It had been three months since the day John found out that Molly and Sherlock were seeing each other. It couldn't really be called dating because they didn't actually go out on dates. Whatever they had, it seemed to be working. John wasn't a jealous man but it had taken him a while to come around to the idea that his flatmate had a girlfriend. Sherlock had a girlfriend. Even the sentence sounded weird. If Sherlock hadn't been so intelligent, John would almost have felt obliged to sit him down for a "little chat". Thankfully, Sherlock's exhibitionist nature stayed within the realm of his work.
Molly was around more often. John had no problem with this. She was fun, she was an excellent baker and she was well able to stand up to Sherlock. Of course, she always had been, in her own quiet way, but it was more overt. You could say that she didn't take any of his shit now. John remembered a time when Sherlock made him get his phone from his own pocket. And idiot that he was, he'd done it. Molly wouldn't put up with that. John had the great fortune to witness the first time he tried it.
They were at Barts and Sherlock had just received the results of a toxicology panel.
"Excellent. Molly, get my phone."
"It's in your pocket," she said.
"I know – get it for me," he looked up at her, smiled his very best smile, and added "please."
"Get it yourself, you lazy sod," she replied, really sweetly, meeting his gaze without a blink.
John watched, very pleased, as Sherlock sheepishly retrieved his own phone.
oOo
It was a Friday evening in September. Molly, John and Sherlock were sharing an Indian curry at Baker St.
"Molly, you've looked at your watch 7 times in the last hour. What is so pressing?" asked Sherlock.
"I want to watch something at 7:30."
"Of course you can, Molly. What station?"
Sherlock glared at John. He preferred to provide background music himself.
"Er, I think I'll just go home actually."
"What? Don't be silly – you can watch whatever you want," said John.
"Well, it's Strictly Come Dancing on BBC1."
John nodded and grabbed the tv remote. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.
"It's a show where celebrities learn ballroom and Latin dancing with professional partners. They get judged and then the public votes one off every week."
"You mean it's reality television?" Sherlock sounded like he'd been asked to solve an obvious spousal murder by Lestrade.
"Yes, it's brilliant. I love dancing. You should at least understand it, Sherlock."
"Hmm, what's that now? What would Sherlock know about dancing?" asked John.
"Nothing at all. I suppose I can put up with it this once though." Sherlock beckoned for Molly to come and sit by him on the couch. She obliged and immediately found the detective's head in her lap.
And that was how John found himself watching a dancing show with his flatmate and his girlfriend. It was so weird. Molly was busy with the explaining.
"So this is the first show where they introduce all the celebrities and pair them up with their dance partners. Some celebrities allegedly only do it if they get certain professionals. But they all get paid the same, whether they're knocked out in the first week or get to the final. The professionals stop earning when they're knocked out, which is hideously unfair."
It wasn't long before both John and Sherlock, to their mutual disgust, were drawn in.
"Who is this ancient fool presenting with the terrible lines?"
"Do you seriously not know who Bruce Forsyth is? He's a national treasure, mate," said an astonished John.
"Well then he should be in a museum!" retorted Sherlock.
"And look at this poor woman who is his sidekick. Her body language says she is mortified at everything he says but she obviously needs the job and is hanging on in the hope he'll retire soon and she'll be able to take over."
"Oooh, do you really think so, Sherlock?" Molly was suddenly seeing a new appeal to watching her guilty pleasure with Sherlock.
"It's completely obvious."
They watched everyone was partnered up. The final part of the show was a group dance – designed to give the audience an idea of what each individual would be like in the competition.
"Usually, everyone's rubbish at this stage but sometimes we get a hint of greatness to come. I remember a couple of years ago watching Ricky Whittle and thinking – may as well not bother, he'll clearly win. But he didn't! He came second but I think the public didn't warm to him."
"So people actually spend money voting on this nonsense?" said Sherlock.
"Yes, we do," replied Molly through gritted teeth.
"What happens after tonight?" John tactfully asked.
"They have 3 weeks of intensive training before the first live show. No one goes home in the first week but the scores are carried over."
"Therefore, you won't be talking about this again any time soon?" said Sherlock hopefully.
"No. I wonder what else I won't be doing?" replied Molly.
John wondered whether he should begin a blog post entitled "Dance & the Detective".