Ritual Disclaimer I don't own anything Sherlockian.

Chapter 4

During the break, John and Sherlock finally let go of each other's hand and walked to the lobby. Feeling unusually solicitous, Sherlock went to get a sorbet for John. Upon his return, he found that oaf of a surgeon wrapping his arm around Sherlock's blogger. This is intolerable, thought Sherlock.

Sherlock could also see John's left hand clenching into a fist, a sure sign that John was ready to hit the insufferable Bigsby. Theoretically, Sherlock approved of such an action. However, he quickly determined that a physical altercation would either result in embarrassment or imprisonment for John. Neither result was acceptable.

Sherlock barged through the crowded lobby knocking aside anyone who ventured into his path. He pushed himself in between John and Bigsby. Sherlock did a half twirl and ended standing with his arm firmly around John's waist.

John was more than a bit confused about how Sherlock managed that maneuver but was reasonably satisfied with the result. As bonus, Sherlock handed John a dish of lemon sorbet.

John relaxed he fist, and he tasted the sorbet. Oddly, he noticed both Sherlock and Bigsby staring as he licked the cold lemon ice off the spoon. Weird, very weird thought John.

Sherlock became aware of Bigsby's shared interest in John's enjoyment of the sorbet. Sherlock assumed a pleasant smile, and introduced himself to the large beefy surgeon. Then Sherlock informed the interloper that he had once had to kill an assassin with his bare hands to protect John. Bigsby turned a bit grey around his mouth. He left with a muttered excuse.

"Well that was interesting," said John as he leaned into his best friend.

"No, it was necessary. Please attempt to stay out of trouble the rest of the evening John," said Sherlock somewhat menacingly. He did not release John.

"Did you really kill…" began John.

"Don't ask," said the detective distantly.

"O-Kay" said John uneasily.

A pretty blonde fluttered over smiling at John, "Why John, what a surprise I haven't seen you in months."

John smiled in greeting, "Hello Mary, don't you look lovely." John found it difficult to continue the conversation because the detective next to him was suddenly squeezing the air out of his lungs. John fought for air and a clever idea. The desperation of impeding hypoxia inspired him.

John carefully yet firmly elbowed his possessive date in the ribs. As the death grip released, he quickly blurted out, "Mary Morstan, please meet my date, Sherlock Holmes."

Mary's face fell, but Sherlock's face beamed. Way to go Three Continents, two birds with one stone. John actually bounced on his toes in appreciation of his own diplomatic handling of the delicate situation. After a minute of stilted small talk, Mary left to rejoin her party.

"Didn't you date her John?" asked the smirking detective. "I really don't think she's in your league."

"Why yes, I did. It didn't work out. I was actually interested in someone else, if you must know." John began to lick his spoon again. "Mmmm," he moaned innocently.

Sherlock was enthralled. The closer he watched John Watson, the more interesting he became. John's tongue snuck out searching for more sorbet. "Mmmm," said John again.

It was getting too hot. John was seriously provoking him now, yet Sherlock felt that actually attacking John in public would be a bit not good. John would have to stop licking that spoon, and the moaning must cease, at least until Sherlock could attend to it properly.

"John stop that," snapped Sherlock who still watched, mesmerized.

"Stop what?" asked the confused doctor. "Silly git. First you squeeze me near to death then you snarl at me." John began to bite his lower lip in confusion.

Oh for heaven's sake, now he's at that lip again. And it's mine. That is my lip. No doubt the upper lip is nice too, but the lower lip is plumper; it's perfect. I should claim it right now in front of the whole crowd.

John noticed as Sherlock's brows dropped and his eyes developed a predatory sparkle. John licked his lips nervously.

Fuel to the fire, thought the World's Only Consulting Detective. Sherlock tightened his grip around John's waist and leaned in to claim his prize.

Sherlock," said John preëmptively. "We'll go take our seats, shall we?"

Sherlock drew back regretfully, "Must we, John? The weather is quite dreadful…" began Sherlock with a manufactured pout.

John's resolve weakened at the sight of his date's out-thrust lower lip, but he remembered that he was a soldier. He was made of sterner stuff.

"Sherlock, we came all this way and you look so nice. I think we should stay for the rest of the ballet," countered John, using the combination of logic, compliments and his decisive officer's voice to overcome The Pout.

"John, do you really want to return to that kind but predatory woman who sat next to you?" returned Sherlock with a smirk and a knowing glance from the corner of his eye. Superior knowledge should overcome his stubborn doctor.

"How? How can you possibly know…" said John blushing.

Sherlock was impossible. Of course, John could not resist that look for long. He wanted to remove that all-knowing smirk with a passionate, toe curling kiss,but now was not the time.

John had only one weapon left in his arsenal, the puppy dog look. He dropped his gaze sadly, his brow furrowed. "Nevermind, look if you aren't having a good time, we'll just go." John licked his lips just once for good measure.

Sherlock could not watch the light go out of those blue eyes a second time tonight; he quietly acknowledged defeat with a sigh. "Come along John, we need to take our seats."

John proudly took Sherlock's arm, and led him to his seat. He was going to complete The Mission. He would take Sherlock on an official date, and then would confess his feelings. Only then could he give in to his desires and give that cupid's bow the treatment it so rightly deserved. That was how it should be done according to Captain John Watson. It was the right thing to do, the honorable thing.

The blue-haired lady suppressed a smile at John's satisfied strut. When John settled, she winked at Sherlock. The detective smirked at his date, then winked back vastly pleased with himself.

"And John, stop looking so smug. There is no need to look quite so vain when you take my arm." Sherlock whispered in John's ear. His lips lightly caressed John's ear.

John responded appropriately by tilting his head toward Sherlock's lips and blushing a brilliant claret color. However, he was still capable of coherent responses.

"Well I am with the best looking man in the room, of course I'm proud," said John.

Sherlock could hardly suppress his enthusiasm. Clearly, item 17, whispering and playing with John's ear, was the most effective protocol, and it was very pleasant for Sherlock. It was definitely not boring.

I shall be merciless. I will use item 17 throughout the rest of the performance. I will gain access to those lips by way of John's oh-so-tempting ear. He leaned in towards John in order to whisper information on the finer points of conducting.

John paid strict attention to the whispering in his ear and the occasional kiss his ear received from those coveted lips. However he could not remember a single word of Sherlock's instruction. Judging by the smirk on his face, the World's Only Consulting Detective was well aware of John's inability to concentrate on his music lesson.

John was content to hand this round to his detective. He grasped Sherlock's hand and idly played his fingers over, under and around the palm and the long, tapering fingers of his date. For John, the rest of the ballet passed in a delightful blur of music, dancing and magical sensations coming from his ear and his hand.

Sherlock was content to catalog his blogger's reactions and to lay the groundwork for item 23 of the John Watson Seduction Protocol.

Sherlock also found he didn't mind John's scent (a complex mix of vanilla-scented shampoo, John's aftershave, lemon sorbet and the musky John smell). Nor did he mind the caresses that danced across his hand. He most certainly did not mind the feel of John's hair tickling his lips or the feel of John's skin when he grazed John's ear and cheek with his lips. All in all Sherlock was vastly pleased.

A/N I had a spot of bother writing this chapter. I wrote it four times at least. Finally, Sherlock and John took over and so Chapter 4 is finished. I suspect the boys are tired of dancing around each other and would like to just get on with the game. I still have to take the blame for all mistakes. Thanks for reading and please consider sending me your thoughts reviews. Oh and Happy Holidays.