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What, you want to try it now?

[John said, his surprise obvious as he turned from the mirror to step closer to the gramophone. He picks up a few of the records and looks them over.]

You should give that uniform a bit more than just one night. And neither of us are busy.

[He selects something that sounds like a reasonably slow song and sets it to play, listening for a short time to the scratch of the needle on vinyl before the song starts and is just as he expected.]

[John let out a breath, his eyes trained on the spinning record before wandering up to lock with Sherlock's, a sheepish grin making it's way across his face. He takes a moment or two to appreciate the music and then raises one hand in a silent offering manner, making sure his gaze is unwavering even as his ears and cheeks flush.]

[Sherlock smirks and takes his hand.]

So, which technicalities are most troubling?

Nothing important right now...

[John muttered, dropping his gaze to Sherlock's chest as he tried to find the easy rhythm of the slow song, before looking up once again.]

I'm sure we'll figure them out.

Edited 2012-08-17 22:29 (UTC)

[Sherlock's smile broadened as he ran his hand along John's back, resting firmly against his shoulder blades as he made sure they stood quite close, none of that arms length apart awkwardness.

There were very few times he'd been this close to John. Even sleeping in the same bed, they kept to their own sides, hands the only thing allowed to touch. He could count the number of times they'd embraced on one hand. They generally orbited each other, colliding on accident more times than they simply found one another. It was nice.

He decided he liked the sturdier feel of John to the gentler presence of Evelyn. He liked that his hand had space to cover, muscles to follow. John felt... formidable. Not the sort of word one would normally use to describe their dance partner but it was the only one that came to mind.

With his neck bent it hardly felt like six inches of separation between the tops of their heads. This wasn't one of those instances where the aggressive value of being taller than someone was fitting to the game.]

[John was very aware of the large hand on his back, feeling the warmth through the layers of his uniform even as he lifted his own hand and cupped the jut of Sherlock's lean hip, clearing his suddenly tight throat as he did so.

It was one thing to tangle their fingers together in the dark secret of his room in search of comfort, it was another to be so close, so focused on another person--and yet, not touching--that he could feel the buzz of that nervous, genius energy radiating off the other man down the whole length of John's body. It was like the first night they'd been on the chase together, when they'd collapsed against 221B's wall and he'd felt that same aura jittering off his new flatmate down the whole flat of his upper arm that was pressed against Sherlock's as they'd giggled.

John licked his lips, giving an experimental sway to the continuing music as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It truly had been a while since he'd done this, and while the positioning of his hands was generally the same that it would be on a female partner, this was very much Sherlock Holmes he was dancing with, who was tall and very much male and very much the last person he'd ever ~~hoped~~ expected to be dancing with like this.]

[Sherlock chuckled lightly, careful of John's feet as he urged them to travel more and sway less.]

You're rusty but you're not bad. Couple of drinks in your system and dimmed lights and I think we'll do just fine.

[He kept his voice soft and low with John standing so close. Sometimes words were better felt in the rumble of air between two people than perceived as language to the ear.]

[John's eyes fell down to their feet as they started traveling, their steps becoming wider and bolder within the gentle parameters of the music. He didn't stumble, not yet at least, but he did misstep and throw off their rhythm once or twice; hesitating a bit too long and second guessing where his foot should land so as to keep up their spinning and avoid crushing his friend's toes.

When Sherlock mentioned the drinks, he let out an absent chuckle, trying to ignore the shiver that shot down his spine at the whisper of the detective's low tone and the warmth of his breath hitting John's ear.]

I hope so. Or the drinks could have the opposite effect and this could all go belly up.

[John joked with his voice just as soft, shifting his grip in Sherlock's and absently rubbing his thumb against the back of his friend's hand as he avoided stepping on the other man's foot once again with a sympathetic and frustrated hiss.]

[Sherlock laughed a bit louder with that, turning his nose to John's hair, continuing to speak softly.]

I don't think anyone will be watching all that closely. And it hardly matters what they think anyway.

[He gave John's hand a squeeze, his other hand sliding along the shape of his scapula.]

Edited 2012-08-18 01:10 (UTC)

[John blinked slowly, breath hitching as he feels Sherlock curl closer and chuckle against his ear. Bold, or perhaps in a daze, he slid his hand back along Sherlock's side to settle in the small of his back, cupping there against Sherlock's shirt. Keeping him close.]

No... don't suppose it does.

[His eyes are still trained on the floor, but he isn't really watching their feet anymore. John just doesn't want to dislodge the taller man as he's settled against him, doesn't want Sherlock to straighten or move away.]

[That close, it really was more a matter of swaying in small steps than worried turns and hesitant footing. He rather pointedly placed his fingers over where the bullet scar would be if not masked under layers of well made cloth.]

Is it wrong of me to be grateful for the shot that brought you back from Afghanistan just in time to meet me?

If you just say that you're happy I was shot, it probably would be. To sensible people.

[He says 'sensible people' like he's teasing, and the smile on his face indicates as much even if Sherlock can't quite see it.

No one had ever actively taken interest in his scar before Sherlock. Few people had been close enough to him to see it, not that he made a point to hide it, mind. But most gave it a wide birth, circling their touch or their gaze or their thoughts away from the large starburst scar radiating out from his shoulder. It figured that Sherlock would be the one to press his fingers against it and be thankful it happened.]

But in that way... I can't help but agree, all things considered. So I'm just as wrong, I suppose.

[The pressure of the detective's hand feels like a brand and the nerveless skin sings under his uniform.]

Why would anyone want to be right, then?

[He kisses his temple gently. Because he can. Because it feels right. Because it's there.]

[John's fingers twitch and press against the skin through Sherlock's shirt, tilting his head just slightly into the warm kiss. He doesn't know when or why his eyes slid shut, but when he opens them again they stay half lidded as he brushes the bridge of his nose against Sherlock's jaw line. His mouth, which he opened to respond, clicks shut when no words form, and he can barely get down the thick swallow that follows.

They're still swaying in small steps around one another, though it's more as a single entity now. John barely realizes that the song is coming to an end as softly as it started, not making any indication to signal as much to his partner either.]

[Sherlock stops moving when the song eventually ends but does not let go.]

Song's stopped.

[Not that they both can't tell. Not that they're both so wrapped up in the small bit of world they currently occupy to be unaware of something small like sound and a lack thereof.]

Yeah... So it has.

[John muttered, not moving or shifting his grip at all to attempt stepping away. He does, however, finally raise his head from where they were curled together, looking up at Sherlock, gaze darting over the detective's features.]

Should... Should we start another one? I'm not sure I've got it quite down yet.

[Sherlock chuckled at the lie as he let go long enough to grab another album and set is down under the needle.]

I suppose we must then. At least once more. Then it would probably be best to take that off before we get it wrinkled.

Oh. Right. Afterwards, I will.

[He gnaws on his lower lip as the static of the record under the needle, very aware of the space Sherlock used to occupy and not really wanting to linger on why for both their sakes but just wanting it to be remedied.

And trying to convince himself it probably wouldn't do to kiss his friend again.]

[Sherlock dances with him one last time, sliding in close, hands comfortably sat back where they had been before. He doesn't have anything more to say and most of what he could say is unneeded. He's comfortable here, with John, breathing in the same breaths. And he feels that John is too.]

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