XXIII

"Stupid… Confounded… cast and sling!" Sherlock hissed as he let the door to 221B slam behind him, scratching and tugging at the purple sling containing his injured wrist. "And damn John… 'You need to rest it, Sherlock! You shouldn't be on a case so soon!' Bah!" The irate detective had gone to investigate a strange triple murder involving a seemingly carnivourious rabbit. Unfortunately, his loyal doctor-turned-blogger sent him straight back home, citing that Sherlock needed to rest his broken wrist where it had just been reset a few days ago. So he stomped back up the steps, grateful that Loki was out shopping with Mary so he could cool down.

Naturally, the detective was quite surprised to discover said Silvertongue waltzing about the living room with an invisible partner. The music was provided by the ballroom sequence from Cinderella charmed to play on repeat. How Sherlock managed to not hear it, he credited to his ire at being kicked off an interesting case. He quietly stripped off his coat, leaning against the doorframe to watch Loki. Luckily for him, she had her eyes closed.

The girls' shopping trip apparently had been successful, as Loki was sporting a beautiful light blue dress that poofed out and flared and twisted around her thighs as she danced. Subtle princess motifs were embroidered in glittering thread, giving her just a hint of sparkle. All Loki was missing was a tiara. And a dance partner.

"May I cut in?" Sherlock asked as he did just that, wrapping his uninjured arm around the goddess' waist. Loki let out a surprised little squeak, jumping away from him. Try as he might (which was not very hard), he could not help but chuckle.

"Sherlock! You weren't supposed to be back yet!"

"I could say the same for you, Princess. I thought you spending the day shopping with Mary." Loki began to quickly switch off the TV and hide her other reference materials for dancing, blushing profusely.

"I was. I did."

"Then why are you back so soon? It's barely after lunch."

"Why are you back so soon? I thought you had a case."

"John kicked me off because of my wrist." Sherlock quirked an eyebrow up as Loki continued to his any evidence of her dancing, even going so far as to trying to hide the dress she was wearing. Now the detective was often clueless about such things as others' beauty and self-confidence, but he was fairly certain she didn't need to be shy. "Something wrong, love?"

"No, no, not at all."

"For the goddess, of lies, that was not very convincing." Sherlock quickly shoved his coat away from Loki's reach, preventing her from covering up her beautiful dress. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing! I just…" She muttered an incoherent answer, looking down at the ground. By now her neck and face had turned cherry red with seemingly unprovoked embarrassment.

"What was that, love?"

"I…" She sighed before finally answering, "I was trying to learn how to dance…" It took a minute for her words to fully process, it seemed so unlikely.

"You? A prince-er-princess of Asgard…? You never learned how to dance?"

"I learned traditional Asgardian dances, of course. But…"

"You don't know any of Earth's." She nodded, her fingers finding and fiddling with her skirt.

"Mary said that… its traditional for the couple to share a first dance at a wedding…" Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. Over the past the few weeks, Loki had become increasingly obsessed with Midgardian wedding traditions. Something the detective found no small amount of irony in, considering how Loki acted on his first trip to Earth. "Stop laughing at me!"

"I'm not! Loki, our marriage is already going to be far from traditional. Why are you so concerned with being traditional?" The goddess didn't answer, keeping her eyes to the ground. But she didn't need to either. The way her shoulders dropped an extra inch, the downward droop of the corners of her mouth… her body language told him everything he needed to know. Having been banished from her home world, she felt she had no real right to Asgard's wedding traditions. So she clung to ones she typically scoffed at.

"Come here you," Sherlock ordered as he set his phone into the stereo, choosing a soft waltz he had composed. Loki shot him a confused look. "Come here." He extended his arm out to her. "I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to dance, of course." She reluctantly began to approach him, and once she was within reach, he swooped her into his uninjured arm. The carefully lifted her and set her feet on his, causing her brows to knit together. "Absolute best way to learn the steps. Put your hand on my shoulder."

Once properly positioned, Sherlock began to sway with the music, effortlessly carrying his beautiful load through the steps. Loki kept a tight grip on his shoulders, staring at her feet and looking so much more nervous than he had ever seen her. Typically, Loki was the embodiment of cool confidence. Though to be fair, it often felt more like an air of arrogance rather than just self-confidence. Thus people were often put off by it. Sherlock certainly didn't know anything about that.

But Sherlock was slowly learning that Loki's arrogant confidence was actually one of her more elaborate illusions. He knew the goddess was rather self-conscious about somethings, especially pertaining to her appearance and image. This was best evidenced by how her face was about half a shade darker than usual (She had yet to find an equally pale shade of makeup to her skin but luckily only Sherlock seemed to perceive a difference), effectively hiding the stitch scars circling her lips. However, in the weeks following the announcement of their engagement, Loki seemed to grow more and more concerned with making sure that their wedding would be what the general populace would deem acceptable and how it would affect the perceptions of the couple.

"Loki, this would be better if you actually looked at me," he chuckled as the music changed to a sprightlier waltz. Loki did lift her head to meet his gaze, but her emerald eyes were wide with nerves. "No need to be so nervous. You're doing wonderfully."

"This seems… simpler… than the film I was watching…"

"Well, we're not going to do some ridiculous polka or anything. Also, my arm being out of commission does make things difficult." That elicited a giggle from the goddess, making Sherlock grin. "Once my wrist heals then I can lift and twirl you to our hearts' content."

"I eagerly await, my handsome prince."

"Oh, I'm a prince now?"

"I may be an exile, but I am technically still a prince of Asgard. Therefore, you become a prince by marrying me." Sherlock crinkled his nose at that.

"I highly doubt I'm anyone's idea of a prince."

"Knight in shining armor then?"

"Hmm… acceptable." This elicited another fit of giggles from Loki, effecting erasing all nerves from her beautiful features. Sherlock peeked down at their feet while she was distracted, a grin crawling onto his face. "By the way, princess, you seem to be quite the fast learner."

Loki looked down, and sure enough, her feet were no longer being guided by Sherlock's. She wasn't quite sure when that had happened but to be frank she really didn't care all that much. Not when she had gotten exactly what she wanted. The Goddess of Mischief could have easily learned everything she needed to know about Midgardian dances on her own. But there was something deliciously intimate in having your lover teach you how to dance.

Loki snuggled closer into Sherlock's embrace, being careful of his injured wrist. Moments like this made her consider abandoning her plans. She knew it would be better for them all in the long run but the risk… Her choices were either Sherlock be killed or save him and lose him forever. To be frank, neither option was truly enticing.

"So have you decided yet?" Loki wasn't quite sure what Sherlock was asking about, she had been so deep in her thoughts. "About whether or not you're buying a dress?"

"You do realize I don't typically plan whether or not I am male of female ahead of time."

"Of course. However, wedding dresses tend to be quite expensive and our finances are grand enough to waste money on a dress you decide not to wear last minute." The goddess of mischief smirked as Sherlock twirled her, their dance becoming surprisingly more elaborate.

"I could always wear it in my male form." He chuckled and shook his head. He really should have seen that coming.

"Well, yes. I suppose that is an option. But you would still need to pin things down so you can have the dress properly sized."

"Sherlove, I have magic. I can alter the dress myself as needed." Loki's smirk turned distinctly mischievous as a text message dinged through the speaker. Of course, if you desire a beautiful blushing bride on our wedding day, all you have to do is ask."

"You know I don't care either way. Your gender tends to be rather irrelevant," was his answer as he reached over to check his phone. "Though I think Mother is hoping to use you as the daughter she never had."

"While I appreciate her offer, her dress is simply not my style."

"Good. It's much too old fashioned for you."

"You think it's ugly," Loki accused as she began to shift forms, "magicking" (as Sherlock called it) her gown into their closet.

"Not necessarily. Why did you shift?" Sherlock tucked his phone back into his pocket and began to pull his coat on with some difficulty. Loki, now in his male form, took over, helping his currently helpless mortal into his coat and scarf.

"I read your text."

"Nosy."

"Hush you. I'm going with you."

"You could have gone in your dress."

"It's raining, genius."

"You could've just changed clothes then, genius." Loki shrugged.

"I don't want to frighten this new person. Also, I do what I want."

"Point begrudgedly taken."

"Now. Let's go meet this cousin of yours."