Sherlock Holmes. Definitely the most interesting best man at any wedding I had ever attended. I mean, who solves a murder (or almost-murder, as I'd heard him describe it to the maid of honor) during the reception and goes on to play the violin for the bride and groom's first dance? And also potentially deduces that the bride is pregnant?

He'd slipped up in front of everyone, right after he'd finished playing the violin, saying he'd be there for all three of the Watsons. Almost everyone had chalked it up to nerves or tipsiness, but it wasn't exactly a mistake I'd expect the only consulting detective in the world to make.

I'd watched as he made a beeline straight for Mary and John once he'd finished. Their reactions confirmed what he'd said. I had to smile. After all that John had gone through, and Mary too, based on the telegrams, they deserved to make their own family.

Eventually, John and Mary danced off and Sherlock looked around. I followed his gaze and found myself looking at the maid of honor. He moved towards her, only to stop short of himself. His smile fell and I craned my neck to see what he's looking at.

The maid of honor was dancing with some other guy.

I looked back at Sherlock, as the smile seemed to melt off his face and was replaced with an expression that I knew very well. Loneliness.

I mustered up all the courage I had and began to make my way towards him. He stayed still in the middle of the dance floor, looking like a lost child. Finally, I reached him. I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yes?" he asked, more confused than irritated, as I'd expected him to be.

"Mr. Holmes?" I asked.

"Yes?" he asked again.

"I was wondering if you would dance with me," I said quickly.

He hesitated and I knew he was about to refuse. I had kind of expected him to say no, even as I was walking over.

"Never mind," I added quickly, as it set in what I had just asked. Stupid, stupid. "I guess I'll just find someone else to ask."

"No-"

"It's fine, Mr. Holmes. I know I'm-"

"My name is Sherlock and I would be honored to dance."

I looked up, surprised.

"Really? Cool," I said. "Um…thanks. I'm Amy."

I tentatively put my hand on his shoulder. I felt his hand drift up to my waist and we began to dance. I bit my lip, self-consciously, wondering what I should say to my genius of a dance partner.

"So you're American?" Sherlock said suddenly.

"Yes," I said, relieved that I hadn't had to come up with a topic. "Decided to do a semester abroad here and loved it so much that I moved here after I graduated."

"What did you study?"

"Physiotherapy."

"Which is where you met John."

"Yes, after he came back from Afghanistan, I was his physical therapist."

"Aren't you still?"

"He comes every once in a while. Not as often, not since he got to know you. Hasn't needed me, but we keep in touch."

We continued to dance in silence. It was my turn to lead the conversation.

"I really enjoyed your speech, at the reception," I said.

"Really?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

"Of course," I replied. "You made us all cry in the beginning, laugh in the middle, and solved a crime before the cake was served. As far as weddings go, this was by far the most interesting one I've been to."

"Thank you."

We fell into silence again. Just then, an older lady came up and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Sorry, dear, may I cut in?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," I said quickly.

"I just want one dance with Sherlock, closest thing I have to a son," she said, quite tipsy. "Known him since he was quite young, actually. Helped convict my husband. Does the craziest things to my flat. Paints the walls and shoots at it. Oh, the noise, so loud. And whenever he feels like it, too!"

"Mrs. Hudson, how much have you had to drink?"

"Oh, you're one to talk, Sherlock," she said indignantly. "You only managed two hours for John's stag. Now, let's dance."

She put her hand on Sherlock's shoulder and led him into the middle of the dance floor. I smiled and retreated to the side of the room, where I watched the dancers.

Dance after dance passed. John and Mary stayed together the entire time, so completely and utterly in love with each other that I couldn't help but smile. Mrs. Hudson didn't end up having just 'one dance,' with Sherlock as she'd originally requested, but kept on dancing, not seeming to care when the music ended.

Eventually, the room got too hot and stuffy for me. I walked out of the room into the beautiful gardens right outside. It was quite chilly, but I didn't mind too much. The gardens were pretty, bathed in pink and purple light from inside.

The music was distorted through the glass, but still quite loud. I found myself humming along as I walked around the small pathway.

I was definitely not really a party person. I didn't do well in huge crowds, especially with people I didn't know very much. I was just a little too awkward. So I usually ended up on my own, observing everyone from the side of the room or outside, when the heat of the room started to get to me.

Just then, I looked up and caught sight of my former dance partner. Leaving. Now dressed in a long black coat, he walked away from the party. He caught sight of me and stopped suddenly.

"Good night, Mr. Holmes," I called out, pulling my wrap closer around myself.

"No one calls me Mr. Holmes," he said. "Mr. Holmes is my brother. My name is-"

"Sherlock, I know," I said quickly. "Well, good night, Sherlock."

I turned away, cursing myself silently for yet another awkward conversation. Why was it so hard to-

"Why are you outside?"

I whirled around. He was still there.

"Why am I outside? Why are you outside? You're the best man."

He smiled a half-smile but said nothing, waiting for my answer. I sighed.

"I'm out here, alone, in the cold, in the night, for the same reason that you are," I replied.

"And what reason would that be?"

"Because I don't feel like I fit in in there."

I looked up at him and was rewarded with a flash of surprise in his eyes. It was gone in an instant; he hid his emotions well. But it had been there. I had surprised the infamous Sherlock Holmes.

"Why would you think-"

"You're a genius consulting detective in the middle of a wedding," I said quietly. "Your best friend's wedding. John is completely taken with Mary and you don't know where you fit in anymore. And…" I stopped myself before I mentioned the maid of honor.

"And…?" he said expectantly.

"And…nothing," I finished oh-so-eloquently.

He looked at me for a few seconds. "Ah, nothing."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'ah, nothing?'"

"Janine."

"Who's Janine?"

"You were watching me."

"What?"

"Janine is Mary's maid of honor."

"Oh," I said, feeling my cheeks start to flush. "Well, I wasn't actually watching you, I was watching John and Mary as you told them that Mary was pregnant, and you were there and then they danced away and you were still there, and so…yeah, basically, I was watching you."

He stayed quiet for a minute, just long enough to make me feel even more awkward. "You're fairly observant."

"I'm a wallflower with a minor in Psychology. It's what I do at social events."

"Why did you ask me to dance?"

"That's an excellent question," I replied. "Maybe it's because you looked so alone. And I know what that feels like."

"Maybe," he answered doubtfully.

"No, that's probably the reason," I assured him.

"No, the most probable reason is that you're attracted to me."

At that particular moment, my mind went blank, going into a full state of panic. DEFCON 1. I could practically hear the alarms blaring in my head.

"Um…what?"

"That is why one asks a person to dance, is it not?"

"Sometimes, yes. And sometimes, no."

"So you don't find me attractive?"

"Is that a legitimate question?"

"Yes, of course. I don't ask illegitimate questions."

"Have you ever looked in a mirror?"

"On occasion, yes."

"Then you're aware of what you look like?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Then I think you know the answer to your question."

"You want me to answer my own question?"

"You're clearly capable of doing so."

"If I answer one way, I'm a raging narcissist. If I answer the other, I'm horribly self-deprecating. Not really an ideal situation for me."

"Fine. Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, you are attractive."

"I am attractive or you find me attractive?"

"Are those two mutually exclusive things?"

"I don't know, are they?"

"You're really obnoxious."

"Yes, but am I attractive?"

"Oh my God."

"Not quite."

I stopped. He was smirking. I couldn't help but smile at his quick wit.

"Fine," I said. "Yes, you are attractive. Yes, I find you attractive. And yes, that may have been a factor in my decision to ask you to dance."

"There's no may about it," he quipped back.

"Don't press your luck," I replied. "That's all that I'm willing to concede to today. I'm going to regret this entire conversation tomorrow."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will. This is the type of thing that will play out in my head, over and over again until I wish that I could travel back in time and stop myself from coming to the whole wedding-"

"Will you dance with me?"

I looked up at him, shocked. He smiled again, but now, the smile was no longer cocky.

"Is that a legitimate question?"

"I don't ask illegitimate questions."

"Then yes."

To anyone who read this, thank you so much for reading!

After only writing short pieces about the emotions of characters, I finally decided to publish a fic with an OC! My computer is full of half-finished fics about various OCs and I finally finished one!

I love reading Sherlock/OC and decided to contribute to the category that never seems to have enough stories. I started this one immediately after watching "The Sign of Three" but hadn't looked at it since. I finally just sat down and finished it and I'm reasonably pleased with how it came out. After a while, it felt like the story was writing itself.

I'm really nervous about this one, but I'm super excited for any feedback. Positive, constructive, anything is welcome!

I really appreciate the time that you took to read this story and the time that you took to read this short little nervous author's note. Thanks again!