Chapter 2: November
Christmas was six weeks away and John still hasn't figured out where Sherlock disappears to. But he is disappearing more often. On one particularly boring evening, John decided to call Sherlock. The deep voiced boy picks up immediately, "No Mycroft, I will not tell you-"
"Sherlock?"
"Oh, hello John."
"Whose Mycroft?"
"My pesky older brother."
"The one who buys long books about the British Government?"
"Yes him. You wouldn't want to meet my brother, trust me."
"Why?"
"So many reasons."
"Do you want to hang out?
"I was just heading home."
"Well it's a Friday night and if I spend one more home alone my mum will start to worry."
"I'm not really dressed for anything."
"No worry. We'll find something to do. Let's meet up."
"Oh alright. I'll meet you we part after school."
"Be right there."
Five minutes later John was running up the street to Sherlock. "Hey!"
"What is the plan?"
"What?"
"You interrupt me on my way home and you don't even have a plan on what we are going to do."
"How about rollerblading?"
"I've never been."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Well then. We are going rollerblading."
John helps Sherlock step on to the rink, but quickly learns that Sherlock doesn't need help. "I thought you couldn't skate!"
"I said I haven't skated before."
"Well now you're prancing around like a bloody ballerina!" John speeds up to catch up with Sherlock who is moving much faster than him. John noticed Sherlock laughing. 'What?"
"Nothing."
"No way!" exclaims John.
"What?" asks Sherlock slowing down so John can catch up to him.
"You're a dancer?" He asks not in an accusatory manner but out of curiosity.
"No." says Sherlock stoping.
"You're lying. Clearly lying. Anyway I saw tights under your pants when you were putting the skates on. It's cool."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Is that where you disappear off to at every waking hour?"
"Uh yes."
"I want to watch."
"What?"
"I'm going to come watch."
"No you're not."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why? It took me over a month to figure out where you run off to all the time." said John. "I am going to watch you."
"Oh alright, come by Monday at 8."
"I'll be there Mr. Prima Ballerina."
"Please stop."
"I just hope your good."
John bugs Sherlock in all the classes they shared. Sherlock is actually glad the two have separate lunches on every day but Friday. At six-thirty john leaves his house to start the ten minute walk to the address Sherlock texted. He enters the front door confused but follows the sound of voices. They lead him down a pink hallway lined with doors, windows, bags, benches and empty water bottles. Suddenly the path erupts into a large room filled with bags, benches, and empty water bottles. This room also has people, mostly girls, and they sit in a circle pouring over food. Their schools books are open and left aside as they were an afterthought. "You're early." says a familiar voice. Sherlock sits on a bench slipping on well-worn black slippers.
"Uh -yeah."
"Sherlock?" says a female voice from the circle. "Whose this?" Her voice is not accusatory, but as if this was a chance to get a piece of gossip.
"A friend," says Sherlock, "who is early."
"My name is John."
"Well then John, you need to join us." The girls scoot apart forming a spot for John.
John glances to Sherlock who shrugs, "You better join them or else they'll tackle you and they are strong." John sits in the circle, jumping over textbooks and shoes to reach his spot. Sherlock has the right idea, thinks his friend, getting is hang out with beautiful girls all the time is a great idea.
"You're the first friend of Sherlock that we've met." Speaks one girl excitedly.
"Are you going to stay a watch us dance?" questions another girl.
"I plan too."
"Well, we're going to be in that studio." a girl points to a door that opens and sends a bunch of little kids in tutus running out into the room. One of the little girls runs up and taps John on the shoulder.
"Who are you?" She asks innocently.
"John Watson. I'm a friend of Sherlock's."
"Sherlock has a friend? Are you his boyfriend?" That takes John back and he glances around at the other girls, who are now grabing water bottles and getting ready to head to class.
"Um no. We're just friends."
"Just asking. I have to go now."
"Bye." The younger kids are leaving and most of the older girls are already in the class room. Sherlock walks up to John.
"You can peek through that window and don't try to ruin anything."
"I don't plan to. Now go impress me." Sherlock enters the room and closes the door. John kneels on the bench in front of the window. Much of the window is covered by a white blind, but there is a vertical crack that if John moves close enough he can see most of the room. There are footsteps behind him and a female voice speaks, "Oh, I don't think I've seen you before?"
"I'm John Watson," he turns to face the woman, who is a adult with her hair pulled into a high bun.
"Are you dating one of the girls?" She asks.
"Oh no. I'm a friend of Sherlock."
"Really? Well it's nice to meet you. I'm Mrs. Elizabeth."
"Nice to meet you."
"Well I must get in. Feel free to watch. An audience might help them out." Mrs. Elizabeth enters the studio and even pulls up the shade a little bit for John. He swears they he sees Sherlock run red. Mrs. Elizabeth says something John can't quite make out, but she stars music and the class lines up. They start to dance. John watches Sherlock who is in the front right corner, expertly spinning a girl. He's good. He's really good. John is force to look away as a small group of boys dressed in black pants and white shirts enter the room and fill in the spots next to the girls. The group is now evened out between boys and girls. The boys do the same motions of Sherlock. This number looks so perfect, so well rehearsed. John sits there watching them dance. The large group does differant John every number looks flawless but Mrs. Elizabeth stops the dances quite often to fix some mistake. Sherlock notices the awe in John's face. It baffles him. Dancing is nothing but moving the body but John is watching the group as if they were a painting Van Gogh. Even when they land a turn with their feet parallel, John is shocked. The hour goes by fast and soon the class pours out into the waiting room, but Sherlock and one of the girls stays behind. The rest of the class packs up. One of the girls looks in the window next to John before calling out, "Hey! They are just about to start it!"
"Start what?" asks John.
"Their duet. The Nutcracker and Clara. They are both so good it's ridiculous." Sherlock and the girl, Clara -apparently, stand on opposite sides of the room. Music starts up and the girls swarm around the window.
"I love watching them." Speaks one girl happily. John quickly realizes what the people are talking about. There is such symmetry between the two. They leap and turn together. Sherlock supports the girl. John is taken back when he lifts the girl above his head. His hands are on her hips and her body is shaped like a curve. They wobble slightly and Sherlock hastily puts the girl down. The people at the window start to disperse. John watches as his friend starts to get told his errors. Sherlock doesn't even glance into the mirror at John once. They try the lift again and it goes the same as the first time. The third time, though, it works. Sherlock's eyes land on John in the window. He puts the girl down gracefully.
Twenty minutes later Sherlock comes out of the room and starts to pack up and slip his regular clothes over his dance ones. "I suppose you have questions." He says tying his shoes on.
"No not really. Just wow."
"Really?" John and Sherlock head to the door.
"Just how long have you been doing this?"
"A few years."
"And no one knows? Do your family know?"
"Nope. And don't you go telling anyone."
"I promise. But you are wicked good. You should tell your family."
"They wouldn't like it. This isn't exactly what every parent dreams off for their boy. Oh and Mycroft would never let me hear the end of it."
"They might like it after they see you dance. When can I come again?"
"Any day but Friday."
"Why not friday?"
"Because."
"Fine."
When does John Watson grace the halls of Mrs. Elizabeth's School of Dance again? 4:30 on Friday. And he is glad that he does. The class was in a different studio. There is more people in the class then John saw earlier in the week. John peeks through the crack in the blinds. People in the class are sprawled out on the floor with their legs spread out to the side and their stomachs pressed firmly against the ground. John hears someone sigh from the musicless room. He meets Sherlock's glaring eyes in the mirror. Maybe this isn't John Watson's finest hour. The stretch class finishes. Sherlock is still glaring at John as he walks to a corner of the room that is filled with water bottles and black shoes. The girls, same ones from earlier in the week exit the room. Many of them greet John, warmly as the file into another room. The studio room fills with footsteps. All the dancers are guys. Only a couple look as old as Sherlock. They are all wearing tap shoes. This really shocks John. Sherlock is built like a ballet dancer, he does not look like a tap dancer. Sherlock isn't as good with this as he is at ballet. Maybe this is why Sherlock didn't want him to come thinks John. Tap is actually kind of cool, though. It's different and exciting. So he actually enjoys himself as he watchs the class. The faces of the dancers slowly grow redder and when the teacher, a woman in her late twenties, lets the class free, they all sip down water and talk as they leave the room. Sherlock comes out the room last. He immediately turns to John, "Someone doesn't know the meaning of 'any day but.'"
"I'm curious."
"Uh-huh. I now have an hour off, so I was just going to sit here and practice."
"Is that what you do in your free time?"
"Yep." Sherlock sits on the floor in front of a bench in the waiting room. He pulls out a long wooden thing from his bag.
"What's that?"
"A foot stretcher." Sherlock takes his tap shoe off and slips his bare foot on top of the wooden plank and under an elastic band. His foot forms a large arch.
"That is weird. How does your foot even bend like that?"
"The tendons get stretched out and then this happens."
"Okay. Like how flexible are you?"
"Very. Any other questions?"
"Yeah what class do you have next?"
"Jazz."
"Are you going to let me see your jazz hands?"
"No. No one actually uses jazz hands." John chuckled and started to spend much of his free time watching Sherlock dance.