Take My Hand and Dance with Me
Sherlock flung his coat out behind him, swinging it onto his back. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and shuffled his coat onto his shoulders, pulling his scarf out from under the lapels.
The deep, booming bass of the wedding music still pounded in his ears and he had a headache starting to pulse just beneath his temples. He was going to go back home, he was going to get out of this suit, and he was going to sleep. Well, he was actually probably going to have a long, hot shower and then curl up under the blankets in bed.
"Sherlock!"
Sherlock paused with his fingers on his lapels, his coat collar brushing the underside of his chin. Voice, female. Young. Given his overall lack of friends, especially female ones in particular, there were limited options. Janine had been too intrigued with her dance partner so it meant...
"Molly," he said, glancing slightly over his shoulder.
"Where are you going?" she asked, coming up behind him.
Sherlock sighed through his nose and turned around, facing her. He gave her a fake, cheerful smile. "Oh, you know. I've done my bit; now I'm heading home. Experiments to do, cases to work on."
Molly frowned. "You don't have a case... or any experiments."
"Oh, are you keeping track now?" Sherlock asked dryly.
Molly shifted, drawing the heels of her shoes out of the ground. "No, I just... I know when you're at the lab, is all."
Sherlock smiled again. "Of course you do. What about... uhm... Tom?"
"What about him?" Molly asked quickly.
"You were dancing with him... weren't you?" he asked. "Isn't that the sort of thing you do at a wedding? Dance with loved ones?"
"You're not dancing with loved ones," Molly shot back.
Sherlock laughed slightly, glancing over Molly's shoulder to the windows. He was sure that no one had noticed his absence. By the time John did, it wouldn't matter anymore.
"Dancing... not really my thing, Molly," he lied, looking back at her.
"You were going to dance with that one girl. The bridesmaid. You were looking for her. Who is she?" Molly asked critically.
Sherlock tilted his head. "One of Mary's bridemaids. Her name is Janine. I was trying to find her a suitable date for the night, but my talents were no longer necessary, it seemed."
Molly stared at him before looking away. "I wanted to make sure you were alright," she said quietly.
"Of course I'm alright. The attempted murder wasn't on me."
Molly looked back up again. "Attempted murder?"
Sherlock smiled wryly. "Not a big deal."
Molly frowned. "Okay, but I meant more... emotionally."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows silently.
"It's John wedding," Molly explained. "And you're leaving early without saying goodbye. Which means-"
"Let me guess, Molly; it's another 'I look sad when he's not looking' thing, isn't it?" Sherlock interrupted. "Make your own deductions, Molly. I'm going home."
"Sherlock."
He stopped again, not looking back.
"John isn't going to leave you, Sherlock. Things may change but he's not going to leave you. I know him, Sherlock. He's never going to leave you."
Sherlock closed his eyes.
"And Mary, she's lovely; she likes you. But don't think we're going to just up and leave you, Sherlock. We love you the way you are. Nothing's going to change just because of a little wedding."
Sherlock sighed. "Oh, Molly. You're so naïve."
"No, I'm not; this is exactly what you're thinking is going to happen. That's why you're leaving early. Why can't you see, Sherlock?"
Sherlock opened his eyes and stared towards the trees for a moment before turning to face her again. "I see you've been drinking tonight."
Molly frowned again. "What? No, just the champagne..."
"You're bolder than usual," Sherlock explained, taking a half step forward and drawing Molly close to his chest.
Although, apparently not too bold, because she let out a little squeak as he pressed her close to his body. Her entire face was deep red and Sherlock laughed from deep in his chest.
"Dance with me," he said quietly, draping his arms around her waist.
"What?"
"Dance with me," he murmured, resting his chin against the top of her head.
"I thought... I thought you didn't dance," Molly replied, embarrassment and awkwardness quaking her voice.
"I lied," Sherlock whispered.
Molly laughed weakly and snuck her arms around his back. Sherlock didn't admit that this wasn't proper dancing procedure, just let her faux-hug him as they swayed slightly to the music.
"... Maybe the next wedding will be yours, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said quietly.
Molly looked up slightly. "Do you think?"
"I said it before," Sherlock said. "You deserve it. And not everyone is a psychopath. Or a sociopath."
"I like sociopaths," Molly muttered against his chest.
Sherlock laughed again. "And that's something that you probably shouldn't admit out loud. The sociopaths might start liking you back," he whispered before pulling away.
He turned and fixed his scarf, leaving the remnants of memories passed behind him as he walked away.
Inspired by Lady Juse - because she persuaded me the final bit I needed to write some Sherlolly for this.
Sherlolly makes everything a little brighter. (I still ship Janlock, but Sherlolly is cute, too. I'm mostly for the platonic, though...) I do not own Sherlock. Thank you!