The Things I Do For You, Sherlock Holmes!
Chapter Five – Let's Pop A Bottle
"Sherlock!" John laughed as he was spun and brought back in so fast he almost landed heavily on the detective's chest. "You're doing that on purpose!"
"Whatever do you mean, my dear doctor?" Sherlock smirked, leading the shorter man along at an upbeat pace. John rolled his eyes, grinning. He had had no idea that Sherlock was such an amazing dancer! The ex-soldier tried to ignore how Sherlock got his heart rate up and butterflies dancing inside him this easily as they moved across the floor.
A great deal of the other restaurant-goers had their eyes on the energetic couple (some recognising them, of course), but as John had guessed, most of the women were practically salivating over his brunette friend. Sherlock looked like some kind of Victorian gentleman, and John found himself quite proud to be in his arms. As he looked up into sparkling blue-grey eyes, the doctor told himself that this was how he wanted to be spending /every/ New Year's Day.
"Thank you for the dance," Sherlock grinned, nodding politely at John as they left the floor a few minutes later to resume their seats. The waiter had just arrived with their food and wine, and John thanked him before turning back to the detective, "This, so far, has to be one of the best New Year's I've ever had," he admitted, still a little breathless from the dance. He smiled at Sherlock over the rim of his glass, watching in relief as the brunette looked like he actually was going to eat what he had ordered. John wasn't entirely sure he had been giving his 'transport' much consideration at all, without him there to ensure it these last few days.
Dinner passed pleasantly, and it was almost nine before the pair was heading home (after a couple more dances, of course). The night was cool and starry, and Sherlock was whistling quietly. After a few moments, John recognised the tune, and looked up at Sherlock with an amused grin. "That's Swan Lake."
"Very perceptive of you, John." The doctor's heart skipped a beat as Sherlock's analytical gaze met his, seeming to burn right through him, but there was something uncharacteristically soft about it, and the smile that graced his perfect lips was more tender than amused.
Turning the corner, John fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door to 221b. He let Sherlock in ahead of him, admiring the taller man's slim figure. A light blush tinted his cheeks as he closed the door behind him, shedding his own shoes before jogging up the stairs to their flat. "Sherlock?" he asked, looking up to see the other already at the window, looking out upon their lit-up city, "What do you say we pop a bottle of champagne and watch Lestrade's annual Yard Spirit speech?"
Laughing, Sherlock shrugged, "Whatever interests you, John." He placed his suit jacket over the back of a chair, retrieving his phone from his back pocket to check his messages. Grinning fondly, the other hurried off to the kitchen. The butterflies still hadn't died down as yet. Something about tonight was just wonderful, almost magical. He had spent a couple of New Year's days with his girlfriends –before he had met Sherlock – and he had never felt quite like this before. He was glad that it was just the two of them, and no distractions. It was more relaxed and comfortable, and it felt…intimate, in a way John couldn't quite explain.
When the doctor walked back into the lounge, Sherlock was sat on the couch, flipping through channels to find the right one. John handed the brunette a glass of champagne before he made to walk on to his usual chair, but was stopped by a hand around his wrist. He looked down at Sherlock expectantly. "Sit here," the taller man simply said, nodding at the empty space on the two-seater next to him. Biting his lip and trying to suppress a bashful grin, he nodded and did as instructed. Pull yourself together, John, he told himself, it's just New Year's…
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P.S. More cheeky Lestrade to come! ;)