**Sway With Me**
Because I would give a lot to see Benedict Cumberbatch salsa dance. ;D
Songfic, based on Michael Buble's "Sway". I suggest listening to it while you read.
This picture, magicbunni. deviantart .com/#/d472rkw , also inspired me. It was taken in a Marie Claire photoshoot & beautifully manipulated by Magicbunni. Thanks for letting me link to it, Magicbunni! You'll have to take out the spaces in the URL to see the picture; FFnet wouldn't let me copy in the link.
Sorry if this is difficult to read. I'm still trying to figure out FFnet's horrid formatting system, so if anyone has any tips, PM me.
Sherlock and John stood against the wall in a large, crowded room. It was brightly lit and hummed with the chatter of many people. Everyone was dressed to the nines in
three-piece suits, tuxedos, and expensive evening gowns. Diamonds and gold twinkled in the lights, creating a sparkle and adding to the richness of the scene. Suave
waiters carried trays full of hors d'oeuvres and fizzing champagne carefully through the mass of guests. A full band waited patiently at one end of the room on a small
stage. It was one of Mycroft Holmes' fabulous New Year's parties.
Mycroft had greeted Sherlock, John, and Sarah earlier in the evening & was now "sucking up" as Sherlock irreverently put it, to a gentleman with a chest full of medals &
ribbons. Off to the side of the stage, Anthea was conversing animatedly with a cheerful young man with an American accent.
John, looking every bit the handsome soldier in a suit, tie, and his best military bearing, was admiring the glamour and the display of wealthy, influential people. He also
enjoyed the view of his date in her fancy, green satin dress. Sarah was at the refreshment table, retrieving a slice of cake for herself & John. Sherlock was his usual aloof
self, darting quick glances over the room & studying the guests. He was the only one who didn't look all that different; he was used to dressing well. His hair was more
tidy than usual though, and he'd even brushed it back from his face a bit. The detective had also added diamond cufflinks and a silver watch to his attire.
John turned to him.
"You don't seem to be having much fun."
"I am."
"You don't look like it."
"Well, I am. I've already deduced that the man in the corner is worried about a state decision he has to make tomorrow, that the woman in the purple dress is having an affair, oh, and that my brother has gone off his diet again, despite his assistant's effort at hiding the biscuits."
John shook his head in amusement & replied, "Can't you ever have fun like a normal person?"
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Try smiling, for one."
He uncrossed his arms, pasted on a big, fake smile, & directed it at a woman passing by. She hurried away.
"That was the most pathetic smile I've ever seen."
"Smiling's dull."
"I suppose frightening or insulting people is more amusing to you?"
"I don't insult people on purpose….much."
"Yes, you do."
"Anyway, what else do you suggest for having fun like a 'normal person'?"
"Dancing." He turned & saw Anthea come sashaying up. "Even if it's only with your brother's assistant."
She had on a long, sleeveless black dress, ornamented at the breast with a large diamond pin, which matched the comb in her dark hair.
"Ah, hello….What are you calling yourself this time?"
"Anthea."
"That's a new one."
"Yes, I had to think up an extra-interesting name for the doctor there. It's been a while since I changed it anyway."
"It takes Mycroft a couple of months to get used to it every time you do. I encourage you to change it as often as possible. It does get him so deliciously annoyed."
"Ah, but that's your job," She answered, giving him an arch smile. "Come on, I'll get Michael to play the perfect song."
"No thanks, I prefer not to dance."
"Are you sure? Because I think there's something in your freezer that would say otherwise.
"In my fr…. Oh…I could have sworn I removed the last camera. Curse you, Mycroft…."
"Luckily for you, I was the only one watching. I may or may not tell your brother."
John grinned at this masterly piece of blackmail. "Well, go on then."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but he took the hand Anthea extended. John raised his eyebrows & chuckled as the pair made their way to the mostly empty floor.
"Sarah! Sarah, come look at this."
"Is Sherlock…is he really going to dance?"
Anthea went up to the young man she'd been talking to earlier. He nodded, spoke to the band & waited for her signal. Her partner removed his black jacket & rolled up
the sleeves of his immaculate white shirt.
Sherlock & Anthea took their places at opposite ends of the floor, facing each other with an intent look. Both had removed their shoes, as though by mutual consent.
The band started to play.
When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway.
Anthea began to take tiny steps & move her hips in time.
Sherlock's dignified, stiff bearing fell from him like a cloak. His tall form, always graceful, seemed to take fire from the Spanish beat. He swayed in place, keeping perfect
time.
She took quick, rhythmic steps toward him, like a cat on a wet floor.
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more.
She seemed to be teasing him, doing a dance of her own just out of reach, glancing over at him. He performed a few steps himself. They danced in a circle, each watching
the other.
Like a flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with ease.
Sherlock put a hand up & paced toward his partner with short steps, other hand behind his back. She mirrored the motion, placing her palm against his. Two steps, then
the hands switched. The sequence repeated three times.
They held hands, took a few steps, then Anthea twisted under his arms, her back against his body, both swaying shoulders & hips in time.
I can hear the sound of violins, long before it begins. Make me thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now.
They untangled & stood side by side, arms held out, forming a line. Hips dipping, feet forward & back, the line progressed across the floor. At the edge, it bent, bringing
them face to face. They sidestepped first to the right, then to the left. She sashayed forward, coming shoulder to shoulder with him. They turned in a circle, eyes locked.
Then Sherlock caught her hand & twirled her. She spun out, then in again like a yo-yo, ending in the classic ballroom dance position. The next two measures carried the
pair over the whole floor in each other's arms.
When we dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me.
They came together, swung, & fell apart again. With one swift movement, Sherlock whisked the comb from Anthea's hair as he retreated, releasing its thick, dark waves to
fall at her shoulders. She didn't miss a beat, but gave a little smile and tossed her head.
The buttons on his shirt strained as he twisted. Her skirt swished, giving a glimpse of leg. Their shoulders grazed as she strutted past him.
The next time she twirled into him, Anthea gripped his collar, bringing their faces close together.
Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you….
Every movement flowed effortlessly into the next. They never broke eye contact. There seemed to be meaning in the dance, as though it were a language only they two
could understand. Each anticipated the movements of the other.
The dance became more heated, the dancers moving faster as the instruments got louder. He moved back with quick strides & she followed. He came forward & she
retreated. He spun her. Sometimes together, sometimes apart they danced, rising and falling on the beats. Arms extended, keeping them balanced. It was fast paced, yet
elegant, exciting, yet controlled, confident, but not flamboyant. Not a showy, sexualized performance, but two talented dancers working together, showing the other what
they could do. There was electricity in the dance, but not from friction. The pressure of his hand on her back, the grip of her fingers on his shoulder, the sure anchor of
their clasped hands. Her dress fanned out with the inertia of the twirl.
Sway with me!
The brass reached its highest clash yet & the song was ending. In the middle of a dizzying whirl, Sherlock & Anthea came to a stop, faces inches apart, her leg up on his hip.
The entire room burst into applause.
John & Sarah met the pair at the edge of the dance floor.
"Sherlock! What in heck was that?"
"Dancing. I believe you recommended it."
"That was amazing!" John & Sarah exclaimed at the same time.
"Meretricious." But he smirked & bowed to Anthea again. She curtseyed.
She had already put her hair up neatly. "Thank you, Sherlock," the assistant said, once again her poised self. "I've got to go, I promised this dance to your brother." She disappeared into the crowd as the band began to play a slower song.
John had a huge, amazed grin on his face. "Are you ever going to tell me where you learned to dance like that?"
"No." Sherlock stated simply.
Later on in the evening, John was busy whispering in Sarah's ear as they danced to a slow song.
"That's not dancing. That's hugging set to music," Sherlock thought scornfully. "Boring."
He strode to the large, deserted balcony, which gave access to the cool air and a view of the lovely garden through French doors. He'd only been there a minute when he heard a feminine voice behind him.
"Ah, here you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd left."
"No, I promised Mummy I'd stay the whole time, though she knows these things bore me to death."
"You don't have to be bored. Conversation is an option." Anthea came & leaned on the railing next to him.
"I don't think so. People are even more stupid & dull at these events than at other times."
"Well, why don't you dance?"
"No, thanks, I had quite enough of that earlier."
"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy showing off."
He smirked, then turned his back on the garden view, crossing his arms. "There's no one worth dancing with anyway."
"Thanks a lot."
"Present company excepted, of course."
"It's going to take more than that to atone for your comment, sir."
Reluctantly he pushed himself off the railing and extended a languid hand, "May I have this dance?"
She took it with an exaggerated, offended air, & once again the two assumed a ballroom position.
They were quiet for a minute, dancing slowly & fluidly in the moonlight.
"You're thinking about leaving him." Sherlock spoke up, watching her features.
"No, of course not."
"But you are."
His partner sighed. "However bored I may get, I can't forget that Mycroft helped me avoid those charges."
"Sort of a 'keep your friends close & your enemies closer' plan. I don't think you need be very grateful for that."
"He's been good to me."
"Yes, and maybe someday he'll even trust you enough to let you off your leash for a minute."
"I don't want to talk about him, Sherlock. You always get angry."
"All right, what do you want to talk about?"
"Let's talk about you. How's the work going?"
"It's fine."
Another pause followed, in which Anthea avoided Sherlock's gaze.
"Irene-"
She hushed him quickly. "You can't call me that here."
"Work with me instead. I could use your expertise."
"I'm sure you could. But I'm happy where I am now. Though, if you ever require information about a certain consulting criminal, I have a few avenues that I haven't shared with your brother." She winked at him.
He smiled back.
"You look lovely tonight, by the way."
"Why, Sherlock. I do believe that is the first compliment you've ever paid me."
"Don't get used to it; it'll probably be the only one."
"You just can't keep off the sociopath even for one night, can you?" But she smiled & put her hand to his cheek. "Thanks for the dance."
With that, Anthea walked away, back toward the crush of people and blaze of lights. He watched her go. She'd just reached the French door when he called to her.
"Don't forget, he's not the only Holmes willing to help you."
Her elegant form silhouetted against the busy scene inside, she turned, one hand on the doorway.
"I won't forget."
"Goodnight, Irene."
"Goodnight, Sherlock."
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