Foggy damp and dark, the weather outside was simply put, horrendous. Yet it was just another day on Baker Street, nothing truly out of the ordinary, outside at least. Inside in 221B a beautiful slow violin piece was playing, nothing strange with that, Sherlock Holmes was a brilliant violinist, obviously, but this evening Mr. Holmes was not actually playing the violin, he was at the moment waltzing around, his arms held as if holding another for a dance, all though at the moment Sherlock was very much alone, ‘road-testing’ his self-composed wedding melody, recorded just the day before, for his best friend’s wedding. John Watson, Dr. John Hamish Watson the man Sherlock was waiting for, he had promised John to teach him how to dance for his wedding, John as it were had never bothered with dance, quite unlike Sherlock who, albeit not mentioning it to anyone, enjoyed dancing very much.
Sherlock had promised John to teach him solely to spend more time with the man, for whatever reason Mr. Holmes had found himself getting quite fond of the slightly older man, internally scolding himself for the sentiment each day, “Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side, little brother” he could hear his brother’s voice scolding him in his head. Shaking himself up a bit, ridding his mind palace off his brother’s words he smiled, Sherlock Holmes had found himself a goldfish, yes, granted he knew very well that it was too late, John had found the woman of his life, meaning John and him would most likely drift apart soon, but he had been there for him, been a part of John’s journey to happiness, and there was, is, NOTHING Sherlock wouldn’t do to keep him happy, John held his heart unknowingly, yes, but Sherlock knew it would always be safe with his blogger.
Pausing the music Sherlock went to the kitchen to boil water for tea, he figured John would be home soon and if there’s one thing he was certain about, it was that his flatmate liked a nice cuppa after a long day at work.
The front door to 221 Baker Street swung open and John called up the stairs “Sherlock?” He had completely forgotten their agreement about dance lessons, today that is. Whole week long he and Sherlock had been practicing and He had to admit he was glad Sherlock still bothered trying, John knew very well what a horrible dancer he was, and had to applaud his friend for not having given up on him like all the dance tutors in the past had. But today of all days, being their last day of practice, John had had an awful lot of patients, and he’d simply forgotten about time, with being as busy as he had been he had forgotten he was supposed to leave work early to go home to Sherlock. The question now was would he still bother trying?
Running up the stairs reaching the open kitchen door John smiled at the sight greeting him, there stood his best friend, greeting him with a freshly poured cuppa tea and a warm smile spread on his normally expressionless face. “You are late” he stated, the smile vanishing almost as soon as John had registered it being there, his own fading away with remorse, he had definitely screwed up now, losing Sherlock’s interest with being late, “Damn my work” He cursed under his breath, bringing the tea up to his lips.
Sitting down in his own worn out leather chair Sherlock turned to deducing his friend, as much as he hated to admit it, it had hurt him that John was so late, he shouldn’t feel anything but incredulousness, uncaring was what he was supposed to be, sentiment was a defect, but why had John stood him up leaving him feeling so hurt?
*Tousled hair, bloodshot eyes, bags under his eyes, tiredness, that much was clear, his breathing pained? No not pained he’s just out of breath, been running. Muddy shoes, he’s been running all the way from Bart’s, why? Upon further examination of his eyes, sympathy, remorse…* “You’ve been working over, due to a sick co-worker, taking his… no, Her patients along with your own, that’s the reason you’re late, and you’re sorry for it. You even ran all the way home from work” Finding himself gazing at John’s tear-filled eyes he raised an eyebrow in question, it seemed that he had hurt his friend by the statement, the deduction.
“You utter…” The smaller male could find no words to finish the sentence, Sherlock never ceased to amaze him, going from a spiteful child to an interested man, a hurt person to a forgiving friend. “Thank you” John smiled “for forgiving me for being late, and not letting you know, I-“ Sherlock raised his hand to stop his friend’s words “I know John, you’ve had a long day. Sit down drink your tea and let us chat before continuing our practicing, we have all night” Smiling lovingly Sherlock stood to guide John to his chair, cupping his friend’s face in his hands wiping away his tears with his thumbs, John looked at him embarrassed by his tears, yet thankful for Sherlock not mentioning them smiling weakly, “thank you”. A nod, that was all the response John got, but he didn’t actually expect more. Sherlock was always like that, hesitant almost distant to everyone around him, oblivious to feelings, or so he claimed ‘Highly functioning sociopath’ a small chuckled escaped his lips at the memory of the first time he heard Sherlock say that, needless to say he’d proven himself wrong countless times.
“What’s so funny?” The tallest leaned his head to the side, watching smaller with an expressionless face, he never quite understood the feelings John brought upon him, let alone feelings at all. “Just… reminiscing is all” smiling up at Sherlock John reached for his hand, “shall we?” Sherlock once more wiped stray tears away from his friends face and took his hand, taking the female stance for a waltz before turning for the music, “We shall, dear Watson”.
If Dr Watson had paid attention in that very second, he’d seen the tear struggling to fall from Sherlock’s eye, he didn’t however and even if he had, Sherlock hadn’t been able to explain it as he himself didn’t know why it was there.
For hours the two just spun around, lost in the music steeling themselves for the moment it would end, a moment neither of them really wanted. ‘End of an era’ Mrs Hudson had called it, and deep down Sherlock knew she was right, John was to be married the very next day, with a wonderful woman, the best partner he could have found, Sherlock knew she had her flaws but that’s really what makes anyone perfect, their flaws, what else should he read from them?
“Sherlock?” John starred at him sadly, he’d stopped their dance. It was needed he figured, since they both leaned on each other, but he wasn’t ready, not yet. “You should go John…” Sherlock’s eyes locked with John’s, “You’re obviously tired after a long work day, go sleep…” Cold statements, sentiment far gone, Sherlock had suppressed his feelings again, John could easily tell how guarded he’d suddenly become. Sighing deeply the smaller male nodded “I should… big day tomorrow” Wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s neck he pulled him down for a hug, “Just one more dance… please?” A reluctant chuckle left the cupid bow lips, then a nod and warm strong arms slowly leaving the smaller frame, “but I decide which song!”
Giggles, chuckles, wholehearted laughs all echoing through the halls off 221 baker street. The two men in 221b dancing in the apartment to none other than Dean Martin’s ‘Sway’, Sherlock singing along as he spins John around in his arms, John’s back resting against Sherlock’s chest, long slender arms wrapped around his waist as they sway from side to side, “I can hear the sounds of violins, Long before it begins, Make me thrill as only you know how, Sway me smooth, sway me now…. Other dancers may be on the floor, Dear, but my eyes will see only you, Only you have the magic technique, When we sway I go weak…” Sighing softly breathing in the scent of his friend Sherlock closes his eyes, a single tear falling as he slowly pushes john away, “Bedtime mister, you’re getting married tomorrow!” laughing softly John turns expecting to see Sherlock’s face, but is met with his back “yes mother” he answers sarcastically with a faint smile “goodnight”.
Sherlock waits for the sound of John’s footsteps to fade away completely before finally turning around “sweet dreams, dear Watson”. After turning down the volume, ‘sway’ plays once more in the sitting room of 221b, Sherlock tapping his arm softly, a tourniquet already on his upper arm and a syringe with clear liquid in his hand. “Sentiment is a chemical defect… so is this…”
~When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me~