A/N: Another story I just had to write after seeing the newest episode of Sherlock. I was sad he didn't get to dance so I wrote a sheriarty fic to cheer myself up.
Sherlock walked out, hoping no one saw him. Of course they didn't, he said to himself. They were all busy having fun and dancing.
He was walking down the path when he was pulled to the side. His baser instinct was to struggle, but something about the touch made him stop.
'Care to dance, dear?' came a familiar, Irish tone. A hand was placed on his waist, and the other one moved so it was pressed against his. He moved so they were both on the grass, and with his partner leading him, he began to waltz. Right foot moves down, then the left goes down and to the left before it's joined by the right. Then he moved his right foot upwards, before the left went up and to the right and was joined by the right one. He mirrored Jim's actions automatically, not even having to pay attention to his repeated movements as they danced.
'So why are you here?' he asked curiously.
'You were looking a little lonely,' explained Moriarty. 'And I noticed you didn't dance.'
'Checking up on me?' Sherlock asked, accompanied by a tilt of the head.
'No,' denied the consulting criminal. 'Don't be obvious. I just wanted to dance with you.'
'The grin on your face is suggestive of other things,' the detective remarked.
'I'm grinning because you make a good woman, Sherlock.'
'Don't insult me by lying to me, surely you're above that, Moriarty.'
'Fine,' Jim relented, as he began to manouver a right turn. 'I was bored, and none of my other toys are as good as you.'
'Thought so,' smirked Sherlock.
'I liked your speech.'
'You were in there?' How had I not noticed him?
'Only for your part, the rest was all very boring and procedural,' came the reply in that Irish accent that Sherlock secretly liked.
'I'm flattered that you took the time out of your busy schedule for me,' he said sarcastically. He was flattered, really, but there was no need to let on.
'Anything for you, my dear,' said Jim quietly. He kept glancing at Sherlock's lips. It was only a matter of moments, he knew, before Jim would kiss him, and then what? Then what would happen? Would it be a one off thing? Or would they go back to 221B? The uncertainy and the amount of possibilities was exciting.
Sherlock looked at him, a silent consent passing between them before he leaned in and pressed his lips against Jim's. They were sweet, not as he had expected- he had thought about it, but only for scientific purposes. They stopped dancing, and Jim's grip was stronger on his waist, pulling him closer. The hand that had been on his moved to the back of his head, keeping him in place as they kissed. It was short, and chaste, which was unexpected.
Jim pulled back, and Sherlock could see his pupils, blown with lust, in the light coming from the dance hall.
'Maybe we should go to Baker Street? John and Mary will be dancing for indefinite amounts of time yet, I'm sure we would have at least time for-'
He was cut off as Moriarty kissed him again. The word 'yes' was whispered against his mouth, and he grabbed Jim's loose hand before pulling it so they could catch a cab to 221B.