Sherlock entered the flat that night after collecting his daughter from work. He had been wandering the streets of London and doing his best to crack the case which John had called 'The Blind Banker'. Sherlock had left Elizabeth at Angelo's and had decided that he couldn't wait for her all night. He had wanted to. He would have sat in the restaurant and waited patiently whilst collecting his thoughts.

But she had told him to leave her alone and go solve a case. He would have disagreed, but Angelo had promised to keep his eye on her. She had been under strict instructions not to leave the restaurant until Sherlock reappeared and he managed to get to her ten minutes before the end of her shift.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" John called out as soon as he saw the young woman. He clicked his fingers and closed the lid to his laptop. "I recorded the programme which you asked me to record for you."

"Ah, you're amazing, John!" she called back, collapsing onto the sofa and slipping her flat ballet pumps from her feet, watching them drop the ground as Sherlock stood in the doorway, his hands unbuttoning his coat as he cocked his brow on his forehead.

"So did you discover much about the case?"

"What did you ask John to record for you?" Sherlock asked, ignoring his daughter's question as he took his own seat at his desk, resting his coat over the back of his chair.

"Strictly Come Dancing," John informed his flatmate. "Apparently Elizabeth has a thing for watching celebrities trying to dance."

"Why did you not ask me?" Sherlock's brows furrowed and he checked his emails once again.

"Dad, you're great with technology, but do you have any idea how a television actually works?" Elizabeth wondered from her father.

Sherlock pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose before shutting the lid to his laptop once more, content with the fact he had checked his emails. He would let John respond to them in the morning. He didn't have time for such a mediocre task.

"It has never really been something which interested me," Sherlock admitted and he stood up. "Tea anyone?"

"I'll-"

"-Besides, I would have found out how to record it. YouTube is quite an aid," Sherlock interrupted John's request for tea.

"You can record it next week when I'm at work then," Elizabeth shrugged nonchalantly and pulled her tube skirt down her thighs, doing her best to make it longer than it was. She still wore her leather jacket around her shoulders, the chill of the autumn air seemingly getting to her and making her cold even in the flat.

"I'll do that," Sherlock called from the kitchen.

"Awesome," Elizabeth mumbled.

Sherlock wandered back in with a mug of tea in his hands, slumping into his armchair as he looked at the remote to the TV which was on the coffee table in front of him, crowded with newspapers and Elizabeth's magazines.

"That was quick tea making," Elizabeth said.

"The kettle was already warm. It had just boiled I think," Sherlock said and John rolled his eyes, closing his own laptop lid.

"I was about to say that I had just put the kettle on to boil and that you could make-"

"-That's very thoughtful of you, John," Sherlock interrupted once more. "Preparing tea in time for when I come back. You could have poured it instead of doing half a job."

Elizabeth smirked when she saw John's exasperated look which held his features. She couldn't help but snort as the doctor stood up and held his laptop under his arm.

"I'm going to bed. I've had enough excitement for one day," he shook his head and moved out of the living room.

"Night, John," Elizabeth decided to say.

"Goodnight."

Sherlock and his daughter lapsed into silence for a few moments as Sherlock sipped on his tea. Lizzie suddenly sat up and moved from the sofa, walking over to the coffee table. Sherlock was quicker and he snatched the remote from the table before she could reach it.

"What are you doing?"

"Proving to you that I am more than capable of working a television set," Sherlock drawled and he switched it on. "Now what was it that you recorded? Ah, yes, a mediocre programme about people who are dancing but probably cannot dance. I doubt they can dance as well as I can anyway."

"You dance?" Elizabeth wondered; a look of confusion on her face as she listened to him.

He looked at her condescendingly. "Yes. Why do you look so shocked?"

"No reason," she shook her head, sinking down to sit on the arm of her father's armchair as he wrestled with the TV remote. "So did you and Uncle Mycroft have ballet lessons together or something?"

Sherlock heard her snicker and kept his eyes focused on the box in the corner. "Now, now, Lizzie," he warned her and she snorted again. "And snorting is most unladylike."

"Ballet isn't very manly either," she retorted before she noted what her father had done. "You've deleted it!"

"No, I haven't," he denied, knowing full well he had but he kept pressing buttons to try and solve the solution. All he seemed to do was flip channels, voices blurring quickly as he did so. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and snatched the remote from him, turning the set off and folding her arms over her chest.

"You can watch it on your laptop, Lizzie," he informed her. "Everything is available online."

"At least it does prove a point," Elizabeth spoke and Sherlock stood up, buttoning the button to his suit jacket as he ruffled his hair. "You have no idea how to work the television."

"I doubt you're missing out on much," Sherlock waved his hand and moved over to the wall by the sofa, his eyes looking at the case notes which hung there. He intended to visit the museum in the morning. He had wanted to go that night, but he had Elizabeth to walk back from work. It seemed she was topping his list of priorities nowadays. Although that was how it should be.

"That is scarcely the point," Elizabeth reminded him. "So when did you learn how to dance?"

Sherlock watched as she slumped into his seat, falling from the arm and allowing her legs to dangle over it, her back resting against the other arm of the chair. Sherlock shook his head at her before she laughed once.

"What?" she wondered.

"You want me to show you," Sherlock spoke. "I won't give you the satisfaction, Elizabeth."

"Oh, come on," Lizzie said. "Mum used to take me to ballet lessons. I still know a thing or two."

Sherlock groaned before he unexpectedly moved with grace, his arms in front of him before he pirouetted on the spot. Elizabeth gasped at the unexpected motion and his foot stopped him as soon as he had done one clean spin, his arms making a bowing gesture as he did so. Elizabeth clapped and Sherlock found a small smile formed on his lips.

"How did I not know you could do that?" she wondered.

"You don't really pirouette during crime scenes." Sherlock nonchalantly replied and Elizabeth stood up, wondering if she could top his effort in some way.

"It would give Anderson and Donovan something to talk about," she shrugged back to him. "I wonder if I can still go en pointe."

"Oh God," Sherlock worried as soon as Elizabeth stood up straight and moved to stand on her tip toes. She took a deep breath and concentrated. "You do know that you need pointe shoes, Lizzie. They help to distribute the weight."

"Rose didn't in Titanic," she simply replied and Sherlock stood in front of her, watching her with interest before she wobbled and fell forwards.

He reacted out of instinct, his hands moving to hold her shoulders and keep her upright as she laughed loudly and Sherlock chuckled as he kept his hands on her shoulders, watching her as she placed a hand over her mouth to stop her from snorting, a habit she had when she laughed loudly.

"So I think we have proven that I have beaten you in dancing too," Sherlock responded.

"You did one pirouette," she reminded him. "I could do them when I was eight."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose once more and dared to do something he had never done before. "Consider this a challenge then."

Elizabeth wondered what he was talking about before she looked at Sherlock's outstretched hand.

"Are you serious?"

"I am proving a point," Sherlock informed her. "A basic waltz is constant rotation, Elizabeth."

"Fair enough," Elizabeth said, taking hold of her father's hand and resting her other one of his shoulder as he gently took her waist. "Although I never thought I'd get you to dance...even on my wedding day."

"You've thought about your wedding day?" Sherlock checked with her, his face scrunched up.

"Most girls have," she responded.

"You need to date before you get married and the entire notion of it is lost on me."

"Don't tell me that I'll have to have Uncle Mycroft walk me down the aisle," she teased him further as he began to lead, moving them slowly around the room as Elizabeth followed each step he made.

"You won't be walking down the aisle if I have my way, Elizabeth," Sherlock responded to her. "Besides, why would you want a boyfriend? Don't they just stifle you?"

"I wouldn't know," she said sadly.

And that was the honest truth. She'd never had a real boyfriend, and she had never found anyone she would consider to be her boyfriend. She suspected she hadn't just met the right person. She only hoped she wouldn't end up alone.

"Anyway, the subject of relationships is wasted on me," Sherlock replied. "And your dancing is terrible."

"What?" Elizabeth snapped. "I haven't tripped over your feet yet."

It was then when Sherlock stopped moving and watched her foot trip over his. She stumbled as he kept a firm hold of her waist, a smug smirk on his face as Elizabeth frowned. Sherlock chuckled and spun her under his arm a couple of times.

"But we can't all be good at everything," Sherlock assured her as he resumed to holding her in the classic waltz position and she shrugged.

"I don't think I'm good at anything...not even waitressing," she mumbled and Sherlock shook his head.

"You'll find something," he promised her. "You still have plenty of time depending on the fact you don't die in the next few years."

"Lovely," Elizabeth commented.

"I do try to be."

"I should maybe go to bed. I'm doing the lunch shift tomorrow," Lizzie informed her dad and he released her waist, twirling her under his arm once more as he watched her tuck her hair from her face and move it behind her shoulders.

"And tonight went well, did it?" Sherlock wondered.

"You already know I spilt wine over a customer," she informed him and he shrugged as she kissed him on the cheek.

"I didn't want to annoy you."

"Makes a change," Lizzie muttered, moving down the corridor. She stood in the doorway before turning around and patting the frame to the door. "But Molly and Jim came in for a meal."

"And?"

"And what?" Lizzie wondered.

"Is he gay?" Sherlock asked from her as he sipped his now cold cup of tea and looked at her from the living room.

"I didn't ask," Lizzie said.

"Next time; do," Sherlock urged her. "Molly already looks a fool with him. It would be worse if he turned out to be gay."

Elizabeth smiled yet rolled her eyes as she turned in for the night, wondering if YouTube had the answer to her dancing dilemma.

...

A/N: So thank you to aandm20 and FishFingeresAndCustard11 for reviewing. I hope you'll let me know what you think as this was just a bit of a filler chapter!