A/N: Thank you all for such a great response! A lot of comments in answer to my Author's Note too - I'm glad you share my views of the sheer amount of subtext in this film!

In advance, yes I did think of one for the waltz scene (who didn't), but this has already been done just lovely in a fanfiction called 'A Waltz' by DaughterOfStarlight. It's in my favourites, actually. So I'm content to leave that one unless you want to charm me by requesting for me to do my own take on it.

So here is plotbunny two, because when we were presented with the horse problem and John said 'Lets see, how can we make this more...manageable." this was what I thought of before we were given the glory that was Sherlock-on-a-little-pony.

Plotbunny Two: Horse Scene

"Just get on the horse, Holmes."

"But –"

"Holmes, hurry up, it's just a horse."

Sherlock glared at him.

"The stirrup is just there. Put your foot in it, and pull yourself up and over."

Sherlock eyed the horse one more time. The horse eyed him back, looking equally nervous.

"I don't like the look of this one. Can we –"

"No."

"But the look in its eyes and the shifting of its feet clearly suggest –"

"It wants to get going, Holmes. As do we all." He sighed impatiently as Sherlock hesitated. "Look, you agreed to this. I'm perfectly happy for you to take your own horse. After all, two men sharing a horse is hardly going to pass as normal. In fact, I retract my offer. You can do as you please." He shifted to look back in front, adjusting himself as if to set off.

"Wait!"

John sighed as Sherlock quickly slipped his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up and over the rear end of the horse. That is, in a way that ended up with him draped horizontally over the horse's back, the back of the saddle digging into his stomach. John laughed.

"Well done. You alright there? Good. Let's go." He gave the horse a nudge with his heels to get the horse walking. Sherlock gave a muffled noise of protest, awkwardly using some combination of John's waist and shoulders to haul himself into a proper sitting position behind John. Then he promptly wrapped his arms tightly around John's waist, as if fearing for his life. John wriggled a bit to loosen them as they got going.

The saddle was not designed to seat two people. It was possible, but naturally both ends sloped down gently towards the middle, angling John's body naturally back towards Sherlock and Sherlock's naturally forwards against John. However, it didn't work quite like that as John, being the one controlling the horse, had to sit more centrally in order to put his feet comfortably through the stirrups, forcing Sherlock right to the back of the saddle. Luckily there was just enough room to sit them both comfortably but was still a close embrace from Sherlock's position, and John could feel the detective's body shift against him with each movement of the horse. He could also feel Sherlock breathing, quite literally, down his neck.

"Holmes, could you sit back a bit?"

He felt Sherlock's head move, presumably to survey his current position.

"Probably not," Sherlock reported.

"Well try, would you?"

"I'm perfectly comfortable as I am, thank you Watson."

"But I'm not. You're breathing down my neck."

"There is nowhere else to breathe Old Boy."

"There is, and I expect you to use your supposedly superior intellect to find it."

This drew an indistinguishable sound from Sherlock, who shifted only infinitesimally before resuming his snug slouch against John's back. John took a deep breath to protest, but then let it out with a sigh, changing his mind. At least now that Sherlock was on the horse he wasn't making any further protests or complaints about the 'dangerous' animal. John smiled to himself.

They travelled in quiet for about half an hour. At this point Sherlock's hold on him began to loosen, his arms slipping down until his hands were resting on the front of the saddle, his wrists lightly brushing the insides of John's thighs. John felt rather relieved to be free of the embarrassing hug but felt equally awkward about the new position of Sherlock's hands. Carefully, one at a time, he lifted Sherlock's wrists and lowered them gently down either side of the horse. When this sparked absolutely no comment from Sherlock he frowned. But then he felt the warm weight of Sherlock's head come to rest against the back of his left shoulder and realised the more probable truth. Sherlock had fallen asleep. For a moment John was charmed, having by now gotten used to the warm and oddly comforting presence of the detective there. Hang on – oddly comforting?

It was also about now that John registered the passing glances from the other riders – small smiles and 'knowing' looks. At first he thought they were simply being sympathetic with his plight but then realised what the looks reminded him of. They reminded him of the looks waiters gave him when he asked Mary out to dinner. But that meant they thought Sherlock and him… No! This was meant to be his honeymoon with Mary that Sherlock had ruined, not an alternate honeymoon with Sherlock in Mary's absence! He felt a brief anger followed by a dull embarrassment as he realised he probably hadn't refuted this image by essentially letting Sherlock cuddle him for half an hour.

"Holmes," he hissed, letting go of the reins with one hand to elbow Sherlock lightly in the ribs. This seemed to have no effect. Damn it, why had he let Sherlock get away with this? Even if they had been on a honeymoon there would be no excuse for this – Sherlock should be staying awake to enjoy every moment of this havoc he was creating. And what sort of honeymoon would this make anyway – having to sneak across borders whilst tackling fights and assassins in pursuit of a threatening enemy? And why the hell was he evaluating this as an alternate honeymoon with Sherlock?

He elbowed Sherlock in the ribs again, a lot harder this time. "Holmes!"

Sherlock gave a sleepy moan, only half waking. But John's shove had tilted him off balance and John could feel Sherlock's head sliding across and off his shoulder as Sherlock keeled over to one side. By the time either John or Sherlock could react Sherlock had already shifted too far off balance and landed promptly on the ground. This was more than sufficient to shock him fully awake.

As John pulled the horse to a halt Sherlock was already sitting up and rubbing his back, his eyes wide and taking a surprisingly long time to deduce what had happened. John looked down at him, feeling momentarily guilty. But if he apologised, helped Sherlock back on and let him continue for even longer as close as he had been that would hardly strengthen John's argument for them really not being in a relationship. He looked back into Sherlock's half dazed eyes and felt a brief push-pull sensation in the pit of his stomach. Eventually as Sherlock stood up to brush himself off John turned and called back over his shoulder,

"That's it. Can we get the pony?"

A/N: This is sort of turning into a 'Homoerotic Deleted Scenes: PalindromeIsntOne's Cut', isn't it?