Disclaimer: I own nothing at all...well other that the word arrangement...but the characters are not mine
Rating: M for kissing and suggestive themes MxM
Summary: John is alone and can't help but let his thoughts wonder to Sherlock and all the things he left unsaid. Post Reichenbach
John sat alone staring at his computer screen; the date had changed and now read June 16th. It had been too long and Sherlock was gone. John rubbed his eyes and pulled away from the screen and headed for the kitchen. Slowly he began to prepare a cup of tea for one…always for one now a days. As the water warmed John rubbed his leg, his limp had returned with a vengeance. Although he knew the limp was all in his head he could not help but hurt.
Settling down in the chair with his tea John turned the lamp on and grabbed an old book he had been reading on art history. Sherlock may be gone but the bad guys were not and John wanted to be able to help. His eyes were tired and the book was a bit tedious and repetitive, or to phrase it another way…boring. John rubbed his leg again and before he could wonder why it hurt the way it did rain began to pour.
John closed his eyes and let his mind begin to wonder. It drifted to the first day he met Sherlock, he had a limp then as well. Sherlock had cured it by tricking him into running. From things they had done to things he wished they had done things he had left unsaid. He had always wanted to ask Sherlock to dance; he had liked dancing but was not able after returning from Afghanistan. John slowly drifted asleep with thoughts of dancing around a deserted ballroom circling his head.
John stood in the center of an old rundown and deserted ball room in a full three piece tux. He looked around confused as to what was happening and got no answer. Slowly music began to fill the room, it was a piano and he knew the tune as London calling. Again John glanced around the room this time however he spotted a piano in the corner and a lone woman in a simple red dress playing the tune. John recognized her, it was the sweet girl that owned the horse ranch just outside London, her name is Emmy, as he recalled.
The tune continued and as it did the ruins of the ballroom began to repair around him. The once crumbled ceiling looked brand new, the shattered glass of the windows found its way back into place. When the tune finished Emmy sat back just waiting for the request to start again. John just watched her mystified and so failed to notice the clacking of shoes making their way towards him. A light tap on John's shoulder caused him start, but not as much as the sight that greeted him upon turning around.
John stood face to face with Sherlock Holmes in a matching white three-piece tux. John opened his mouth to speak only to have Sherlock's lips placed against his to silence him. When they parted Sherlock spoke before John could, "Doctor John Watson I would be ever so honored if I could have this dance." Sherlock nodded to Emmy who began to play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata for them to dance to. Sherlock slowly led John to the center of the room and placed his hand on the shorter mans hips pulling him in closely.
Slowly they danced allowing the music and the presence of each other to completely fill the room. Emmy continued to play even after Sherlock and John had stopped dancing and started kissing. The kisses where sweet tender and longing for more. They where special to the two of them and for them alone seen by no one save for the pianist still playing Beethoven.
John spoke out loud nothing more than a faint whisper saved for the man he cherished. "I love you," he whispered softly and repeatedly into the ear of one Sherlock Holmes. Three simple words but they carried with them so much more than that. They where the words John had never said the ones left unspoken; the words he thought lost after Sherlock had gone. Yet here they were being both whispered and returned by Sherlock.
John awoke alone in 221B with only the light of the lamp he had been reading by to show any sort of visibility in the otherwise pitch black room. Sitting up he discovered somebody had placed a blanket over him, probably Ms. Hudson he assumed. John took a sip of his tea but placed it back quite quickly as it had gone cold. He took a deep breath rubbed his leg and began to tear up because Sherlock was gone and they would never have their dance.
Rising John began to head for his room when ever so quietly as if by a silent whisper a voice came from the couch.
"Hello John, did you know you talk in your sleep and I do believe we have a dance to finish."
*Fin*
AN: I originally had posted this on Tumblr but I thought I would also post it here. I wrote it for a friend her name is thereisnosherlockholmes on tumblr, she is awesome. She had asked for a Johnlock fic with them dancing so this is the result I hope you like it.