Dance Lessons

Location: 221B Baker St.

"Sherlock," John said, stepping into the kitchen of their flat, "where's my computer?"

"I'm using it."

"What happened to the seven laptops you usually use?" Sherlock ignored the question. "Did you open my email accout?"

"No, you left it open, and I declined to waste my time logging out."

"Well, did I get any interesting mail?"

"Nothing of great importance. Your sister's getting married."

"What? How is that not important?"

"She got divorced, and now she's getting married. Normal, boring, people things. At least I told you."

"Fine. But, did I recieve an invitation? Did you? Or was it just a vague warning? Harry doesn't always-"

"I don't need her entire personality description, John. You recieved an invitation, and I replied."

"You replied? Why? Don't you think maybe I should have decided if I could come?"

"Oh, come off it John, like you weren't going to go anyway!"

"What I really want to know is if you're coming."

"The guest list was suspicious. I know everyone who's been in contact with Harry for the last six months, so why are there this many new names? I'm going to make sure it's not a trap."

"It's not a trap, most of them are probably her fiancée's friends."

"No, I know all of them, too."

"Are you stalking my sister? Also, were you invited, or are you going to just show up?"

"The invitation said 'John Watson, plus one'. So yes, Harry at least knows I'm coming."

"You invited yourself as my DATE?" Sherlock didn't answer. "Will I have to dance?"

"Oh, probably. I don't know, the bridesmaids are always looking for someone to dance with."

"What about you?"

"Why would I dance?"

"Well, do you know how?"

"Of course."

"Teach me."

"What?"

"I can't dance." Sherlock sighed and got out of his chair.

"Fine. Music." John hit the power button on a nearby radio. "I hate this song."

"Shut up, Sherlock." Sherlock took John's hands.

"You're really terrible at this."

"Thanks for the confidence boost."

"I really hate this song." They danced in silence for a minute. John realised that Sherlock was actually smiling. 

"Are you enjoying this?"

"No. It's comical. I feel sorry for any girl who tries to dance with you at the reception." John was smiling now, too. Sherlock looked like he was about to laugh. His eyes were strange, greenish-blue and more relaxed that John had seen before. He was always thinking about something, but right now he was more here, not focusing on anything, just happy. John was pretty happy, too. He tried to spin, but just stepped on Sherlock's feet. They both sat on the floor, laughing. 

"Maybe you shouldn't try that again, John."

"Yeah." He didn't quite know what else to say. Sherlock's eyes were still sparkling. John realised he was staring, but Sherlock was too. He was actually really close. John could just lean over the slightest bit and–

Kiss him. Why would he do that? Stop thinking. Sherlock was Sherlock, his best friend. Why would he do that?

Because Sherlock was Sherlock, and there was no one like him. Because he was right there, his glittery eyes closed, still smiling. John thought of everything he loved about him and the strangely wonderful five minutes of dancing and laughing. He just had to lean over the slightest bit...