Sherlock was bored. Bored, bored, bored. He'd behaved himself admirably, showing uncharacteristic self-restraint during John and Mary's wedding ceremony and the subsequent dinner and first dance. Upon Mary's insistence that it was tradition, he'd even danced with the maid of honor, a very stiff waltz, holding the young woman as far away as possible while she tried her best to snuggle closer. He was on his best behavior and more than one wedding guest had their eye on the famous Sherlock Holmes, dashing yet intriguingly distant in his morning suit and golden waistcoat. As the champagne flowed freely, the appreciative glances from the female guests became lustier, more direct, and he found himself growing more and more anxious as he declined more and more invitations to the dance floor. The maid-of-honor (Cheryl?), sidled up to him with a warm smile, extended her hand and purred, "I really must insist, Mr. Holmes, that the next dance is mine. I even put in a special request with the deejay."

Sherlock stared at her coldly, opening his mouth to deliver a devastating ridicule on her presumption, when he caught the eye of John who smiled at him with more warmth and genuine affection that he had since Sherlock's return from the dead. Oh, yes, he was being a good boy today. Not going to ruin John's big day, especially since he had already ruined a couple of years of his life. Gulping down the harsh words, he stared into Charmaine? Sharon's? simpering face, before he caught a flash of golden yellow spinning merrily on the dance floor. Molly, who had happily made the rounds with at least a dozen partners since the dancing began, was involved in a rather complicated Robot routine with Mike Stamford. Her cheerful laugh rang out and he straightened, sorted his face into a toothy, apologetic smile at his would be partner, "Dreadfully sorry, but I've promised the next dance to Dr. Hooper. Excuse me."

Leaving the disappointed young woman behind, Sherlock tapped a sweaty Stamford on the shoulder, "May I cut in?" Stamford, his moon walk cut short, grinned at the detective, "Of course!" and gave a wink as Molly completed a pirouette that brought her face to face with the man she adored.

"Oh! Sherlock, another dance?" Molly smiled, "I thought you'd only promised the one dance for appearances' sake." Sherlock looked at her approvingly, taking in her big yellow bow, pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, "I need your help, Molly." Molly's brow furrowed, "On the dance floor?"

"Especially on the dance floor. The maid-of-honor is trying to seduce me, and she's not even being clever about it," Sherlock groaned, as he placed his hand lightly on Molly's waist and took her other hand in his, positioning them for a waltz. Molly's breathing quickened as she stared into Sherlock's intense blue gaze. They'd certainly gotten closer with her assisting him in the great deception, and she was definitely much more self-assured as she knew she was counted among his closest and dearest. Even so, the romance of the evening, both dressed in their best, made her catch her breath and her heart beat faster. For his part, Sherlock was looking at her with a look that was tender, almost shy as they waited briefly for the music to begin.

As the opening strains of "Sexy Thing," filled the air, Sherlock looked confused and Molly dismayed. They stood stiffly, still in position for a formal waltz. "Oh, ah…" Molly began, "I don't know if this is quite the song…" Sherlock caught the eye of Charlotte [that was it] who smirked and began to saunter toward the frozen couple.

"Nonsense," Sherlock rumbled, and began to lead Molly in a lively Viennese around the dance floor. Thank God for those ballroom dancing lessons I took, thought Molly giddily as she was whirled around by Sherlock's steady hand. Too many episodes of Strictly Come Dancing led Molly and a few friends to a local dance studio. Molly had been a surprisingly quick study, and she could see Sherlock was pleased that she was able to keep up with him.

The incongruity of their dance steps to the music was not lost on the rest of the revelers as many drew back to watch. John looked up from his beautiful bride's face to see the consulting detective spinning Molly in a waltz to the soulful, disco beat. The pair clearly faltered for a moment as they attempted a kind of modified polka before settling into a rhumba step.

Molly's hips began to swing seductively and Sherlock pressed closer to her. Oh, yes, they had found their groove now. "I believe in miracles," John murmured with a grin.