"John, I don't see why I have to dress up just to go to one of Mycroft's boring parties," Sherlock complained, fastening the cuffs on his suit. John only smiled, undoing Sherlock's sloppy tie and doing it up properly. Sherlock nodded his thanks, smoothing the front of the tie down and taking in his reflection. It'd do, and John seemed pleased enough with it.
His partner, of course, looked stunning. The suit made him look taller, somehow, and even more attractive than usual. It cut well on him, making him seem even cleaner-cut and sharp. Sherlock briefly considered just staying in for the evening and finding a few more inventive uses for ties, but one reproving glance from John told him that his presence at his brother's party was mandatory. John pulled him out to the curb and hailed a cab, giving the cabbie the address Mycroft had sent on the invitation.
Sherlock curled against John in the cab, not caring if he wrinkled his suit. John drew him closer. "I know you hate these, Sherlock, but it's really important to Mycroft that we come," John whispered. Sherlock made a noncommittal sound low in his throat. "I mean it. Just like it's important to you that Harry come 'round now and then." Sherlock nodded at this; it was important that John know his family was welcome to Sherlock, and he supposed, if he thought about it, Mycroft might be trying to do the same thing.
John kissed his forehead gently. "C'mon, we're here," he said, stepping out and then holding the door for Sherlock. Ever the gentleman, he took Sherlock's arm and led him into the party. Immediately people paused to glance at the new arrivals, then just as quickly looked away. Upon realizing who it was, they looked again; causing an amusing double take that had Sherlock smirking.
"Try not to look so smug," John muttered, leading Sherlock down towards where Mycroft stood, Lestrade at his side. Sherlock even gave his brother a smile and cordial greeting while John firmly shook his hand and gave Greg a smile.
"Lovely party, Mycroft," Sherlock commented sincerely. It did look rather nice, the lights were low but not too dim, and everything seemed to sort of shimmer. A string quartet played in one area of the room, providing a dance floor of sorts for those who wished to dance. To another wall was a table laden with various puddings and a punchbowl.
John and Greg chatted while Mycroft went off to schmooze and Sherlock's gaze wandered the room. Every so often a young lady would look over at John with interest. Each time it happened Sherlock would step a bit closer to John, silently claiming his doctor, until he was looming over John's shoulder.
Greg laughed a bit. "Seems Sherlock's a bit anxious tonight, John," he commented. John turned to see Sherlock and laughed lightly at his proximity, leaning up to kiss his cheek fondly.
"Yes, I'd better take care of him. Besides, you should be with Mycroft, off wooing the masses," John said, shooing Greg away easily. Sherlock frowned as yet another woman tried to meet John's gaze across the room.
John must have seen Sherlock's glare, because he reached out a hand. "You did promise to try and enjoy yourself," he reminded Sherlock gently. "Dance with me?"
How could Sherlock say no? A moment later he folded his John into his arms and moved him smoothly over to the dance floor. Without any thought he moved them through the basics of a waltz, leaning his head down so he could breath in John's unique scent, something of a cross between tea and gunpowder, at once comforting and dangerous.
"I think Mycroft is really happy you're here," John whispered as they danced. Sherlock shrugged as he spun them around.
"I believe he's more pleased that you're able to get me here," Sherlock amended, and he was right. Mycroft was happy that someone could keep an eye on Sherlock, get him to do what needed to be done. And truthfully, Sherlock was happy he'd found someone that made him want to do what needed to be done.
He leaned down again, kissing the tender skin just behind John's earlobe and provoking the most delightful shiver before he spoke. "Thank you, John," he whispered.
John smiled again and allowed Sherlock to spin him into another dance.