Ok guys, slightly different take on Johnlock here, don't worry its still a happy story! Please review, let me know where I'm winning and losing – I will endeavour to write a second chapter if you would like there to be one!

As usual, I own nout, no-one and nothing.

Music induced Chemistry

"So, where are we going?" John asked as he jogged a little to keep up with the fast paces of the Consulting Detective.

The weather was promising for a Saturday afternoon in July; the sun was beating onto the concrete jungle, making the air humid and heavy. John could feel a trickle of sweat fall down between his shoulder blades underneath his cotton shirt. He found himself aimlessly wondering how Sherlock never seemed to sweat, even now in his tight fitting designer labelled suit. It just wasn't fair, the man was good at everything; including bodily functions.

The curly haired detective broke John's reverie as he turned to him, stopping in the street to look up at the sky for reasons unknown;

"We need to go back to 221B. We are going out tonight" He said thoughtfully in his usual low baritone with the underlying tone of promised adventure.

John smiled in reply; he had no idea why the Detective made him so happy, he also didn't care to think of it so it didn't matter.

They continued walking, turning the corner onto Baker Street and entering their flat wordlessly.

"Undercover John, we have a few hours yet, but, we are going to a night club to see if we can track down this gang - what do you wear to a 'club'?" Sherlock asked a little frown crossing his brow as they reached their landing.

"You are kidding right?" John asked incredulously, but then, Sherlock was not really the type to socialise; therefore it must be new territory for the man. The doctor sighed; "Look it up on the internet, Sherlock" he said as he climbed the stairs to his own room aiming for an hour or two's nap before their evening adventure.

When John returned some time later; dressed in a dark purple shirt, black jeans and his best black shoes, he headed for his armchair.

Sherlock's bedroom door opened abruptly stopping John in his tracks.

The Army Doctor gawped at the Detective as the elegantly tall man strolled into the kitchen, seemingly unaware of John's presence as he turned toward the kettle to fill it with water.

The soldier's eyes lingered on the leather clad rear of his flatmate before his gaze headed north, glossing over the black, tight shirt and up to his styled curls that were tamed into almost straight hair.

"I take it by your reaction that this is satisfactory for a Saturday night out?" Sherlock murmured dully as he turned to face the shorter man, who was frozen to the rug in the middle of their shared living room.

"Y-yes, I just…never expected you to dress up that much…should I – change?" John asked inarticulately, pointing to himself.

"I am only following the advice on the internet, John. I have no idea if you should change" Sherlock said with a quick glance toward his own open tongued boots.

"Where did you even get those clothes?" John asked, deciding on a conversation change.

"I bought them, John, from a shop would you believe" Sherlock mused with a sarcastic smirk towards the Doctor.

John's heart skipped a beat at this smirk. Something else had changed.

"Sherlock, have you – have you got fake tan on your face?" he asked in amazement.

"A little, it is not permanent" Sherlock said as he turned toward his experiment lining the kitchen table. "Make the tea, would you John? These clothes are insufferably warm." He said without looking up as the kettle boiled.

John closed his mouth and straightened his back, tearing his eyes away from the detective; he made his way into the kitchen to make the tea.

Walking beside 'Undercover Sherlock' was a surreal experience; John kept snatching glances at the taller man as he paced his way along the pavement. As they neared the club, the groups of young ladies were increasing. Sherlock received many appreciative eyes from the impressionable single females, much to John's annoyance. However, as John furtively surveyed their surroundings, he remembered that Sherlock wasn't wired that way. The man was married to his work; he had no interest in pursuing a relationship.

In the back of John's mind something unknown whispered; 'Shame'.

The Doctor shook himself off as they stood at the mouth of the loud nightclub.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked with a frown down at his friend.

"Yes, yes, fine, fine" John answered hastily as he looked up dubiously at the name of the nightclub.

Once inside, John put his hands in his pockets and aimed for the nearest bar. He examined his surroundings in a sweeping glance; noticing that the people in the club were on average still quite sober, the lights were a dominating dark purple and red; making the space dark, cosy and safe. The dance floor was empty with the exception of one brave couple.

The building was old and the owners of the club had done their best to keep it in the fashion of its day; the wallpaper not that dissimilar to their own living room at 221B, the dance floor was lined with tall white pillars; stretching from ceiling to floor elegantly and the seating around the edges were comprised mainly of old armchairs and loungers.

"What are you drinking, Sherlock?" John asked as he stood on tip-toes to see in the refrigerators behind the bar.

"I don't drink, John" Sherlock said numbly as he leaned with his back against the bar beside the doctor, surveying the crowd. John was caught off-guard by the view of his friend, Sherlock looked like a magazine cover, and it wasn't fair.

"Right, fine, can I have a….double jack and coke please?" John said with raised eyebrows toward the nodding bar maid.

The music was loud and unrecognisable, John was tapping the surface of the bar aimlessly with his knuckles along to the beat, then he caught one of the lyrics; 'I'll let you whip me if I misbehave, it's just that no one makes me feel this way'. John coughed awkwardly; snatching yet another glance toward his flatmate's sculpted face.

Good god, he hadn't even touched his drink yet, what was he going to be like after a drink of whisky? He thought in mild panic.

Sherlock was approached by three racy females within the space of twenty minutes, John watched on in anger as Sherlock leaned towards each one and whispered in their ear. The Doctor felt his fists clench as he saw each woman swoon and close their eyes; enjoying that low and commanding tone so close to their sensitive ears. It wasn't fair. John caught himself. What was he doing? He then realised with a jolt, that he wasn't jealous of Sherlock, he was jealous of the obvious pleasure on the females' expressions. He wanted to be able to talk like that, he wanted to know what Sherlock was telling them, he wanted to be the only one that Sherlock talked to; he wanted…Sherlock to be his and his alone.

John bottomed his tall drink before promptly ordering another. Muttering that he was going to visit the bathroom, he downed that drink too before turning from Sherlock to find the mens' room.

Splashing cold water on his face, John felt the nausea relieve somewhat. What was he going to do? Was he, in fact, gay? Was this a life changing realisation that was going to change everything? What would Sherlock say if he knew?

John looked at himself in the sticky and smeared mirror. They were supposed to be on a case. But John couldn't focus on what the case was; he couldn't even remember what the perpetrators descriptions were, all he could picture was the image of Sherlock, standing in their kitchen, his black leather trousers leaving nothing to imagination, those small plastic buttons straining to cover the expanse of flesh across the tall man's chest and that hair. The hair that was gelled and swept aside from his forehead, the natural looking tan making his wolf-like eyes more prominent and his teeth whiter than white. God. He was in love with the man.

John groaned into a paper towel as he dried his face.

The mindless thumping of the beat to the previous tune outside dulled out and a new beat began; signalling a change of song. John knew this one and its' dangerously low bass guitar line. He looked determinedly back into the mirror in front of him before grasping the confidence he required and opening the bathroom door.

Sherlock stood where John had left him, propping up the bar. At the sudden light from the open bathroom, he had turned and his eyes widened at the sight of a determined John Watson.

Just as the lead guitar kicked in, John made his way across the space between them, walking in time with the music. He grasped Sherlock's hand from the bar just as the lyrics kicked in.

"When you look you see right through me,
Cut the rope, fell to my knees,
Born and broken every single time"

Making time for a wordless glance into the bright, surprised eyes he found looking at him, John turned and led Sherlock onto the dance floor, nearing a pillar.

'Always keep me under finger,
That's the spot when you run to me,
Might see some type of pleasure in my mind'

With new-found cool-ness, John threw momentum into Sherlock's arm, spinning him and almost throwing him forcefully against the pillar. Sherlock's back connected with the white pillar in time with the heavy beat of the music.

Sherlock stared into John's dangerous eyes as the Doctor placed a hand flat against the taller man's chest.

'Yeah, here comes the water,
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I
This time you see'

At the sudden slow change to music, John's other hand released Sherlock's and joined its companion on his chest. John ran his fingers shamelessly up from their current position to the Detective's neck before running each one down both arms, once he had reached both delicate hands, he grasped them and yanked Sherlock forward from the pillar.

Sherlock hopelessly went where he was guided, his facial expression giving away his innocence.

John was fuelled by this as he dangerously ran a dominating hand across the sociopath's chest once more whilst walking around him. John had to display to every one of those girls that Sherlock was his and was not for the taking; and he thought he was doing a damn good job of it.

'When you seek me you destroy me,
Rape my mind and smell the poppies,
Born and bloodied every single time'

John turned to face Sherlock once more in front of him and without warning Sherlock stepped his left leg forward, John mirrored him as best he could, dropping his hand from the taller man, he stepped his right leg backward. Wordlessly they danced without touch.

'Always keep me under finger,
That's the spot where you might linger,
But I see some type of pleasure in my mind'

John stepped to the side and turned his back to the consulting detective, who loyally followed in tow, spooning the doctor and bringing his left arm up he lay it against John's chest, encircling him but not dominatingly so, they walked simultaneously forward in time with the music, John's back to Sherlock's chest.

'Yeah, here comes the water,
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I,
This time you see,
Like holy water,
It only burns you faster than you'll ever dry,
This time with me'

During the guitar solo, Sherlock grasped John's arm and whipped him around to face him, his eyes dark and dangerously smouldering.

Grasping one of John's hands, Sherlock began to twirl him around miraculously mirroring the beat of the erratic tune with his movements; ever the delicate dancer.

Of course, John thought numbly, why shouldn't the man that is good at everything be the Worlds best dancer?

There was no softness in either face as the men frantically moved and almost ground against each other.

Once the instrumental had come to a close, Sherlock placed a forceful hand on the centre of John's chest as the Doctor had done previously and pushed him backward.

'When you look you see right through me,
Cut the rope, fell to my knees,
Born and bloodied,
Every single time,

Yeah, here comes the water,
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I,
This time you see,
Like holy water,
It only burns you faster than you'll ever dry
This time with me'

As the maddeningly dark music drew to a close, Sherlock had pushed John back half way across the dance floor and had him pinned to the pillar with the last beat in a reverse position of how John had started this bizarre ritual.

The two men breathed heavily as the beat disappeared, their eyes narrowed at each other as they shared a stare. Eventually, Sherlock dropped his hand and stood back, John fixed his shirt collar as he glanced around them, the dance floor theirs for the taking as several on-lookers watched with interest.

As the next song started, John made to walk from the dance floor. Sherlock reached out quickly without looking and grabbed John's hand, pulling it close and consequently turning the shorter man toward him.

Sharing a softer glance, John recognised the song as Rihanna's, he liked it. The beat couldn't have been more different from their previous dance as the intro progressed.

Sherlock's eyes danced over John's change of facial expression; reading him easily. He gave a tiny, almost unnoticeable, shake of his head as he catalogued this moment.

'Te Amo, Te Amo,
She says to me,
I hear the pain in her voice,
Then we danced underneath the candelabra,
She takes the lead,
That's when I saw it in her eyes, it's over.'

John allowed a glance towards the night club's ceiling to see a golden chandelier high above them. He smiled in disbelief.

'Then she said Te Amo,
Then she put her hand around me waist–' - Sherlock raised his right arm and wrapped it securely around John's waist, pulling him close, he started to sway them gently to the music as John raised his own arms to wrap around Sherlock comfortably.

'I told her no,
She cried Te Amo,
I told her I'm not gonna run away,
But let me go,
My soul is awry,
Without asking why,
I said Te Amo,
Wish somebody'd tell me what she said?
Don't it mean –'

"I love you" John whispered in time with the music, completely wrapped up in the moment as he stared up into the watchful eyes of his flatmate.

'Think it means I love you,
Don't it mean I love you'

'Te Amo, Te Amo,
Shes scared to breathe,
I hold her hand, I got no choice' – Sherlock's other arm reached down to take the Doctors' own that was loosely hanging by his side. Bringing them up, Sherlock watched them as they intertwined in mid-air before he rested them against his own chest, looking down at John once more, his expression unreadable.

'Pulled me out on the beach, danced in the water,
I start to leave,
She's begging me and asking why it's over' – It hit John with full force that this was the end of their platonic friendship. There was no denying that this was the beginning of something powerful; something that he had been objecting to for some time.

'Listen we can dance,
But you gotta watch your hands' – Sherlock smiled, John was reminded briefly of a smug cat as he watched the taller man in complete awe.

'Watch me all night, I'm movin' to the night because I understand,
That we all need love,
And I'm not afraid
To feel the love but I don't feel that way' – Sherlock's head tilted slightly as though contemplating something; his breath ghosted over John's face and made the shorter man shiver involuntarily.

'Think it means I love you,
Te Amo
Te Amo
Don't it mean-' Sherlock's approach was slow as he bent his neck; bringing his lips to John's ear in order to whisper the last three words of the song for John's ears only.

"I love you"

John's eyes closed in pleasure as he felt Sherlock's voice wash over him. The song drew to a close and the men stopped their swaying. Still holding on to one another; Sherlock lifted his lips to John's temple and placed a gentle kiss to the blonde hair he found there.

The next song emanated loudly from the speakers and caused the majority of the females in the club to invade the dance floor. John looked up at Sherlock with an expression that said 'let's go'.

The 'Single Ladies' of the club began to synchronise dance to the well – known song by Beyonce as Sherlock unwrapped himself from the shorter man and walked toward the exit, John's hand still firmly twined with his own.

The Doctor's mind was reeling as he was tugged along by the silent Detective, the night air braced John's face as he watched taxi's pass and drunken individuals crawl by.

Eventually, the soldier noticed that they were headed towards the Thames, not Baker Street.

"Where are we going?" John whispered in the quiet stillness as he followed Sherlock up the steps onto the Jubilee Bridge. Sherlock stopped and leant against the railings, admiring his city; lit up with many twinkling lights. John stopped beside him and squeezed his hand gently, listening to the gentle lapping of the water below them.

"Well, with a nights' work in the bag, I thought we might enjoy a stroll" Sherlock said with a glance down at his companion as a smile washed his face for only a brief second.

"Wait, you managed to see the gang in there?" John asked in a fluster. "I thought that our dancing was-"

"That was the mission tonight, John. Don't you see?" Sherlock sighed heavily at John's confused expression. "Tonight was not about the work, John. It was about us"

John's furrowed brow burrowed further as he looked up at Sherlock with an open mouth; the warm summer's breeze fluffing his hair slightly.

"Today, at the crime scene," Sherlock started, taking a breath and looking out to Westminster once more. "I saw the longing in your eyes; I knew instantly that you were innocent of the knowledge that we have been dancing around each other for some time. I had to take action because I cannot stand it anymore. I didn't know how else it could be done. The women in there – I paid them to approach me. I organised the music choices too, I needed you to come to your own conclusion. It was a simple question of Music induced Chemistry. Overall, a very successful operation" Sherlock finished with another brief smile.

John closed his mouth as he, too, looked out at London, watching the slowly rotating tourist attraction across the water.

"What now?" the Doctor asked timidly after a while.

"I do not know" Sherlock said grudgingly, pursing his lips together and focusing his attention on the London Eye also. "I hadn't thought this far ahead".

John let a snort of laughter escape his throat much to Sherlock's surprise.

"Well I do" John said, bravely or drunkenly – he hadn't quite decided which – he pulled Sherlock towards him by his hand. Leaning up on his tip-toes, John snatched a kiss from the Sociopath.

It was only a brief press of lips, but it was enough for Sherlock to untangle his hand from John's and instead wrap his arms around the shorter man's waist. John smiled against Sherlock's lips before leaning against the taller man's chest and relaxing the kiss.

Lazily, they deepened their kiss and sighed contentedly simultaneously.

Breaking apart, John rested his nose and forehead against Sherlock's.

"You knew, all along, you knew didn't you?" John whispered with a smile, his eyes remaining closed.

"Yes" Sherlock whispered back.

"You sod" John said with a huff of laughter.

"And yet, you still love me" Sherlock mused, nudging John's nose with his own.

"I do" John said breaking apart from the genius. "Do we have to go home? Can't we just stay out tonight?" John asked.

Sherlock raised one eyebrow questioningly as he looked down at the Doctor.

"What do you suggest?" He asked.

"Food? Another club? A night out with my new partner?" John suggested with a grin.

Sherlock reciprocated with his own grin, his rarely seen youthfulness surfacing for a brief moment.

"Dirty dancing?" Sherlock asked with both eyebrows raised.

John grinned wider as his eyes sparkled in the dark.

"Naughty Doctor Watson" the Detective chided teasingly before grasping the hand that was offered to him and following the excited Soldier off the bridge and into the Saturday night town.

-To be continued-

…If you like it O_o