Where the white boys dance

Summary: John decides he can't wait for a miracle anymore.
Warnings: Post Reichenbach angst, Sherlock's return.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Based on song 'Where the White Boy Dance' by the Killers.
Rating: M, just in case.

Take me to the place where the white boys dance,
Take me to the place where they run and play.
My baby is gone, you might have a chance,
Just take me to the place where the white boys dance.

Gloomy light, filtered by grey clouds, sluggishly crept across the floor. The room it lit was covered in layers of dust from lack of care. On the armchair by the fireplace, a broken army doctor sits with a cold cup of tea on the small table beside him. He stares at it unblinking, trapped in his own mind. It had been three years and a month since the fall. He couldn't wait any longer, miracles didn't happen, Sherlock was gone and he had to accept it. The soldier stood, his leg threatening to buckle but he forced it to move, taking the stairs up to his room slowly.

A shower and shave later, the soldier picked out a set of clean clothes, Mrs Hudson had tried her best to do his laundry as well as keep the rest of the flat in order but she found it was a monumental task and now she couldn't even bare to be in the same room as her tenant. She misses Him too but she doesn't say anything, she doesn't want to break the fragile bond between herself and her one remaining boy. The doctor decides to put on a show, he had never been much good as an actor but he could hide his emotions well when the need arose. Now in a fresh shirt with black straight jeans, John left his bedroom. He left his cane by the wall though he knew he should probably take it.

Downstairs, he smiled at the frail figure of Mrs Hudson.
"I'm going out for the night, not sure if I'll be back til morning. Have a nice night." He called softly. The landlady nodded, unsure what to make of the sudden change in behaviour. John didn't stay to explain, he nodded his goodbyes and left, locking the door behind him.

The club was too loud, too boisterous, with too many drunks in one place. But for John, it was perfect. He grabbed a pint at the bar area and settled to watch the thrum on bodies meddling into one on the dance floor. He hadn't decided if he was just here to drink or if he was taking someone home yet. It all depended on how the night went.
"Buy a lady a drink?" A soft voice asked from his left. He smiled and called the barman, slipping him a note and passing the woman her glass. She slinked onto the barstool next to him, allowing the soldier to get a good look at her. She was beautiful, long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, curvy but not overly so with long legs. John suddenly felt suspicious; something told him he had met her before, he couldn't think where though. This woman was so far out of his league that it wasn't even funny. There was no way that she was really into him. John smiled and took a swig from his larger.
"So what's a beautiful woman like yourself doing in a place like this?" He asked. She sighed.
"Looking for company without getting hit on." She replied. John blinked, so she wasn't into him. That was why she was next to him. John nodded.
"Oh the burden of beauty." He hummed, not quite sarcastically. She smirked.
"Something like that."

John waited a few moments before continuing.
"So can I ask your name?" He enquired, casting her a glance, it had been so long since he had tried to hold a conversation.
"Jennifer. Yours?" Came the reply, slightly awkward. It seems she hadn't done so much talking recently either.
"John." He answered before they lapsed into silence again.

The soldier looked around the room, he wasn't the only person he for just a drink, there were many people that Jennifer could have sat next to, he was the furthest from the door, she had to pass all of them to get to him.
"So why me, there are plenty you could have sat next to." John asked, not unkindly. The woman glanced around the room.
"There's something about you, something different from them. Like you wanted some company too. You don't look like you've had any for a long time." John cocked his head and she smiled sadly. "I can see it in your eyes, in the way you sit. You want the company badly but you won't go and get it. I wanted someone who wouldn't just take me as beautiful and forget I'm a person, I want to be noticed as someone with feelings and thoughts." John nodded, he had heard something like that before. The memory made his chest twinge and he looked to the floor so that Jennifer would see his smile fall.

When he had placed the mask back over his face, he looked back up.
"So why are you here?" She asked. The doctor grimaced. He didn't have to answer, he wasn't going to, but then something changed. His mouth opened unbidden.
"I once shared a flat with a great man. A good man, he just didn't know it. He was the smartest person on the face of the earth and it cost him his life. I should have been there to save him and I wasn't, he sent me away so that he could face the danger alone. I shouldn't have gone, he tricked me. I saw him fall and I've been hoping every day that he would just walk back through the door and call me stupid for doubting him but it's been three years and I can't hope on a miracle any longer. I need to move on but I don't know how to." He paused. The look on Jennifer's face urged him to continue. "I reverted back to my army days, when I had leave I would go to the nearest bar, get smashed and take some random woman home. Three Continents Watson, that was my nickname in the army. I thought I could do it again, pretend it never happened, but I can't even bring myself to dance." Jennifer thought for a moment then grabbed his hand and led him into the throng of people.

It was awkward to start with, the bodies encasing the new comers and swallowing them into the lasers and bounding beats. John felt his mind disconnect from his body as he let his limbs move to the beat. Jennifer grabbed his waist and pulled him further in, it felt like he was being dragged under the ocean, letting go of land. Flowing with the tide, the doctor let his thoughts abandon him completely. His leg trembled under the pressure of standing, he ignored it. Hands grabbed him from behind but John didn't care, he was in too deep to worry about personal boundaries now. Jennifer looked behind him, at someone, then dragged him further into the crowd, pulling him away from the hands on his waist. John smiled, at least he had someone looking out for him here.

The two broke free from the mash of bodies, far enough that they could hear each other over the crashing sound of music.
"It's an awful place." She said, leading him to the door. John whole-heartedly agreed. Jennifer looked back to the dance floor, "Let's get out of here, that fools been messing round on me, I can see it in his eyes and on his face." She whispered. The soldier immediately knew who she was talking about, the one who had grabbed him. They found the door in the dim light and broke out into the cold night.

By the door, a girl who didn't even look old enough to drink was yelling down a phone. She held onto the wall for support as her thin legs shook.
"-You're talking crazy." She screamed, slurring. "Don't be that jealous!" John shook his head, disgusted that someone had let her get into that state. So young and already too drunk to hold her own weight. There wasn't anything he could do for her though, so he turned away. Jennifer linked their arms as they walked down the pavement. There was a chill in the air and the soldier took off his jacket to give to his female companion. She accepted the offer of additional warmth.

In a more expensive part of London, the woman stopped outside a flat. She smiled at John and buzzed herself into the apartment. The doctor was about ready to walk back to Baker Street when she invited him inside for another drink. John decided he had nothing to lose and followed her up the stairs. The woman noticed his difficultly with the steps but he waved off her concerns.

The apartment was flash, with expensive carpets and furniture. A large plasma screen TV rested on one wall and the window led out to an open balcony which looked over London. The woman disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. John sat down on the white leather sofa, giving his host the option of sitting next to him or away from him. Jennifer poured two glasses and took the seat next to him on the sofa, handing him a glass. The doctor smiled.
"This is an awfully big place for just one person." He hummed. The woman smiled sadly.
"It wasn't bought for just one person." She answered. The soldier nodded.
"It's beautiful." He replied, knocking back his whiskey and only just holding back the coughing fit. It was much stronger than he had been expecting.

Something tapped on the door. Jennifer looked over but made no move to answer it. John didn't bring it up, pouring himself another glass. He knew he really shouldn't have more to drink, he was beginning to feel woolly headed already and that stuff was strong, expensive. The person outside knocked again, a little louder. The host sighed,
"Nothing ever works out the way you want it to, does it?" She asked. John shook his head, he could agree with that statement. At the third knock, she stood up, placing her glass on the table and walking over to the door.

John listened for the signs of a struggle, ready to intervene if things got nasty. What he heard was not what he was expecting.
"Where's John?" The doctor's ears picked up.
"What do you mean?" His host asked.
"I know you have him, where is he?" A demanding voice.
"I have no idea what you are talking about and I think you'd better leave before I call the police."
"And leave him to the likes of you? He deserves better. Now tell him to come to the door." John wanted to go and help but in doing so he might make it worse. Conflicted, the soldier remained where he was.
"No, I am going to call the police now."
"Kate, I won't ask again." Who was Kate?
"It's not Katy, not anymore. You're at fault for that. I won't let him go through what I went through. It's better to believe you're dead." John found himself frozen to the spot.
"She chose to leave you, I didn't have a choice with John, he would have died."
"He did die, why can't you see that? He's broken and he's just about to get better. He's picking up the pieces, now go away." Unable to take anymore, John heaved himself off of the sofa and shuffled to the door.

A tall male stood in the doorway. He looked over Jennifer (or Kate or whoever she was).
"John." He smiled. The doctor stayed glued to the spot, mouth hanging open. "I'm sorry John." The baritone voice mumbled. This snapped John out of his brain-addled haze.
"Sorry? You're sorry." He stated. "Well that's nice. Three years and a fall from a high building while I watched but that's all okay because you're sorry." The man flinched, unable to look at his blogger.
"I had to, John. They would have killed you." Kate stepped of the way, forgotten. John laughed bitterly.
"Yes, I kind of wished they had, to be honest. It would have been better than spending three years hoping you would come back. You know what? Now I wish you hadn't." He answered, pushing his way past.

Before leaving, the soldier turned to his host.
"It was a nice evening, I don't quite know who you are but I never did. Thanks for the company. I'll see myself home now." Without a word to his ex-flatmate, John took the stairs down to the street. A deep voice called after him but he didn't look back. His leg crumpled and he lunged for the banister but too late to save himself from falling down the marble descent. His face smashed against the hard surface, his vision blacked and he felt his mind slipping. He heard a cry of his name and felt the ground moving beneath him before he lost consciousness completely.

It's the calm before another storm,
And the friendships from the whiskey to the keys.