So Put Another Dime in the Jukebox, Baby
Sherlock Holmes can barely believe his eyes. His unfailing, hawk-like, incredibly accurate eyes are currently telling him that Molly Hooper is currently less than ten meters away from him, wearing something other than her usual baggy pants and kitten jumpers. Though those two aren't exactly surprising things, it only adds to the shock of seeing Molly Hooper dance.
And dance really really well.
He's known Molly for just a bit less than a decade now, and he's basically seen everything there is to see about her. Heck, he's even seen her naked one time, but that was excusable considering she had been drugged and tossed into the Thames by one of his enemies, and she would've died of hypothermia if he didn't get rid of her wet clothes. He's heard her sing and hum, sometimes well and sometimes out of tune, he's seen her cook and burn herself and trip over words and trip over her own legs. He's seen her present her research findings to her peers and he's seen her keep secrets from the world. He's seen her laugh until she couldn't breathe and cry so much that she collapsed from the exhaustion.
Before tonight, he thought he had seen everything from Molly Hooper and he thought he had deduced everything he could deduce about her, but alas, there's always something.
Her technique shows quite a bit of training, the execution of her moves cannot be replicated by someone who just casually dances every weekend.
His mind whirls. What kinds of secrets does Molly Hooper have in her back pocket? As he watches her dance her contemporary dance, he almost doesn't want to believe that this is the same woman that fiddles with her sleeve when she's nervous.
No sign of nervousness now.
He takes a look around and it doesn't take him more than three minutes to spot the suspect, and a small splat of blood at the bottom of his trousers is all the evidence Sherlock needs before he texts Lestrade to come arrest the man in the blue shirt near the bar. Tucking his phone back in his pocket, he turns his attention back to the dance floor and he sees that Molly's dance has ended.
He feels an odd sense of loss.
Note: It might not be the dancing itself that pulled Sherlock, but more so the idea that Molly can feel confident and beautiful by herself without him putting her down. But hey, he could always put another dime in, right?