Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, the television show Sherlock or any of the characters therein from either realm. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

The music I imagined them dancing along with is the Dallas String Quartet's version of Lady Gaga's Paparazzi. If you haven't heard it, do so.

…

The Dance

It had been Sherlock's intention to leave the wedding directly after playing the happy couple their waltz. This was made more concrete in his mind when he took note that Hermione had missed the wedding ceremony and she had yet to show up to the reception. When he had texted her, she had said she had business. His mind railed at that. What business was important enough to miss this wedding that she had promised to attend?

That's when he saw Hermione rushing into the reception, looking harried. Wearing her long brown leather jacket, her hair was up in a sloppy bun that allowed curls to escape and float around her face that only had a light spattering of makeup. She went over to the bride and groom, apologizing profusely for her tardiness. Handing them a small gift, she waited as they opened a small box just two centimeters larger than John's hand. The couple gasped, as John pulled out the small silver loving cup.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed in on it. It was about the size of John's hand and looked antique. A flat bowl shape, it was more than likely from the time of Merlin—if the histories were accurate that is.

"I found this in Paris about two weeks ago," she told them. "The runes around the side are a blessing on your union. I couldn't think of anything more appropriate than this." She worried her lower lip. "It was this or a gift card."

This had Mary laughing joyously, as she stood up and hugged the other woman.

"The gift is brilliant!" Mary told her, pulling back. "Thank you!"

"You're very welcome," she murmured, patting John on his shoulder with a grin. "I need to snag Sherlock before he escapes. He promised me a dance!"

"Good luck with that one," John replied, already looking forward to seeing if she could get him onto the dance floor for so much as to be able to deduce the band from a safe distance.

Sherlock watched as she went over to the band leader, handing him a piece of music. He looked it over and grinned. He nodded to her and she proceeded to hand it to the others there as well. She then handed the band leader cash from the looks of it with a grin. The detective blinked at it in shock. Just how much did she give the man? The amount stopped being an issue the moment Hermione took off her ever present leather jacket. He felt his heart just about stop in his chest.

The red dress draped and clung to her every curve. The short skirt flitted around her legs and back dipped low to emphasize all of the loveliness of her figure, making him sure that nearly every man there was getting more than an eye full of the woman in question. Sherlock blinked. Where were her scars? His eyes narrowed and took note of the fact that they were still there but covered with makeup. Was that what was taking her so long, he wondered, just as she went out over to where he was watching her.

"Dance with me," she murmured. "You promised."

"You're late," he told her, dropping his coat and started walking over with her to the dance floor.

She winced. "It couldn't be avoided."

They stopped and faced each other on the dance floor. "What happened?"

"Bank robbery," she told him. "I couldn't get away from the investigation. I tried. I ended up having to call Harry. Needless to say, he extracted me, but not before I was very late to the wedding."

The first note played, as Sherlock asked, "Investigator?"

"Suspect," she answered as his hand went to the middle of her back and pulled her hard against his body. "Tango?"

"That goes without saying," he replied.

"Argentinian?" she inquired.

"That would be for the best," he sighed, taking up her hand in his own and began leading her around the dance floor. "Why were you considered a suspect in a bank robbery?"

"Long story," she told him, as he dipped her just so.

"I have the time," he replied as he pulled her back up to standing, tilting her entire body as he stepped around her legs and lifted her back to standing.

"Well, if you must know…"

"I must." He felt as her ankle and calf caressed his in a small foot flourish that had her leg slipping like silk around the outside of his own only to quickly return to the floor once again. "Do tell."

"When I was a young woman of eighteen…" she told him.

"During the war you never speak of," he muttered.

"Very," she confirmed, as Sherlock's leg inserted itself between her legs and spun them around several times like one unit, stopping on the other side of the dance floor. Hermione slid up and down once, extending her leg as she did so only to come back up again. "My friends and I had to attain something from a bank vault. As a result we might have broken into a bank to get it."

"Really?" He pressed his cheek to her temple, leaning forward, her body arching as he did so. He brought her back up, saying, "In London?"

"I'm not saying," she told him, spinning herself around so that her back was now to his front. His hand moved so that it was now pressing her all the more to himself, as her arm wrapped around his neck and her leg went between his in a small kick, as her mouth pressed a kiss to his jaw. "We got what we needed, but we didn't get away scot-free."

"I should say not," he muttered. "Given surveillance in banks alone, I doubt you could have."

"Different deterrent," she told him. "Nothing worth mentioning."

"Lying."

"You're stating the obvious," she purred, as she felt his hand move lower to her small belly and pulled her hips against him all the more. The intensity of this magnified by her own hand gliding over the hand pressing against her stomach before going to the side of his hip and flex her fingers there.

She spun back around to face him once again. His hand slid up her arm, taking her hand once more and pinned her firmly against his own body once again with his other. Walking her aggressively backward, he said, "You weren't arrested."

"No," she told him, now walking forward in a twisting fashion until their hips were plum and tightly pressed together. Bending one of her legs, she lifted it so that it looked like she was wrapping it around his hip, while extending her other leg out behind herself. He leaned back and with her, one of his violin player's hands holding the bent knee at his hip as she clutched the front of his shirt with one hand and he pinned her other hand behind herself during the dip. Standing straight, he looked her in the eyes, finding them dilated. Never knowing that only a rim of blue grey could be seen in his eyes, proving that he was just as aroused as she.

Dipping her to her side, he pulled her back up before stepping back and spinning her alone, pulling her back to himself with her face looking straight up at his. "Why not?"

Caressing his jaw with a single finger, she said, "That would be telling." Taking that same finger, she kissed it. His eyes closed as she glided it down his nose lightly, she pressed it to his lips. "Thank you for the dance."

"We're not done," he growled, his hands all the more insistent as he clearly wasn't letting her go. Primal and clear just what he wanted that moment and later…

"Far from it," she sighed, leaning into him all the more and nipped at his ear lobe making him hiss—but if it was from pain or desire, she didn't know. "But this conversation is over."

Meanwhile anyone and everyone that knew Sherlock Holmes was watching the dance in mingled shock and awe. The fact that he was a proficient dancer didn't come as a shock. What did was that it was with a woman and that the dance they were doing was as close to sex any of them had ever seen on the dance floor.

The sensuality of it was stark even as the movements were subtle. They were grace and sex and…My God! Did Sherlock just arch her over his arm and kiss her between her breasts?

John looked over to Mary and said, "I told you that there was something between them."

"Darling, when someone says that there is something between two people, I don't think they meant that," she murmured. "What that is, my dear Dr. Watson, is more than just a 'something'."

He had to laugh quietly to himself, as he admitted, "You're right." John watched as they moved around, glued to each other in a dance of desire and coupling. "I wonder if they know what it is between them."

She studied them a moment before she breathed, "I don't think so."

Chuckling, he said, "Neither do I."

The dance came to an end and the people who had stopped to watch them applauded. They ignored them, as Sherlock collected her jacket for Hermione and draped it over her shoulders. They went over to the newly wedded couple to wish them happy before collecting his things before slipping away into the night.

There were only two people that spoke about the music and it wasn't directly to the couple themselves. Greg sipped on his whiskey, leaning over to murmur to Molly, "I wonder if Sherlock knew he was dancing to Lady Gaga?"

Giggling Molly said, "I'll keep mum about it, if you will."

Both now laughing, they tapped their glasses and went on celebrating the wedding.

The end.

…

There you go. I couldn't get the idea of the two of them at the wedding like this. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a grace filled day.