a minute and John instinctively looked up. He wasn't expecting Sherlock to swoop down and kiss him, the little show of love bringing a smile to John's lips.
Perhaps he could see the appeal of the ballroom after all, but he wouldn't let Sherlock know that he was right. Again.
AN: Prompted by and so written for consulting-dragon. The title is from this beautiful song. Not particularly relevant to the fic itself, but it fits!