Just a little nugget that hit me one day. I do like the idea of Sherlock and John dancing, sort of like Holmes and Watson in Sherlock Holmes 2: A Gay of Shadows- GAME! I meant GAME of Shadows ;)

Warnings: none really, just some platonic Johnlock.

Disclaimer: Clearly, I don't own Sherlock, or John, or Benedict, or Martin... if only I did... *sigh*

John and Sherlock were both bored. There was nothing else to say. Sherlock hadn't gotten a case in two weeks, and John's patience was wearing thin.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" John finally asked in exasperation, "Y'know, that doesn't involve blowing up the flat or putting body parts in the kitchen? Can't you play your violin?"

Sherlock just huffed and sprawled over the couch again. He hadn't moved all day. He really worried John sometimes with the way he rarely ate or slept or moved when he got into these moods. It was stressful, especially since John cared for him so much. He probably loved Sherlock more than he'd ever loved anyone… platonically, of course. Sure, he'd give up his life to save him, but that's just a sign of how much he cared for him. He'd never thought about Sherlock sexually, but he definitely loved him. So when they'd been nearly pushed to their breaking point, John finally got on his laptop and started playing some violin music, covers of popular songs. Sherlock huffed again, but John was unfazed. He simply stood beside Sherlock, held out his hand, and said, "Dance with me."

"What?"

"You heard me. C'mon. Dance with me."

"I don't know how."

"Then I'll teach you."

Sherlock regarded the doctor's hand with some trepidation before carefully taking it and getting to his feet. John led the detective into the middle of the sitting room. There, he directed Sherlock to put one hand on his shoulder and took the detective's other hand in his own; his other hand sat at Sherlock's waist. Then, he carefully directed Sherlock to take a step here or there with a steady, "One, two, three, four," to keep them on track.

"Why do people like dancing?" Sherlock asked quietly, sounding genuinely curious.

"It's a way to get closer. It can be intimate, if you want it to be, or it can just be casual, like at a club. You can dance with your friends, your family, or the person you love… even someone you don't know. People just like it. They bond with it. Right now, we're alleviating boredom with it."

The two of them shifted closer, Sherlock's chin nearly resting on John's head. It was nice. The chant of "One, two, three, four," had long ago died from John's lips. They simply moved in a slow circle, their steps shuffling by each other, eyes on the floor. It, too, was nice. Sherlock felt calmer, less anxious, like his mind wasn't racing as much. John had the desire to lean forward and rest his head on Sherlock's shoulder… so he did it. The detective seemed almost unsurprised, wrapping his arm around John's shoulders. John's hand rested on the small of the detective's back, fingers splayed over the fabric of Sherlock's shirt. The detective pressed his cheek to the doctor's forehead, their fingers laced loosely together as they spun lazily. All the tension of the last few days fled the room when John closed all the space between them. A sheet of paper wouldn't fit between their bodies they were pressed that close. The doctor began humming along with one of the songs he actually knew, just reveling in the moment. He could smell Sherlock, the scent filling his nostrils and almost overwhelming him. The world was reduced down to the two of them and the music. It was perfect.

Sherlock's text tone was jarring in the peace of the room, and the men broke apart quickly. The detective fumbled awkwardly for his mobile.

"Erm… it's Lestrade. He's got a case for us."

"That's good news. You won't be so insufferable now."

Sherlock smirked at him, a slight flush in his cheeks, and said, "Well… I… umm… I rather enjoyed… that. The dancing."

"Then I suppose we can do it again sometime."

The tall man nodded, chewing his lip. John watched him, and he was fairly surprised when Sherlock swooped down and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The pale eyes avoided his. John simply took one of his hands and squeezed it gently, responding with, "You're welcome."

They shared a smile before Sherlock stated, "The game is on, John," and grabbed his coat and scarf, making for the door. Together they run down the street for a cab, their odd footfalls counting out a, "One, two, three, four," in John's head.

Perfect.

To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak.

-Hopi Indian Saying

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