To Find a Fire
Chapter One
A/N: Special thanks to our wonderful beta Josy! In case you're curious, ages for most of characters range from late teens, to early twenties. Thanks so much for reading, and please review :)
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC
At five o'clock a.m., John Watson is awoken by his screeching alarm clock. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stumbles out of his scanty bedroom, and makes his way to the bathroom he shares with his three flatmates. John takes his time in the shower, scrubbing his skin until it is bright pink. The scalding water streams from the shower head, racing along the contours of his back and continuing in a drizzly cascade down John's fit body. In the privacy of the dingy bathroom, he smiles, and allows himself to daydream.
Reluctantly, John tears himself from the comforting heat of his shower. The floor tiles are cold against his wet feet as he dries himself off with a ratty towel. He wraps the towel around his waist and thoughtfully studies his face in the foggy mirror, running his fingers through his short blonde hair.
Today is one of the most important days of his career.
John dresses quickly and silently exits his tiny flat, careful not to disturb his still sleeping roommates, Mike and Bill. His third roommate, Greg, must have already left for the studio. He, like John, is a dancer for The London Ballet Company. In fact, Greg is the one to help get John his position in the company at the beginning of the year. John had been dancing since he could walk, and took ballet classes all throughout his adolescent years; however, he had never danced professionally. Because Greg has been a respected member of the ballet company since he was eighteen, his good word helped get John an audition, despite the fact that he had no prior professional experience.
John exits his flat and blends seamlessly into the buzzing crowd on the busy London sidewalk. He enters the grimey tube station and barely manages to catch his train before it begins to creep away. The subway is filled to the brim with various commuters, some sipping steaming coffees, others flicking through the morning paper.
After exiting the tube and doing his best to avoid becoming completely drenched by the customary London downpour, John arrives at the ballet studio.
He's late; warm ups have already begun, and John is welcomed by several annoyed glares as he walks through the door. He hurriedly stashes his duffel bag in the men's dressing room, stripping off layer after layer of cozy cable knit sweaters as he goes. John then sprints back to the rehearsal hall, and breathlessly takes his place at the barre.
"Had to catch up on our beauty sleep, did we?" a familiar voice jokes quietly from behind John. He doesn't bother to turn around, but lightheartedly answers, "Aw, shove it, Greg." He chuckles, and a nearby dancer angrily shushes the two men. John turns to Greg and rolls his eyes before focusing on warm-ups.
John rapidly becomes absorbed in the morning exercises, alternating between first and fifth position. He moves in sync with the rest of the company as the dance instructor, Madame Hudson, calls out combinations.
"Tendu à la seconde."
"Port de bras forward."
"Combré back."
John call feel the sweat beginning to creep down his temples as the company begins the adagio portion of morning exercises. For a while, he forgets everything but his own movements. Dancing is like second nature for John, despite the fact that most people are surprised to hear that he's a professional danseur. He's a rather small, solidly built man, not tall and lean as male ballerinas typically are. Regardless of this, John is an exceptional dancer. He has a remarkable strength that allows him to perform moves that few others in the company can accomplish.
As the pianist begins to play Beethoven's Appassionata, John glances up and catches Mary's eye in the mirror. Mary Morstan is without a doubt the most talented female dancer in the company. She moves with a steadfast determination, every step precise and unwavering. Once John is sure Mary isn't looking, he admires her slim figure, and watches as she effortlessly moves in unison with the company. He's positive she will get the lead in the highlight of this year's season, Romeo and Juliet.
If only I could get the part of Romeo, then she'll have to kiss me, John thinks to himself with a smirk. The thought of dancing close to Mary distracts John, and he loses his balance. He stumbles for a moment, and feels Madame Hudson's glare from across the room.
Shit, John thinks, cursing his absent mindedness. Of all the days to screw up...
Today is the day that the cast for Romeo and Juliet will be decided. John can feel the nervous anticipation welling like a pit in his stomach. He has only been a member of The London Ballet Company for a couple of months, so this is his first real chance to land a starring role.
Suddenly, Madame Hudson claps her hands, and the piano music ceases. Every dancer in the room halts mid-plie, and awaits her instruction.
"As I'm sure you are all aware, today is the day that the cast for this season's big feature, Romeo and Juliet will be announced. I have been keeping an eye on each of you, and for the most part have decided who will have which role. However, I wish to see a few dancers perform individually before I make my final decisions," Madame Hudson clears her throat, before continuing in a louder voice, "If I call your name, please meet me in Studio Two immediately. Irene Adler."
A dark haired woman woman confidently strides out of the rehearsal hall. John recognizes her as one of the company's stronger ballerinas, having starred in several shows in the previous seasons. John wonders if perhaps Irene will land the role of Juliet, and not Mary, although he hopes this won't be the case.
Madame Hudson continues to call out names, and the lucky dancers chosen make their way towards Studio Two. John listens attentively, eagerly hoping that his name will be the next listed off.
"Greg Lestrade," she calls, and John shoots Greg an enthusiastic thumbs up.
"Sherlock Holmes," From the corner of his eye, John notices as a statuesque man with dark curly hair and opalescent skin determinedly strides out of the room. John begins to grow nervous as Madame Hudson lists off more and more names.
It's going to be fine, all fine, he tries to reassure himself. Lead role or not, it's all fine. Still, he can't help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment at the thought of another ensemble position.
"Mary Morstan," John glances over to Mary, and beams broadly at her. However, she doesn't notice; instead, she practically sprints out of the room, obviously relieved to have her named called. John is happy for her, although his heart sinks at the thought of another man being the Romeo to her Juliet.
Madame Hudson seems to be approaching the end of her list, and John has accepted that he didn't get the lead this time. Ah well, he thinks to himself. It's not like I expected much different. After all, I've only been in the company for a few months. It's only natural that members who have been involved for several years get the lead roles-
"And finally, John Watson."
John's breath catches as the words register in his mind. Several people across the room groan in disappointment, and John notices multiple dancers scowling directly at him, but he can't compel himself to care. He throws his shoulders back and walks confidently towards Studio Two, spirits soaring sky high.
"Romeo and Juliet," Madame Hudson starts upon entering the studio. The two dozen dancers scattered about the room are silent, giving her their full attention. "Romeo and Juliet is without a doubt one of the best known stories in all of literature. It's a tale of love, rivalry, passion, and in the end, tragedy," she pauses, and looks around at the dancers. "In order to make this performance a true show stopper, I wish to do something something different this year. Something that hasn't ever been done before," she smirks. "You'll see what I mean by this when the cast list is posted this evening."
The dancers are perplexed, John included. He wonders what Madame Hudson has planned for the big show, and if he might have any place is this different, daring big plan.
"Since I called each of you here, that means I see potential in you," Madame Hudson smiles, looking around at the dancers. "You will each perform an individual showcase for me today. When you dance, don't try to embody any specific character from the story; rather, dance from your heart. Let your movements come from a very special place within yourself. Any member of this company can dance according to a textbook. That's not what I'm looking for in this show. For Romeo and Juliet, I need a few very special people willing to bear their hearts and souls. I need people willing to get so absorbed in the story, they live, breath, and sweat Romeo and Juliet."
John looks over to Greg, who shrugs.
"Any questions?" Madame Hudson asks. "No? Alright, let's begin," the elderly ballet instructor presses a button on a nearby CD player, and the Prokofiev's opening theme for the ballet begins to echo throughout the studio.
The first ballerina to perform is a young woman with fiery red hair pulled up in a stiff bun. As she beings, the other dancers remain seated on the wooden studio floor, occasionally stretching their arms and legs to remain lissome until their time to audition.
John watches his fellow dancers with a nervous anticipation. He's unsure if his own performance can surmount that of his peers. Each ballerina's performance seems better than the last. Let's just hope that I don't get up there and embarrass myself, he thinks.
Greg's solo is very masculine, and he moves almost like a tempest. He twists and turns aggressively, as if he's being torn apart from the inside. John is sure that Greg will land one of the lead roles, as he usually does. Once he finishes his dance, he smiles triumphantly and takes his seat beside John.
"That was brilliant, mate," John whispers. "I hope as I can do half as well."
"Thanks," Greg says, still grinning. "and don't worry yourself, I'm sure you'll be fantastic."
John smiles half heartedly. "Let's just hope I don't screw this up..." He turns from Greg to watch as the Adler woman begins to dance. Her movements are fierce, yet seductive, and she dances with an almost wicked quality that reminds John of the Sirens in Greek mythology. She's the sort of woman who could eat a man alive, John can't help but think to himself.
"Excellent, Miss Adler," Madame Hudson comments once the woman finishes her piece. Irene stalks off the floor looking very pleased with herself, her hips swaying with each step.
Mary is next, and John can feel himself soften as she begins to dance. He watches her every movement with boyish admiration, noticing how her rosy skin and golden hair piled delicately upon her head give her an almost ethereal quality. Every one of Mary's pirouettes is impeccable, every fouetté en tournant the very definition of perfection. John can't imagine a better Juliet.
She finishes her dance, legs straight and arms forward. John imagines what it would be like to take that tiny figure into his arms, and be her partner in an eternal pas de deux. He's so absorbed in his fantasy he almost doesn't notice Madame Hudson calling him forward.
"John Watson," she repeats irritably, sending John a reprimanding frown.
"Sorry," John stammers, getting to his feet. He hears giggling behind him, and turns to see Irene Adler whispering in another ballerina's ear. Irene smirks at him, and John can feel the embarrassed heat flushing his cheeks.
He musters up all the confidence he can, and walks to the center of the floor. "Dance of Knights" begins to play, and John forces himself to focus solely on his dancing. As he moves to the sonorous melody, he begins to forget about the other people in the room with him. As the tune softens, John closes his eyes; he forgets about all that this audition means. He forgets everything, his movements coming from within himself, without any particular rhyme or reason except that it feels right.
This is his passion. This mindless exhilaration is what he lives for, the reason why he dances. In this moment, nothing else matters except that he feels gloriously alive.
As the song ceases, John breathlessly finishes his performance.
"Excellent!" John is brought back into reality by Madame Hudson's booming praise. "This is precisely what I mean when I say dance from your soul." She looks into John's eyes and smiles. "Great job, John Watson."
The young man happily nods, and takes his seat, feeling as if he's in a dream.
"That was bloody fantastic!" Greg claps John on the shoulder as another danseur begins his performance. "I knew you were a good dancer, but I had no clue you had that in you."
John shrugs. "I dunno, mate. I just did what felt right, I suppose." He beams, his heart soaring. Maybe I have a shot at the lead role after all, he thinks hopefully.
John sits restlessly through the remainder of the exhibitions. He doesn't pay the other dancers much mind, but instead ponders his own chances of success. Finally, the last dancer is called to the floor.
"Sherlock Holmes."
The dignified young man makes his way to the floor with utmost grace. He has a delicate strength about him, John notices, with his infinitely long limbs and piercingly sharp cheekbones. His eyes are an almost incomprehensible fluorescent blue, and they make him appear distant and all knowing. He poises himself, and is still as he waits for the music to begin.
Prokofiev's "Love Theme" suddenly fills the room, and Sherlock Holmes appears to melt. He moves himself with an ineffable fluidity, truly becoming one with the music in a way that John has never witnessed before. His every motion is transcendent, a marvel. John is entranced; he can't tear his eyes from Sherlock as the man serenely glides around the room. His radiance envelopes John in a diaphanous cloud, and makes him feel as if he is floating miles above the rest of the earth. John's heart grows heavy as Sherlock's celestial lullaby calms him to the point of near perfect tranquility.
It's over far too quickly. The music ends, and Sherlock stills himself once more. John can't help but feel a pang of sadness deep in his chest as the mysterious dark haired man takes his seat among the rest of the dancers.
"Wonderful, Sherlock, just splendid!" Madame Hudson crows. "Well now," she claps her hands, and addresses the group of dancers. "This has been quite the eye opener for me." She smiles. "The cast list shall be posted tonight, just after final rehearsals. Until then, you're all to resume your daily routines as usual."
The group of ballerinas begin to shuffle out of the studio, quietly murmuring as they go.
"So how are you feeling about casting?" Greg asks, catching up with John. The men walk together towards the rehearsal hall.
"Feeling alright, I suppose," John replies. "Got some pretty stiff competition though."
Greg chuckles. "You're right about that. But hey, the madame sure did seem impressed with you today."
"You think so?"
"Without a doubt," Greg smiles.
The two enter the rehearsal hall, and take their places among the rest of the company. Throughout the day, John tries to focus on the combinations, but can't stop his mind from going back to casting.
"Oi! It's posted!"
The men's dressing room erupts into chaos as the dancers scramble to catch a glimpse at the newly posted cast list. John's heart skips a beat, and for a moment he feels like he's going to be sick. He composes himself, taking a deep breath and thinking again and again, It's all fine.
John exits the dressing room and begins to make his way down the hallway towards the bulletin board where a crowd has gathered. He can hear some dancers cheering, others congratulating, and a few cursing as he draws nearer.
Suddenly, a loud shriek rings out over all clamor, and John spies Mary Morstan tearing through the group away from the bulletin board. Her small face is streaked with tears and flushed red hot in anger. A small group of younger ballerinas trail behind her, trying in vain to console her.
"This is a joke!" Mary shouts. "It's an abomination for crying out loud!" John watches as Mary continues to shout on her way out of the building. He frowns, and wonders if he should follow and try to comfort her, but thinks better of it and instead continues towards the bulletin board.
As he weaves through the dense crowd, people begin to stare at him. John, however, doesn't notice. His eyes are plastered on the piece of paper stapled to the board.
John's eyes quickly skim the paper, searching for his name. Finally, he finds it at the very top of the list:
Romeo: John Watson
John's heart soars, his mouth gaping is surprise. I can't believe it! he thinks, bewildered.
"Congrats, mate!" John turns and is met by Greg, who envelopes the shorter man in a massive bear hug. "You did it, Romeo!"
John grins sheepishly. "I did, I don't know how, but I did..."
"And hey, I got the role of Mercutio, so we get to be best mates on stage too, eh?" Greg laughs excitedly. "This is going to be great!"
John nods, still a bit discombobulated. "Yeah, great..."
Suddenly, a clear voice in John's ear catches his attention. "Good job, John Watson."
John turns and sees Irene Adler pushing her way out of the crowd. She turns, and winks at John before exiting the building.
Greg whistles. "I'd watch out for that one if I were you," he teases.
"You bet..." John replies absentmindedly. He thinks back to Mary, and her dramatic exit down the hallway. If I'm Romeo, John wonders, then who's Juliet...?
John turns his attention back to the list, and scans the names. Not Mary... he notices sadly, seeing that she's been cast as Rosaline. He continues up the list. Irene Adler has been cast in a role called Fate, John notices.
If not Mary or Irene, then who? he thinks, puzzled.
Finally, he finds Juliet on the list:
Juliet: Sherlock Holmes