Hello! I had some odd urge to write a story to match an idea (I spent too much time listening to Eminem recently). So suddenly I found myself realizing that I could totally see John Watson dancing at college parties to Eminem. This might just be me...

Anyway, this is my first AU fanfic and my first finished fanfic for the Sherlock Fandom in general. I know it's most likely trash, but comments are always appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock (sadly) and I don't own the characters. And finally, please don't mind my use of Victor Trevor. I swear I wrote this literally minutes before sitting down to watch "The Final Problem," and let's just say things took an unexpected turn. I simply used the (updated) college version of Victor Trevor I found in "The Adventure of the Gloria Scott."

I stared ahead of me, my eyes locked on the figure in front of me.

Leith.

Agile.

Flexible.

Athletic.

Glorious.

The pulsating music and the flashing lights, which so easily irritated me before, suddenly faded to the background of my mind, unobserved for once in this dreaded year. Instead of fixating on the annoyances of the frivolous party, I could only focus on the blond haired bloke in front of me, dancing so wondrously on the dance floor. He was toned and muscular, no doubt a fit athlete, short but assertive. He held his own space on the floor, despite the fact that the girls surrounding him were moving in constantly on him. He seemed not to mind, for he simply danced a little to the left or a little to the right. He kept his space, but didn't ignore the attention. He smiled and laughed at the girls around him, but kept his hands to himself. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the man, mesmerized by his easy flow of dance moves and his natural ease around his fellow students. It was wondrous to watch.

With a touch to my shoulder, I shivered in surprise and broke out of my reverie. I twisted my head around to see the familiar figure behind me, an irritating smirk plastered over his lips. I tried to reign in the look of embarrassment on my face and the tranced look I'm sure I wore before he cut into my thoughts.

"Sherlock, what are you staring at? You haven't moved since I went to go get you a drink ten minutes ago," the man said, peering at me with curious eyes. Flushed, I looked away, staring at a couple in the corner of the room obviously looking for an excuse to leave their friends who were chatting with them. It was so obvious.

"Nothing, Victor," I mumbled.

He gave a disbelieving laugh. He handed me a plastic cup of beer, which I graciously took. I wanted to distract him from his question. I opened my mouth to say something about taking so long to get a drink, but he was too fast.

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock. I may not be as good of a reasoner as you, but I'm not stupid. I'm your roommate. I can tell when you're lying."

I glared at him, trying desperately to look irritated. He held my gaze for a moment, then broke it. I returned my gaze for a split second to the dance floor, just to check. Good, he was still there.

"Ha!" Trevor cheered, jumping in front of me, pointing an accusing finger in my face. My face crumpled in a look of annoyance and resentment. "See, Sherlock? I told you. You were lying. Just now, you peeked back at the dance floor, hoping to see the object of your observation once again. Am I not right?" He grinned triumphantly.

I rolled my eyes, retorting, "My, you're learning. Soon, you can just take over my job."

Victor ignored my sarcasm. "Now, let's see. You were watching so earnestly at something on the dance floor. Is there someone suspicious?"

I didn't answer, my look of annoyance unwavering.

Victor noticed, then shook his head. "I guess that's not it. So did you see something interesting? Deduce anything exciting?"

Still no answer.

He huffed in annoyance, but then a look of sheer excitement and surprise crossed over his features. He turned back to me with a sly grin.

"You noticed someone you like, didn't you?"

I could feel the color draining slowly from my face.

Victor's features changed from excited to just plain giddy. He laughed to himself, smiling from ear to ear as he observed my face. I squirmed under his knowing stare, my gaze shifting from him to the table next to me to the couples on the dance floor to the floor.

"Who would have ever guessed? Sherlock Holmes, the stone cold reasoner, deducer, crime-obsessed mastermind, who has been abhorrent of love since his birth, noticed someone? I never thought I'd see the day!"

I gave him another menacing glare, hoping it would shut him up, but to no avail. My silence and annoyance only spurred him on.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, and turned his gaze to the crowd in the direction that he caught me looking earlier. He hummed to himself as he thought, peering over the various students dancing in the throng of people. I hoped that he would give up on his curiosity and leave the subject , he once again failed to do as I'd hoped. Quietly, or at least as quiet as you could be at a college party, started to point out individuals. "So who is it? The cute brunette with the floral top?"

I shook my head. "An airhead whose failing most of her classes."

He raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew his question without him even asking it.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe I'd best keep my job from you. Her nails are so long that it would be nearly impossible to do any handwritten assignments without assistance. No one gets nails that long unless they're intentionally looking to impress the opposite gender."

He shrugged, content with my explanation. He looked over the people once more, and designated another. "How about the blonde in the plaid jacket?"

"She's more concerned with her dog and her boyfriend in the military. Not a good idea."

"The girl next to her with the yellow trainers?"

"Lesbian. And she's already hitting on the blonde."

"The redhead with the denim jacket?"

"Freshman."

"Blonde with the knee high boots?"

"You're really bad at this."

He shook his head, dumbfounded. "I thought I picked the best in the crowd, but they weren't the ones who caught your eye. I'm missing something."

I tried to keep my wandering gaze from settling on him, fearful that Victor would pick it up. But try as I might, I let my gaze linger a second too long, and I was caught.

A look of realization passed over his features, his eyes softening and a small but genuine smile replacing his cocky grin. I dropped my gaze to the floor, heat rushing to my ears, and I prayed that he had once again guessed wrong.

"Well, I must say your choice has got a skill for dancing."

My eyes shot up, first peeking at the figure spoken of on the dance floor, then returning to Victor. I knew I must have looked like a deer in headlights. I felt so exposed having Victor discover my secret obsession for the last few minutes.

He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "Not what I was expecting at first, but I don't mind." He must have noticed my embarrassment, for he gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Sherlock. I don't think of you any different. But honestly, it's such a cliche. The posh boy likes the life of the party."

A shot of excitement coursed over me, no doubt showing on my face. "You know him?"

He chuckled at my momentary excitement, but didn't mention it. "Sure. He's a medical student. John Watson, I believe. He's pretty smart, but I'm afraid that's all I can say. I don't know much about him besides that."

I turned my gaze from Victor to the man.

John.

He was still swinging to the music, a thumping rap song meant for dancing. He sang along with the words, his hands in the air with the rest of the crowd. He had a shake in his hips and his feet moved to the music. He moved with such ease and energy that it was compelling to watch. He was invariably the type to get others to gravitate towards him and dance along side him, his energy magnetic. The girls around him hadn't stopped clamoring for his attention, but he seemed to pay them no mind. He danced for himself, but to the benefit of everyone else. Nonetheless, an unpleasant feeling surfaced in my mind when I watched the girls around him, but I tried to repress it.

"So what do you think?" Victor's voice cut in.

"Magnificent," I mumbled, my eyes not leaving the man.

He laughed loudly, and for the second time that night, I broke from my thoughts and looked at the cackling man with a glare.

"That's not what I meant, Sherlock. What do you think you're going to do?"

I stopped for a second, unsure of what to say. I was content enough to sit here admiring him from the sidelines. I never thought about anything else.

"Sit here," I said warily.

Victor looked at me with pitying eyes. "Sherlock, please. This is the most interested I've seen you in something since the time I had to pull you out of the med students' final exam on the human brain before you got expelled. I am not about to let you sit here and let this moment pass you by. He's obviously not here to pick up girls, otherwise he'd be making some moves on the girls that are practically throwing themselves at him."

"I never thought about actually talking to him. I jut noticed him in the crowd. I make it my business to notice things that other people don't."

"Yeah, but what would you want him to come and talk to you?"

I didn't respond.

"Thought so. Listen, Sherlock. There's nothing wrong with noticing someone. It's human nature. It's normal."

"Listen to yourself, Victor. He may be normal, but I'm not."

He just gave me a sad smile. "Sherlock, I think you're extraordinary. And something tells me that just maybe that man may like things to be extraordinary."

I didn't answer him, instead thinking about what he said. I couldn't deny that I would not mind him coming over to talk. I hate to admit it, but I would actually be happy. But the thought of making my way over to him and striking up a conversation put a knot in my stomach and made my palms sweaty. Clear signs of nervousness. There was no way that I would be able to do that. And the chances of him coming over here on his own accord were even less likely. He never saw me, and if he had heard of me, there was a good chance he would think of me as odd as nearly everybody at this school did. There was no possibility for us to meet. I resigned myself to sit comfortably at the outskirts of the party and enjoy the view of him from a distance.

Victor gave a sigh, but realized that he wasn't getting very far. "Well, if you aren't going to go after him, I guess there isn't any way for me to help. Would you mind then if I found Sarah and took her to the floor? I know dancing to this kind of music isn't really your style."

I didn't take my eyes off of John. "Don't worry about me. I'm going to stay here. Have a good time."

With one last searching gaze, he nodded and turned towards the dance floor, no doubt looking for his girlfriend. I didn't mind. Having a view like this was better than dancing myself. I could enjoy myself easily here. And for the rest of the night, I didn't once get up to dance.

The morning after, I laid on my back, feet resting on my headboard and my head hanging over the edge of my bed. Damn these small college beds.

I kept my eyes trained on the ceiling, mulling over the events in my mind from yesterday. I doubted I would see John Watson again, since for the last two years we had not had a single class together. I briefly remember seeing him around campus once or twice, but I never paid much mind before. But last night, he just looked stunning. I couldn't get the image of him out of my mind, which was highly unusual.

I let out a sigh, somewhat relieved but simultaneously disheartened at the thought of the lost opportunity. There was no way that I could have talked to him eloquently had I gone up to him, and I definitely would have felt much too self conscious to dance anywhere near him. And there was no reason for him to seek me out, so I resolved myself to never seeing him again. I could save my memory of him to my mind palace, but that's all I'd get.

A sharp rasp at the door startled me, and I flipped off of my bed silently. Victor had a key to the door, and hardly any people visited the dorm except for Victor's girlfriend and the occasional student looking for assistance. I unlocked the door and pulled open the door.

I nearly fell over.

With a shy smile, the blond bloke peered at me with grey blue eyes. "Hi, are you Sherlock Holmes?"

I just blinked in amazement, my mouth hanging open.

John Watson just showed up to my door.

John came to me.

He gazed at me, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Realizing that he asked me a question, I stammered a reply. "Y-yes, that's me. Hello. And you are?"

He smiled at me and held out a hand. "John Watson."

My hand shook as I took his in mine, giving it a quick and weak shake before dropping it like hot coals.

"So, uh, what can I do for you? Victor is out at the library right now, so if you need him…"

He shook his head, effectively stopping my string of words. "No, I came looking for you."

I immediately felt my blood run cold. Had he caught me staring last night? Did someone else notice and tell him? Was he angry? Embarrassed? Offended?

"You see, I have a bit of a problem," John said. "I was hoping you could be of assistance. I'd like to give you a case."