"Sh-Sherlock?" John mumbled, "What are we doing?"

Sherlock didn't answer and instead pulled John by the hand out onto the dance floor where they had been minutes before. John stumbled slightly as Sherlock halted and spun him around to face him. John bumped into Sherlock and muttered an apology. Sherlock ignored John's mutterings and gripped his waist. John's sluggish mind suddenly snapped into place.

"Sherlock, no!" John exclaimed, "We don't…we can't…"

Sherlock smirked at him and gripped his hand, extending their clasped hands outward.

"What's the matter John?" Sherlock asked, cocking his head to the left, "Don't you want to dance with me?"

John blushed profusely.

"Sherlock, I'm drunk!" he whispered fiercely, "And we have no routine!"

"True," Sherlock admitted, "When a squeeze your hand, we go that way. When I squeeze your waist, we go that way. Have you followed before?"

John's face was a permanent shade of red.

"Yes," he confessed in a tiny voice, "A friend of mine was learning and he needed a partner."

"Excellent!" Sherlock exclaimed, "Now, which method did you learn?"

"Well, Lindy Hop mostly," John shrugged, "But we learned a bit of Balboa."

"Lindy Hop isn't necessarily learned," Sherlock snorted, "It's mostly improvisation and-."

Sherlock stopped and cleared his throat.

"Wonderful," he amended, "Now, just follow my lead. Lean with me unless I squeeze your hand. I'll release you for spins and lifts. You already know that though, of course."

"Luh-lifts?" John sputtered, "Sh-Sherlock, I don't thi-."

John was interrupted by that (stupid) announcer again. John silently cursed the energetic man that bounced on the stage.

"Alright folks!" he called out, clapping his hands together, "Let's get swinging!"

John rolled his eyes at the pun as the music started. His palms began to sweat as Sherlock stepped slightly closer. Sherlock grinned wickedly at him and the only thought that John could clearly think was: oh shit! He started to look down to his feet as they began to move of their own accord, but remembered that eye contact was key to swing dancing. It was the only way to communicate with your partner.

It started simple: their feet kicking and their bodies rocking. Pretty soon John was remembering how exhilarating swing dancing was. It provided the adrenaline he loved so much, without the bullets and bad guys. He didn't know what it was about the dance, but it made him wake up like a butterfly ripping from its cocoon prison. He grinned up at Sherlock.

That's about the time when things got serious.

Suddenly, Sherlock winked his left eye and sent John out to his left. John went with the flow and before he knew it, he was kicking his feet, hand in hand with Sherlock, grinning like a mad man. Sherlock flashed dangerous eyes at him and tugged his hand. John spun swiftly back into Sherlock's arms. Sherlock stopped him before he hit his chest squeezed John's hand tightly. John didn't know what he was doing until it was done.

Sherlock lifted him up into the air and over his lithe form. John went with the motion, practically cartwheeling over Sherlock and sliding between the tall man's thin legs. His breath was gone after that, as Sherlock lifted him smoothly up to his feet and they faced each other. They never once stopped moving. They kicked side to side as their hands flared out beside them. John grinned, unable to contain the bubble of happiness inside him.

Sherlock's eyes widened the slightest bit and John winked back. John spun around, stopping beside Sherlock and grabbed his hand, their feet keeping up with the music. Sherlock leaned forward and spun so they were back to back. Sherlock leaned even further and John pressed against him. One leg went up and then the other and he was in the air. Before he could blink he was back on his feet.

He could sense Sherlock behind him, moving in step with him. Sherlock grabbed his hand and spun him twice before halting him right in front of him and lifting him in the air. John would've squealed, if he wasn't so manly. As Sherlock brought him back down, he directed his legs to the space at Sherlock's right. Sherlock lifted him again and as he brought him down he directed his legs to the left. The third time his legs split and the music stopped.

Sherlock stared down at him, panting heavily. John's left leg was bent at the knee and pressed to Sherlock's right side. The other leg was lifted in the air and pressed against Sherlock's left side. John was gripping Sherlock's shoulders tightly as the other man gripped his sides. Sherlock leaned down slightly, but was interrupted by an eruption of applause. John and Sherlock looked around in bewilderment: they'd forgotten there was anyone else in the world.

"I think we have our winners ladies and gentlemen!" a familiar voice sounded over the speakers.

John blinked hard, trying to clear his mind. He tipped his head back and looked at the announcer upside down. Sherlock straightened out, bringing John with him. John hesitantly put his feet back on solid ground and looked around at everyone. Most were giving him thumbs up, but some were looking rather angry. He turned back to Sherlock, who was watching him closely.

"I don't understand," John said softly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at him.

"You won, John," Sherlock explained, "The competition we were dancing for. You won."

John looked around, dazedly. He clutched to Sherlock tighter as realization dawned on him.

"We won, idiot," he muttered.

Sherlock smiled warmly at him.

"We won," he repeated back.

John leaned forward and kissed that beautifully warm smile. That was going to be his smile, he decided. No one else would ever be allowed to have it. It was all his forever. There were some whistles and cheers as Sherlock pressed back against him. Something soft and furry wrapped around John's waist. He vaguely acknowledged that it was Sherlock's tail as he pulled off of Sherlock's mouth and laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Holy shit!" someone shouted, "Is that a tail?!"

John winced visibly as Sherlock's tail whipped back into its hiding place.

"Don't be absurd!" Sherlock snapped at whoever had called out.

John chuckled into Sherlock's shoulder.

"You always use that word," John commented in a whisper.

"It's my word," Sherlock answered in an equal whisper.

There was a pause and someone cleared their throat loudly.

"Well, come up here and claim your prize!" the announcer called out.

Sherlock led John to the stage and the rest was pretty much a blur. John remembered chuckling a lot and pressing his face into Sherlock a lot. He was pressed against Sherlock's side the rest of the night. This time it seemed that he was the cat.


Little note: Describing swing dancing is really fucking hard! X.x Hope it worked out...love you all!