"What, in God's name, are you doing?"
Sherlock snapped his hands down to his sides and spun around, his burgundy dressing gown flowing dramatically outward, to face John. "Listening to music," he decided.
"No," John laughed, "You were dancing."
Holmes pointedly sat on the couch, looking away from him, only his dark curls and neck in John's view. "Mozart's 27th Symphony in G, first movement - Allegro. Prominent violin," Sherlock spouted.
"You. Were dancing, don't try and change the subject." John knew he would roll his eyes at that, which is exactly what Sherlock was doing. A new piece started rolling lazily out of the speakers, a slower and more languid piece than the last. Sherlock laid down, throwing his robe over his legs that reached all the way to the other arm of the couch and crossed his arms. "You were dancing, Sherlock," John said, still bewildered.
"Mozart, piano concerto number 22, Andante," Sherlock muttered loudly, referencing the recent song pouring through the room.
"I never thought I would see the day."
"E flat, played by the London Symphony Orchestra," Sherlock said, "in case you were wondering."
"What I am wondering is why you were dancing with an invisible woman in your arms."
"Sexist, it could of been anyone," he retorted immediately.
"Ah, so you WERE dancing!"
He huffed and John laughed while getting out two mugs from the old and rusty cupboards and putting the kettle on.
Sherlock took the tea, still silent, and stayed that way as they listened to Mozart dancing through the rooms of 221 B.
Although that was not the last time John heard that certain album play in the flat, it was certainly the last time Sherlock ever got caught dancing.