"John?" Sherlock called to his friend from the kitchen. "Mmhmm?" Johns was sipping tea on his chair. "Harry's getting married." John nearly spit out his tea. He stood up abruptly and swallowed. "What? To who?" Sherlock snickered, "Clara." John grinned, "They'd gotten back together then, how long ago?" They broke up nearly a year ago, but then, John didn't talk to Harry much anymore. This, though, this was unexpected. "When?" John asked, still getting over the surprise. "Two months, and she has a special request…" Sherlock handed the invitation to John, who was now standing next to him in the kitchen.
"I would like a special dance with you," John read to himself. "Okay, put the date in the calendar." John went back and sat down, focusing on his tea. I can't dance, he thought. What am I going to do? The envelope was addressed to both Sherlock and John, so John assumed Sherlock was going too. Sherlock, reading John's mind, said "Yes, John, I'm going. I wouldn't let you go alone to your sister's wedding when it is in my knowledge that you won't know anyone there except your parents and I doubt you want to sit with them the whole time." John nodded a thanks, grateful he wouldn't be alone.
A month passed, then 5 weeks, then 6 weeks, then 7. One week until the day, and John still couldn't dance. He knew Sherlock could dance, knew he would help if only John asked, but John was embarrassed, would he think I'm an idiot for not being able to dance? Would he be willing to be patient? Something he often wasn't. John tried to learn, with YouTube videos and music, but without a partner it was hopeless.
Sherlock knew John couldn't dance. Knew he wanted help but hadn't asked. Sherlock wanted to dance with John, so badly he suppressed the urge to pop into John's room and grab his hand, swaying with each other and the beat, swiftly moving across the room. Sherlock longed for Johns hand on his, his hand on his waist, and John's on his shoulder. Standing outside John's door, Sherlock counted the times John missed a step, or stumbled, or cursed under his breath. Another 3 days and John was still as hopeless as when he started. He was getting desperate.
One night, John and Sherlock were sitting in their opposite chairs, silent. The steady splash of soft rainfall outside, and occasionally the clink of a cup being put back on its saucer. John hadn't really been reading the newspaper on his lap, he'd been thinking about how to ask Sherlock for help. John cleared his throat and prepared himself.
Sherlock smiled to himself, knowing that John was about to ask. Sherlock fought the urge to intervene and just get on with it, but he knew John needed to do this himself, so he stayed put. Patient. John looked at Sherlock and, clearly struggling, said, "Sherlock, um, I know this is a lot to ask, and you're busy on twitter, and may not want to, which is fine…" Stop stalling John thought to himself. "Teach me to dance?" John blurted, cheeks flushing. Sherlock's own took on a slight red tinge and slyly looked up. "Of course."
John exhaled in relief and stood up. Sherlock also stood up as well and pressed play on John's laptop, skipping through his playlist and found a slow song. Slow and easy. Sherlock hadn't heard the song before but John smiled when it came on, and it seemed slow, so Sherlock left it. Thinking out Loud by Ed Sheeran. Knowing the lyrics, John's cheeks burned, but relaxed when Sherlock approached him. "Place your hand on my waist." John did. Sherlock placed his hand delicately on John's shoulder and slid his hand into John's, feeling a spark and earning a shy smile. Sherlock diverted his eyes, not looking at John's soft stare.
Then they danced. Sherlock led and John followed, ignoring the song at the moment, but once John's stiff form relaxed, the natural movement continued and the boys listened to the song.
People fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand.
John blushed, now very aware of Sherlock's long slender fingers entwined in his, remembering the spark when they connected. Why am I thinking this? John thought, stiffening a bit. Sherlock bit his lip, thinking the same thing.
Oh me I fall in love with you every single day
Never once had John thought this, but now that it was in his head he couldn't get it out. The dance had become more of a forced movement.
So honey now
Take me into your loving arms
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars
Place your head on my beating heart
I'm thinking out loud
Maybe we found love right where we are
Right John thought, cheeks burning, that's enough. Pushing away from the young man, John pressed pause and shut his laptop. Clearing his throat, he said "Erm, I think I've got it, um, thanks." He walked into his room, ignoring the slightly hurt look in Sherlock's eyes.
The days continued, finally reaching the big day. John thought Sherlock looked very handsome in his fine suit, tousled locks and stormy eyes. Sherlock thought John looked stunning in his patterned shirt and tie, hair combed back. Noticing each other's glance, they averted their eyes. "Shall we?" Sherlock asked normally. John nodded and walked out the door and into the awaiting limousine.
The two men sat in silence to the wedding and throughout the service. During the after party they didn't talk much, John drank from the open bar and Sherlock focused his mind by deducing guests. The food was delicious, and then it was time for the dance. John danced with Harry, very well, not messing up his steps. Through the waltz, John congratulated Harry, and he truly was happy for her. As the song ended, John dipped Harry and they giggled. After a reminder to call her more often, John walked back to the table where Sherlock was sitting alone. "Well," John started. "We're not leaving yet." Sherlock said plainly. "I was just going to suggest grabbing a drink, for you and I, if you like." "Sure." Sherlock stated. John had just asked to be polite, he hadn't actually expected Sherlock to agree.
Baffled, John stood up and walked to the bar, picking up two whiskey's. John walked back to the table, setting the drink down in front of Sherlock and sipping his own. John sat, and Sherlock stood and held out his hand. "May I have this dance?" Sherlock blushed and looked down, not seeing the other man fit his hand into his own. "Yeah, alright." John said, a blush creeping in on his own.
Sherlock pulled John onto the dance floor, and expecting an upbeat song, or at most a waltz, what John heard was more. Thinking out loud by Ed Sheeran. Sherlock smiled at his personal request. John looked up at him, chuckling. John placed his hand on Sherlock's curved hip, shivering at the touch. He felt Sherlock's warm hand on his shoulder and as the song began they danced. Swift feet brushing the floor, just enjoying the smooth movement, moving as one.
Place your head on my beating heart
I'm thinking out loud
Maybe we found love right where we are
John stepped closer, wrapping both his arms around Sherlock's neck, placing his head on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock, surprised, placed his head on Johns and pulled him closer, wrapping his own arms around John's waist. This was their moment, and no one intervened.
Enjoying the warmth of each other, they didn't realize the song change into a fast, pop song. Someone tapped on John's shoulder and John pulled away, instantly regretting it. Biting his lip, he uttered, "Um, yeah?" It was the photographer. Looking a bit awkward, the man said, "Sorry to interrupt, but your sister wanted some pictures. "Oh, yeah, of course." John took Sherlock's hand and they smiled, posing for a few more, then the photographer nodded and walked off to bother someone else.
Yawning, Sherlock suggested they go out for some air. John tagged along behind Sherlock as he led the way out of the large elegant building. They sat on a wooden bench outside the front doors, enjoying the cool night air and the warmth as they sat close. The stars were clear and plenty, the crescent moon shining brightly down on them.
Sherlock looked at John. "Dance with me?" "But there's no music" John replied. "We'll make our own," Sherlock grinned and pulled up John. They fell into rhythm, the sound of crickets and wind and night around them, substituting in for their music. Both men were thinking about the same song though.
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars
And Sherlock did. He leaned down, fitting his mouth to John's, sweet and slow. John grabbed his suit and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. They pulled apart a couple minutes later, wrapped in each other's arms. "Did I ever tell you you're a great dancer?" John mumbled in Sherlock's ear, and the Holmes laughed into John's hair. "No, that's the first time you've thought that out loud." John cringed at the pun and smiled into Sherlock's neck, earning another long, sweet kiss.