Prompt 40: Morbid
A/N: Teenlock Dance AU written by someone who's never danced a day in their life.
"You can't be serious." Bill's voice echoed from Coach Lestrade's office through the changing room and John winced. The trouble with Bill was that he couldn't seem to help himself when there was mischief to be had, and as with every other time, it ended in the destruction of someone else's property. As captain of their football team John wished he could see a way to make his team member stop being such an idiot, as a friend he was happy to laugh along and let him be. This time though, he'd actually gone too far if the barking Lestrade was doing said anything. No one was quite sure what they'd done, Murray, Tony and Sam, but rumours of trespass and sometimes arson were flying about with the vigour only teenagers could manage. John for one just hoped they weren't being suspended, the season hadn't begun yet and he needed every player on the pitch to train or they'd never make it to the cup finals.
It was his second to last chance to get there and next year he'd make the choice between football and schoolwork and schoolwork would win, he'd have to study properly for his A levels, he needed the marks to get medicine before he could even think about enlisting. The guys didn't know about that decision quite yet and he was hoping to keep that secret for as long as he could. It was the only chance he had of becoming a doctor, no way his parents could afford it and he was not taking out a student loan. Football was great but being a doctor and maybe even being a soldier were the two things he really wanted to do. Still if he was down three of his best players before they'd even played a match he might as well throw the towel in now.
The rest of the team lined the benches against the walls of the changing room, waiting for the verdict of the Coach. In general Lestrade punished in two ways: The whole team or one individual. In truth even if only a couple of the lads were punished it still affected the entire lot, they were all good mates and one being down brought the rest down too. Still, everyone sat up straighter when the noise of eight sets of feet began their journey down the corridor. John quickly looked at the guys faces and knew it was a team punishment, they looked genuinely apologetic, indignation would have been somewhere in their eyes if they'd been suspended. "Right." The Coach began, eyeballing the gathered teens with irritation flashing across his face. "These three idiots thought it would be funny to interrupt the lessons of our friendly neighbours at Lobelia Academy of Dance yesterday. Now the principal Ms. Adler offered a deal of sorts, and it was that she wouldn't press charges for the trespassing if you all, that's every one of you, goes to the school during training time and makes an effort, a proper good fist of dancing. I'm going to leave the decision to your captain, because I personally think a run in with the police might knock some sense into these three, but maybe you don't share the sentiment. So. Watson, what will it be?"
John bit back a groan and turned to face the ten other guys who looked stunned. "I see it like this, either we take a few weeks of dance classes or we let our mates take a fall they might never recover from. I don't see much of a choice there. But" he spun back around "I'm going to want a few things from you in exchange. First you have to promise you won't get in any more trouble until the season is over. Second you can't whine at us that dancing is hard or that you wish you were on the pitch because it's your fault and thirdly I'll be expecting you to apologise to the team. You let us down yesterday guys, we're better than that sort of thing, and you've brought our name down too. That last you can do now." Even Lestrade felt a little bit bad for the messers, getting a talk down from John Watson just made you feel bad, it was like disappointing your old man, you felt shame and guilt for every little thing no matter what. He thought it was the eyes, they were very honest much like John himself and if he felt like you'd let him down you bloody well knew it. Similarly he could bring you right up out of the gutter with an easy smile and his forgiving nature. It was part of what made him a great captain.
They were quick to apologise after that and John clapped an arm around their shoulders. "It's alright, Dancing is supposed to be great for your football anyway. It'll be like training away from training ay boys?" Laughter bubbled among them and Greg shook his head. This dancing lark was going to be interesting for all of them.
The next afternoon John gathered the team together and Lestrade brought them across the back pitches to Lobelia. He'd already given them a speech about making a real effort being just as important as showing up, and all 14 guys had nodded along seriously. It might be a bit embarrassing but they would do anything for each other, especially if it meant keeping their friend's records relatively clean. Still, John couldn't help the frisson of excitement that he felt as the walked through the luxurious corridors to meet the woman waiting at a set of wooden double doors. "Christ mate I might have given dance a go if she was the one putting me through my paces." Danny muttered to the group as they got closer. She was beautiful, acres of pale skin and dark hair, blue eyes and a cracking body, but John personally got the feeling that she was hard to please and the look in her eyes made him feel like she'd tied him up, and that was how she liked it.
"Ms. Adler? Coach Lestrade." He offered his hand for her to shake and she accepted with a slight smile. "And this must be your team. Welcome to Lobelia boys." She surveyed them like they were cattle at market for only milliseconds before turning and opening the doors. "We agreed that each of you would dance but not what style you would be partaking in. Sit." John sat quickly in a semi circle with the lads, helplessly admiring the dance studio she had brought them into. Four walls of mirrors and a sleek wooden floor, the barre running across one wall brought back memories of a life he'd left for footie.
"First thinks first. Have any of you ever taken dance instruction before?" John was actually quite surprised when two other hands went up with his own. It seemed to please her at least a little bit. "Not total beginners, that will help. Name and style?" Tom spoke first with a blush. "Eh... Tom Daly, Ballroom?" She nodded and looked to Henry who was rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Henry Knight, Jazz and swing." A small smile flitted across her face at that and then she rounded on John. "John Watson, Ballet." Triumph shone in her eyes and the team gasped in shock. "You were a ballerina?!" John rolled his eyes. "Yes Andy I was a ballerina. Then I took up football and now I'm your captain so I would stand down if I were you." Andy hastily muttered and apology which John graciously accepted and Ms Adler seemed almost gleeful. "Oh yes you'll do just fine. My grand plan to ensure you make the proper effort is to include each of you in our winter expo regardless of the progress you do or do not make. You'll make an effort or make a fool of yourself. Your choice. Those of you who have a style already go sit by the wall. As for the rest of you I will pick. Names quickly." In a state of utter shock they began to name themselves.
"Andy Dwyer, James Matthews, Paul Simon, Russell Davies, Steve Mofatt, Mark Gatiss, Andrew Scott, Sam Smith, Bill Murray, Tony Garcia and Michael Flatley." Each boy got a once over before she made her decision. "Davies, Moffat and Gatiss you'll be joining Mr Knight over there for Jazz and swing in room 10. Flatley, Scott and Dwyer you three will be Irish dancing, room 25. Smith, Garcia, hip hop, 12. Murray, Matthews and Simon will dance contemporary with me in room 8. Daly ballroom is in room 3. As for Captain Watson I have a few things I have to sort out. The rest of you go, I trust Coach Lestrade will accompany you to ensure you don't get lost?" A quirk of one perfectly shaped eyebrow and they were off out of the room, with the coach who had been leaning against the wall chivvying them along.
"Now. John, as I mentioned before each of you will take part in our winter show, but I'm not so cruel as to leave you floundering up there by yourselves. No, you'll have partners from the Academy alongside you. The students have already chosen various pieces they would like to perform, but my ballet dancer has had some... issues playing with others and couldn't find a partner for a twist on swan lake he wanted to perform. Actually he wanted to take on all three roles himself but that was impossible. I think, John Watson, that you might become the answer to a lot of our problems." John gaped up at her. "M'am I don't know if I have the ability to do this" For some reason the smile she gave him was fond. " That is exactly why you're right for this partnership, Even now I can see what you feel in your face, the self doubt, it's emotion in its purest form, something my dancer has trouble displaying. He would be, will be ètoile to any company in the world, I guarantee, if he could just learn to dance with his heart on his sleeve and do it with a partner. You're going to teach him this John, I know it."
"Ms. Adler I'm still not sure-" "And I am. Look at us both. Know when you are beaten John. Come on, I'll bring you to him." She was already striding away as she finished speaking and John had to hurry after her to keep up. The door she slid open led to a room much like the one they'd come from, but the light was substantially better and it contained a young man in ballet leggings and shirt that took John's breath away. He was tall and lean, but the obvious strength of his body as he stretched at the barre made him the ideal for a dancer and his pale skin and wild dark curls framed the most unexpectedly coloured eyes. "Sherlock Holmes, John Watson. John here is going to be your Prince." Slowly Sherlock turned around and surveyed John. He felt a bit naked under the scrutiny actually. "You can go Irene, he'll be the one running screaming if you need him." Sherlock drawled in a low baritone and Irene Adler quirked her lips into a smile, while John had the rather morbid thought that this Sherlock would probably try and make him scream if the look in his eye was anything to go by.
Still, when Irene closed the door behind herself and left him alone with a total stranger he knew next to nothing about, well he wished he'd had more than a minute to collect himself. "So. When are you planning on telling your friends that you're enlisting?" The first words out of his mouth and John was stunned.
"End of the year. Easier that way. I'm sorry, how did you know that?" Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Top corner of a pamphlet in your bag about army schemes to pay for tuition. Obviously you're not a particularly wealthy man or your parents would have sent you to a private school so they probably can't afford to pay for college and you have ambitions. Add the fact that you're accepting a punishment along with a gang of footnallers you apparently captain based on the jersey number I would think they'd be a bit less friendly towards you if they knew you intended to first stop playing and second go abroad and get shot at." John blinked at the onslaught and for a fraction of a second something crossed Sherlock's face, and John didn't like it. "That... Was amazing. Truly amazing." Sherlock's turn to looked stunned. "That's not what people usually say." John frowned. "What do they usually say?"
"Piss off." He burst into laughter and Sherlock joined him, a fact that seemed to surprise him.
Wiping his eyes John held out his hand to Sherlock. "Nice to meet you Sherlock Holmes. Now tell me about this dance of yours."
It was a good idea certainly, starkening the elements of the dance to just three or four characters: The white swan, the black swan, the prince and potentially Rothbar if he could find someone up to the job.
The scene Sherlock wanted to perform was a mix of the finale and the seduction of the prince by both swans. The climax of the dance. John nodded pensively along with his explanation but each word made him more nervous than the last. He could not do this.
Sherlock gave him a shrewd look. "Just because you learned Cechetti and haven't put on so much as a slipper in two and a half years doesn't mean you can't do this." John sighed fondly and thought that he was probably going to be doing that a lot. "If you say so. Show me what you have choreographed already then, You probably have most of it out already." A smirk on the other's face meant he'd hit the nail. John realised he should have seen it coming when the man sat down and pulled on a pair of pointe shoes, making him even taller than before. "Great" John muttered sarcastically "just what you needed, more height." Sherlock laughed as he strolled over to a connection on the wall and plugged his phone in, pressed a button and the music to Swan Lake began to play, but it was... Different somehow. New.
"It uh... My own recording. Violin is something of a soothing... I can play the original if you want but I thought perhaps a new arrangement would be better for what I had planned..." John held up his hand and listened. It was flawless, but he could feel every line of the music as it was played and knew exactly what each note corresponded to. He could feel the emotion swelling, the passion rising and then everything coming to a head as the White Swan realised her, his, prince had been swept up by someone else and he was destined to be a swan forever, he could almost taste the agony as the music swelled, The swan made the only decision it knew would work to take away a little of the pain of heart break and betrayal: killing itself, and it hurt. The song ended and they stood together in silence.
It was a little while before John could say anything. "Sherlock that is... I don't know if I have words to describe it mate. Its bloody incredible! If you ever decide ballet isn't for you go join the bloody philharmonic you talented sod!" John laughed and patted Sherlock on the shoulder. "Seriously though, you're something else. Anyway, on to the dancing" He flopped down on the floor next to Sherlock who still wasn't moving. "You alright?" John asked cautiously and Sherlock shook his head clear, gave John an unreadable look and hit replay, gliding to the centre of the floor in perfectly executed bourrée and suddenly John understood what Ms. Adler had meant.
Each step was executed to perfection certainly, but there was none of the depth of emotion that the music had in the movements. The transitions from White swan to Black were almost unnoticable, as if he didn't quite know how to portray seduction in the blatant manner the Black swan would have and somehow even with John right there at his disposal he ignored the fact that this was a pas de deux, not instructing as to what John would be doing at any
given moment, just dancing. Perfectly, but without that sparkle that made a good dancer great. He finished and John rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe try to just... Go with it. You don't have to calculate every blink, just feel the music, the depth of it and go again for me." Sherlock gave a wooden nod and repeated what he had done before.
When the song finished John circled Sherlock, eyeing him as if he could fix the issues just by looking hard enough. Three minutes in Sherlock started to blush. John actually had an idea as to what he could do to demonstrate the fact that there was an issue because just saying it outright would probably be ignored again. So he continued his circles and leaned closer, until every circle made them brush together and then he whispered "Do you trust me?" into Sherlock's ear and was a bit pleased when he swallowed hard and nodded, he didn't seem the type to give trust away.
John smiled as he circled again, this time stopping with Sherlock's back against his chest and breathing warm air against his neck. Sherlock shivered and then cut off a gasp as John's hand trailed lightly behind it, reaching up into his curls while the other arm spun him around and then John pressed their lips together (He let go of Sherlock enough that he could pull away, he hoped he didn't but he could) and kissed him for all he was worth, and Sherlock responded, in his own clumsy sort of fashion, pressing back against John who began walking him backwards until they hit wall and Sherlock gasped, giving John the perfect opportunity to introduce his tongue to the proceedings. Sherlock let out an utterly inhuman noise that John couldn't help but find unbelievably hot and he growled into Sherlock's mouth in return, sliding
his hands down to a well toned arse and lifting, forcing Sherlock to wrap his legs around his waist and bend his head down to continue the kiss, to deepen it further as he pressed the entire lithe body against his own. Those little noises kept escaping and every time John meant to stop he found himself kissing even more hungrily, grabbing handfuls of the ridiculously plush arse at his disposal and immersing himself in the entire little whines for mercy. He could feel everything through the thin layer of dark leggings that separated Sherlock from him and he knew he had succeeded in seducing him, he hadn't quite expected to take it as far as he had but now that he had he was pretty sure he'd like to continue, if Sherlock was alright with that.
He broke their lips apart gently and slid Sherlock back to an almost fully upright position (his knees seemed to be failing him at the moment, John would be lying if he said he wasn't proud.) with their foreheads leaning against each other's and gave Sherlock a second to calm himself down. "That was me seducing you the way a swan should seduce a prince." John uttered into the quiet that was broken only by Sherlock panting. "But also in the way a man seduces another. Is it working?" John asked casually, moving so he could stare into Sherlock's eyes. Flushed and hair in an even wilder disarray he looked wonderful, alive. Big eyes blinked at him and Sherlock nodded slowly, making John grin.
"Good. Its working for me too. That is if you'd be amenable to maybe keeping that up, The two of us together. I mean I know we only just met but there's something about you... I know I'd like to stay wherever you are." Sherlock seemed to need a minute to pull himself together. "I wish someone had told me I'm so good I can make a talker speechless." John joked and Sherlock swallowed, blushing to his hairline.
"It's... I would like to but... My practical experience of em... This sort of thing would be limited to a singular occasion, right now, and I've gathered that this would be an issue for most." John gaped at him in disbelief. "That was your first kiss?!" Sherlock got a few shades darker as he nodded. Now that was truly unbelievable. Sherlock was a devastating creature, ridiculously good looking, talented, funny and smart, how on earth he was only just being kissed for the first time now at seventeen was something else. It would explain some of the reluctance in dancing the seduction: he truly didn't know how to. John felt a bit bad actually, his first kiss had been a much gentler affair with a pretty girl from the village, his first kiss with another boy had been a dare at a rather wild party about three years back. Not exactly a gentle introduction to the world of intimacy in any case.
"I don't mind. Can I do something quickly, it won't hurt or anything like that just, with your permission this time..." John placed two fingers under his chin and tilted his face to look at him, brushing a curl away from his forehead and smiling into his eyes. "Can I kiss you?" Sherlock looked confused but gave a quiet ok and John took his face in both hands and kissed him again, watching as his eyes slid closed and actually feeling tension leave his body beneath the tender ministrations. Perfectly poised for the dance. John broke away, reaching with one hand to replay the music.
"Dance it with me." John twirled away from Sherlock and they began, the innocent White swan pirouetteing into his vision and John reacted, chasing in a series of petit jeté that were never quite quick enough to catch Sherlock, dancing away on pointe with all the grace of a top danseur and slowly coming back until they were dancing in step, and the Prince caressed the wings spread against his chest, carrying them almost as he ran with the beautiful swan he was falling for, and when the swan leaned out in an arabesque he was there with both hands, lifting him into the air like he was taking flight, gently placing him down and letting him dance away as the minutes till morning ticked down.
They were spinning away in tandem piqué turns and when they came back together White was transformed into the Black swan and The prince had no idea, only that he wanted him. The swan was alive against him, an electric presence like fireworks or lightning, a high voltage energy sign that warned that this Swan was dangerous and not to be touched but The Prince was blinded by his love and couldn't see it, The Black swan spun lithely around him and leaped into fouetté, a whip cracking in the air before they seamlessly melded into the promenade, an awestruck fool unaware that his true love was going to be lost to him forever as he spun his twin around and around, getting on one knee before him in a fluid motion as if proposing and rising as he accepted, dancing together for another moment and then he danced away euphoric.
The white swan returned but The Prince didn't see him, no matter how close he danced or spun or leaped trying to make him remember. The Prince danced off to the left leaving the White swan centre stage, dancing his grief, reaching out his hand one last time before he crumpled in a heap, dead.
John was covered in sweat by the time they'd finished. He had no idea how much time had passed or how he'd known what to do, how they'd known, but they had and it had been spectacular. Every emotion had passed between them, John had been the Prince and Sherlock the Swans. It could be improved of course, John knew his movement had been rusty and he'd like to do a few more partnered bits after all it was a pas de deux but aside from that... He flopped down on his back next to Sherlock who was still in his little heap on the floor. "You were perfect Sherlock." John whispered as he rubbed the slim back through a thin shirt. "Not yet." He mumbled and then Sherlock raised his head and pressed their lips together and he could feel John's eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, the race of his heart, the little beads of sweat sparkling on his forehead and then, then he was perfect.
A/N: Cechetti is an Italian method of ballet that focuses on anatomy and rigidity in dance as far as classical structure allows
Bourrée - The use of movement in pointe shoes to make it look like you're gliding.
Pas de deux- literally step of two, a partnered dance in ballet
Petit jeté - small leaps
Arabesque - Dancer is supported by one foot and has the other leg extended behind them making a 90° angle
Piqué turns - A series of travelling turns done on one leg, pointed forwards in quick succession while the other is bent and pointed towards the knee
Fouetté - A whipping movement in which the body turns in the direction of the working leg as it passes in front or behind leg.
Promenade - The dancer maintains any definition position in this case Arabesque on one leg as they spin, in pas de deux their partner generally helps them.