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Chapter Text

Auditions for a ballet get much more interesting when an avant-garde dancer grabs the attention of picky ballet genius Sherlock Holmes.

The song John auditions to is Magic Fly by Space:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_ukfGAd8T4

Auditions for dancers were being held at the Stamford Theater in London for A Midsummer Night's Dream. This version was going to be futuristic and modern so prospective dancers were asked to show off less traditional routines. Mycroft Holmes, the show's composer, and his husband, Greg Lestrade-Holmes, the producer, were at the theater along with Mycroft's brother Sherlock, well-known ballet dancer and star, who would be playing fairy king Oberon. Sherlock's friend and co-star Irene Adler, playing Puck, were also there to help Mycroft and Greg judge and select dancers for call backs.

They were looking for someone to play the part of Titania, renamed Titan, to Sherlock's Oberon. This version of the ballet was gay-friendly, and one of the performances was a charity event with ticket sales being donated to LBGTQ+ causes, so Titan would be a male dancer. 

Sherlock wasn't really looking forward to having to watch a parade of wannabes hopping and leaping around on stage for most of the day. He was pretty sure almost all of them would ignore the requirements for less traditional dancing and would audition with the same tired classical routines. Although Sherlock loved and enjoyed dancing the classics, he was a stickler for what was needed from the production and and he wanted everything to be perfect. He also had a reputation for being somewhat of a primadonna and it usually took longer to find someone to dance opposite him if it wasn't Irene. The beautiful, headstrong young woman was equally as a perfectionist as Sherlock but also wasn't afraid to hold back on telling him off if need be.

*****

An hour in, and Sherlock really didn't see anyone so far who he felt had the right movement or look for Titan. Most of them were pretty good and had stuck to the requirements of more modern dancing, although some of the songs used Sherlock had no idea who they were, Irene had to keep telling him the names of the singers and bands, rolling her eyes the entire time. Sherlock really had to start listening to other genres besides classical and jazz.

One by one, each dancer sunk off the stage in defeat and dismay as Mycroft and Greg had to tell them they were wonderful but not right for the part and wished them luck with future endeavors. The two men were starting to get annoyed at Sherlock's constant rejection, and there was just one more dancer on the list for today.

"We've got the last audition for today Sherlock, and I hope this is the one, or we'll have to schedule another day, and it will put us behind schedule," Mycroft firmly told his brother. 

"Then we'll schedule another day if he isn't the one. You know whomever is cast as Titan is crucial to the ballet's success," Sherlock retorted. 

Mycroft just shook his head as Greg announced the last dancer's name. "John Watson, you're up!"

What an ordinary name for a dancer, Sherlock thought to himself as he waited for the man to begin.

Seconds later, a pounding disco beat paired with synth sounds could be heard. Sherlock frowned and turned towards Irene, who just shrugged. 

The curtains parted. A short man dressed in a space helmet and tight fitting silver top and tights appeared, gyrating in time to the music. Instantly Sherlock was interested. All the other dancers were tall and lithe. This John Watson was compact, muscular -especially in the thighs- and didn't have a dancer's build at all. More like an athlete's frame. And his spaceman costume certainly fit the mark for being futuristic, but it was like a throwback to the 70's sci-fi shows that Sherlock's dad liked watching. The music also sounded like the opening to a 70's space show. It was ethereal and spooky, yet adventurous. Sherlock had never heard anything like it. 

John began to leap and twirl. His moves were intense, urgent. They had their own kind of grace and delicateness, but there was a brusqueness to them to Sherlock liked. He wondered what John's face looked like under the helmet and he hoped he would remove it.

It didn't take long for the dancer to make Sherlock's hope come true. He quickly removed the helmet and began to dance around with it, looking at it longingly. Then he turned his face to the judges, and Sherlock let out a small gasp, which didn't go unnoticed by Irene, whose lips curled up into a small smirk. She knew he'd found his Titan.

John had short blond hair which cast off an otherworldly illumination under the theatre's lights. He had a rough, handsome face, which was lavishly made up. His eyes were lined in black liner, the lids painted a shimmery silver to match his outfit. His cheeks were dusted with silvery highlighter, and his lips were also silver as well. The look on his face matched the intensity of his moves. Sherlock was hypnotized. This dancer was absolutely beautiful and he pictured himself dancing alongside him.

Suddenly the dancer turned and threw his helmet towards Sherlock, who immediately threw his arms up to catch it. Sherlock was sure he saw a little devious grin on John's face. Oh, you clever man. That was improvised. 

John immediately went back into his routine while Sherlock continued to gaze intensely and cradle the helmet like it was a treasured jewel. Irene snuck a small glance at her friend, smiling at Sherlock's mesmerized face. She had to admit this John Watson was pretty damn good if he got Sherlock captivated and bewildered.

John maneuvered into a fast spin then slid onto the stage floor onto his knees, back arched to the point it nearly touched the floor, his arms raised and spreading out towards the sides of his head as if welcoming something from above to join him. Then he effortlessly stood to continue his quick powerful moves until the last bars of the sound wound down, until he stood still, extending his right arm out, like he was sending an invitation to come up on stage. His face was stoic at first, then broke into a wide grin. Sherlock's breath caught in his throat and his chest began to pound. No doubt about it, he was attracted to this gorgeous dancer and was ready to jump up and offer John the role of Titan himself.

Irene broke out into applause. "Magnificent!" she cried.

Mycroft was more reserved in his judgement. "That was most unique Mr. Watson."

"I really enjoyed the performance," Greg said. "You were futuristic but at the same time, whimsically retro. And I see you're not averse to wearing makeup."

John stood at parade rest, taking all the reactions in before speaking. "My sister did my face. She's a makeup artist in training."

"How did you come up with this performance?" Greg asked.

Sherlock jumped up out of his seat like his body was on fire. "Does it really matter Grady?" Before Greg could reply, Sherlock looked at John. "You've got the part. Be back here tomorrow at 9:00 am sharp to begin rehearsal."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft reprimanded, but his younger brother was adamant. "Mycroft, you said yourself you didn't want to schedule another day of auditions. None of the other dancers interested or intrigued me. John does. Sure he doesn't have the typical dancer's physique or moves, he's short and stocky---"

"Oi, I heard that!" John interrupted. "Can't help it if my rugby coach thought taking dancing classes would help get me coordinated again after my injury. Do you know how hard it is trying to add grace to leaping and jumping when you only do it to tackle another guy? It took years to even get me this far." 

"Athlete, I knew it!" Sherlock burst out. "I figured it was rugby or football." 

John blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Uh, do I still have the part?"

"Of course you do. Doesn't he?" Sherlock sharply turned to Mycroft and Greg, casting a steely gaze on his brother and brother-in-law.

"Absolutely," Greg answered. 

"If anyone cares about my opinion, I think John is the perfect Titan. Especially since Sherlock readily approves. It would mean less primadonna behavior on the stage. You remember last time we had to shut down for two days due to his strop," Irene chimed in, a coy look in Sherlock's direction, who just crossed his arms and huffed.

"You have a point Irene," Mycroft remarked. "We need a dancer who is not only talented in movement, but keeping my baby brother mollified so he will do his best."

"I am in this room you know," Sherlock retorted, his full lips curling into a pout.

To the surprise of everyone, John began laughing and jumped off the stage, heading towards Sherlock. He put an arm around the temperamental dancer. "Hey it's okay. They just want to make sure this all goes smoothly. I've watched you dance and you're amazing. Brilliant."

All Sherlock could do was turn his head away and blush prettily. 

"Wow, I think we've finally found someone to make Sherlock speechless," Irene murmured. "John Watson, you are a rare, perfect specimen."

John just chuckled. "Hey Sherlock, how about this rare, perfect specimen treats you to tea and scones, if you're up to it. If we're going to be working together, we should spend some time getting to know each other. So our working relationship can be smooth."

Sherlock turned back towards John and nodded.

"Great, let me shower, get this face paint off, and change back into normal clothes." John smiled at Irene, Greg, and Mycroft. "Thank you so much for this opportunity. I won't let you down."

"Welcome aboard John," Greg replied happily.

"And congratulations Sher on finding your new co-star and boyfriend," Irene added teasingly.

Sherlock was too happy to bite back at Irene. He'd found his Titan and the chance at romance. Not bad for a day's work. And of course the ballet was a success and that Sherlock and John lived happily ever after. 

Chapter Text

The song John dances to is Wait by Figure Study: https://youtu.be/3Qmrprx8Gi4

The taxi pulled up to the massive stone building. John got out, paid the driver, and looked up at the impressive piece of real estate. The word Diogenes was hung above the heavy double wooden doors in gold plated letters. It was the fanciest, most elegant club John was booked to perform at. He'd spent most of his career dancing in underground goth clubs with black lights, or flashy party palaces where everyone wore bright clothing and the latest dance hits blared from expensive speakers. He didn't mind it. It fulfilled his craving for excitement and danger.

Dancing in these clubs was dangerous because they catered to vampires and John was human. He knew at anytime a bloodsucker could attack him and try to drain him dry, or attempt to enthrall him into being a slave. He'd known of some dancers that didn't last one night because of it. 

John however, had a leg up on his fellow performers. Although he was mortal and ran the risk of being killed, he couldn't become a thrall. Before John became a dancer, he'd served in Afghanistan, making his way up to the rank of Captain. His military training had made him resistant to the seductive and powerful hypnotic calling of the vampires. When he got shot and invalidated out and returned to London, he was in desperate need of money and needed to feel useful and wanted again. Harry, newly sober and married to a kind vampire named Clara, suggested he become a Kine Dancer. Kine Dancers were humans who made good money dancing at the various vampire clubs and establishments throughout the city. You didn't have to be a good dancer, you just had to have a personality and a hook to get the vampires interested and throwing money your way. Harry had become a Kine Dancer to try and beat her alcoholism and it was in a club she met Clara, who promised to help her become sober if she became her companion. Harry agreed and now she was happy and healthy.

John decided to take Harry up on her suggestion, and she got him in contact with her old manager, Mike Stamford, who booked dancers to perform at clubs. He took one look at John and felt his military experience and stoic demeanor would be a hit with the vampires. Many of them had secret military kinks and would love a veteran dancing for them. He hired John right away and within the following week, he started dancing at clubs. He quickly became very popular with the vampires, who were turned on by his intense, athletic moves while dancing in nothing but camouflage and his dog tags. The vampires also learned quickly John Watson would be no one's thrall, and he gained the respect of the vampire club society. This respect kept him not only revered----but alive. 

******

Inside Diogenes, Mycroft Holmes, club owner and respected vampire, surveyed the crowd gathered inside the posh hall. Only the richest, refined vampires were allowed into his domain. He had no time or affinity for those creatures that reveled in debauchery simply because their powers allowed it. He had never hosted any Kine Dancers in his club because he heard the stories of vampires who lost their dignity while watching them and lost all control, acting like idiots. He vowed he would never lower himself or his club to such standards, but his mate, Gregory, had shown him a video of John Watson dancing at a club, and he was shocked at how the vampires just stood there and watched him in awe, not attempting to make a move towards him. This human had the command of the entire place. It was like he was the king and the vampires were his loyal subjects. Mycroft could tell he had been a military captain, and not just by his outfit. Anyone could dress up in camo and wear fake dog tags. This John Watson was the real deal. He could see no trace of fear in his face. John had even danced right in front of some of the vampires with a smirk on his face, knowing none of them would dare touch him. And when he was done, the vampires clapped and cheered respectfully, still not going near him.

Gregory had requested John perform for him on he and Mycroft's anniversary. The two had been together for fifty years, and Mycroft had planned a party to celebrate. He contacted Mike Stamford to book John. He was extremely interested to see the former army captain in person.

******

John was led to a large waiting room by an attractive brunette vampire named Anthea. The walls were painted blood red, a large comfortable gold chaise lounge cushioned in black sat against the wall. Two black oversized chairs were on the other side, a round table in between them with a brass lamp on top of the table. There was also a master bath, with a gold plated clawfoot tub underneath a bay window that gave off a view of the London skyline. There was a also a walk-in shower, a double vanity with basket of expensive lotions, soaps, and personal hygiene products sitting off to the side. 

The lounge also had a fully stocked bar along with some bottles of water. John grabbed a bottle and gulped half of the water down, giving off a satisfied sigh when he was done. He was a social drinker and never partook in any alcohol before his shows. He wanted to be sober and aware of his surroundings, and he danced much better while sober.

John opened his large duffel bag and took out a pair of black cargo trousers, a studded belt, red briefs, a tube of black eyeliner, cologne, a bottle of lotion, and hair gel. He decided not to wear his camo trousers, going for a more goth look tonight. He would still wear his dog tags though. They were part of his identity, part of a past he willingly admitted he didn't want to give up, and in a vain way, he felt more powerful and sexy while wearing them. It's like the tags gave him an up with the vampires. He had risked his life to keep them free. In some way, it was having a type of power they would never feel. 

John took off his oatmeal jumper, jeans, and boxers. He walked into the bathroom, gave himself a quick wash, then dried off. He rubbed his lotion all over his body and spritzed himself with the cologne. Both the lotion and cologne were specially prepared by Clara's family's chemist, based off a sample of John's DNA. The chemist had concocted a fragrance that was uniquely John's. 

John finished dressing, spiked up his hair, and neatly applied the eyeliner. Looking at himself in the mirror, he let out a deep breath and grinned. He was ready for these posh bloodsuckers.

******

The crowd eagerly anticipated John's arrival. None of them apart from Gregory and Mycroft had seen John dance. They never frequented the other clubs fearing it would damage their reputation. Well, there was one exception.

Mycroft's younger brother Sherlock sat on a couch utterly bored. He was only attending this show of wasteful extravagance because Mycroft threatened him from assisting Greg with any cases. He may have also been a tiny bit interested in tonight's entertainment after hearing whispered rumors about how mesmerizing the dancer was. Sherlock had attended the other clubs even though Mycroft disapproved, but he'd never seen John dance. He went mostly to drink the blood of junkies that were served at the bars, getting high off the tangy liquid. He had no interest in dancing or picking up the humans that were allowed in to be served up as thralls or donors.

A few minutes later Mycroft and Gregory appeared in the middle of the expansive hall. "Good evening. Thank you for attending what is one of most important nights for myself and Gregory. Fifty years ago today we became eternal partners," Mycroft regally announced.

There was polite applause. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

Tonight, as our entertainment, Gregory has chosen to have one of the best and popular Kine Dancers perform for us. Normally I would not host that type of variety, but I have seen this human in action and he is quite the spectacle, and this is my gift to Gregory. So without further adieu, we present to you, John Watson."

The lights suddenly went out and some vampires hummed in approval as dark places made them feel comfortable. There was sudden cloud of tension in the air, as everyone waited with bated breath to see the wunderkind that was setting the street clubs on fire.

Seconds later, A single spotlight suddenly lit up the center of the floor. John was kneeling, head down. The room was so silent if a pin dropped everyone could hear it.  The music started. A drum track, with deep, pulsing dark sounding synths followed. John quickly stood, hands in front of his face, fingernails painted black. A woman began to sing in a haunting monotone. John dramatically removed his hands. Some of the vampires gasped in arousal. With his black rimmed eyes, spiky blond hair, tanned muscular chest and abs showcasing his shiny silver dog tags, and the black cargo pants with studded belt draped low across his hips, the top of his red underwear peeking out, John looked like sinful pleasure.

Sherlock took notice of the handsome blond man and stood, moving closer to the dance floor. Mycroft saw him and smirked.

John began to move, wildly moving his arms, the lower half of his body swaying seductively to the hypnotic beat of the song. Sherlock immediately picked up the scent of his lotion and cologne. He'd never smelled anything like it. Then he realized it had been created especially for the dancer, and he smiled. This John was extremely clever.

Sherlock continued to deduce as he watched John drop to the floor, writhing sensually to the music, his golden skin developing a glistening sheen under the spotlight. He knew he was military and had either served in Afghanistan or Iraq. He was definitely not a professional dancer, so someone had talked him into doing this, most likely a friend or family member---a sibling. But he had been doing this long enough to hone his craft and he was extremely confident in performing in front of an audience. He also wasn't afraid of vampires. He'd gotten them to respect him to the point they wouldn't hurt him.

John continued to spin and sway, and Sherlock could hear him grunting, see the drops of sweat fly off his beautiful body. Sherlock wanted to taste his sweat, to breathe that intoxicating fragrance so that it was inside his own skin. 

John slowed his dancing down and gazed at Sherlock. He smirked, his tongue flicked out and licked his lips. Sherlock held back a moan. It was like the roles were reversed, John the predator and Sherlock the prey. Never had he been in front of a human this bold, this powerful. His body throbbed with desire. 

John noticed the gorgeous vampire with the ebony curls and sharp cheekbones staring at him, clad in a form-fitting expensive black suit so he decided to do some subtle flirting while he danced. It wasn't uncommon for him to do that, get up close to some of the vamps and dance in front of them and tease them, like a blond male Salome. He decided this tall, lithe creature would get a semi-personal performance tonight. He oh so teasingly moved his way towards the vampire, a hint of a smile on his face, mentally recording his reaction. He saw that beautiful full mouth open in surprise. John reached out and caressed one of his cheekbones, then swiftly moved back to the center to complete his dance.

The song ended with John in the same position he was at the beginning, yet he was breathing hard, his chest heaving after physically exerting himself for almost four and a half minutes. He knelt there, cooling himself down and calming himself down. This had to be his most demanding performance yet.

There was a few beats of silence, then the clapping started. John stood, wiping the sweat off his forehead, then bowed and smiled at the audience. He looked towards Sherlock, who wasn't clapping but gazed at him with a mixture of reverence and lust. He winked at him then turned to make his way towards Mycroft and Greg to thank them for inviting him into their domain.

Sherlock longingly watched him head for the back where the lounge rooms were. He wanted to follow, but something held him back. Mycroft saw his brother whisper something to Anthea, who nodded and walked in John's direction. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. What was Mycroft up to?

******

John was dressed back in his street clothes and was outside waiting for a taxi as he'd declined Mycroft's offer of a driver back to his flat, when a sleek black car pulled up in front of him. The driver side window rolled down and John saw the curly haired vampire he'd flirted with earlier smiling at him. "Taxi for John Watson?"

John tried not to gape at the sensual low voice that came from the man's mouth. "I didn't know you were a cabbie."

"I'm not. But wouldn't you rather ride with me? At least you won't have to pay," Sherlock purred.

"Not with money," John countered, dark blue eyes narrowing.

Sherlock frowned. "What do you mean by that? Oh wait---you think I'd bite you. I assure you I won't. I also know you can't be enthralled. I wouldn't even try that anyway. You're much too interesting to be a mindless slave."

"Wait, how did you know I can't be enthralled? And how will I know you won't bite me?" John asked, bewildered.

Sherlock grinned, blue-green eyes flashing. "Get in and you'll find out. Come on, I know you're thinking about it. A former Army captain with an addiction to danger? You can't resist."

John stood there, shocked at how he seemed to know all of this. But he was right. And getting into a car with a strange, although, gorgeous, vampire would classify as being dangerous. 

John grinned back and got in the car. "You know my name, so how about you tell me yours."

"It's Sherlock Holmes. Yes, I'm Mycroft's brother, unfortunately, but that's for another time."

John pursed his lips, then he smiled. Maybe an association with a prominent vampire family could be good for him. He looked at Sherlock. "Before you do anything else, you're going to tell me how you knew all of those things about me. Is it some kind of vampire power you have?"

Sherlock smirked. "I have no 'vampire power' as you put it. It's simple deduction."

"Okay then smart-ass, then explain your 'simple deduction'," John replied playfully, using air quotes.

So Sherlock explained. John said he was "amazing" and "brilliant." And by the end of the night, the dancer and the vampire might have also started to fall in love with each other. John said he'd never break his rule of getting involved with a vampire, but he was willing to risk it this time.

Chapter Text

The song the pair dance to is Ghosttown by Madonna. I think the song gives off major post S4 Johnlock vibes: https://youtu.be/pEcp2HlFBwE

They had been in quarantine for a week. One more week and they were supposed to "get back to normal," but a stay at home order was in place so the two knew they would be stuck inside for much longer. You could only leave for groceries, takeout, doctor's appointments, getting prescriptions, and taking short walks around the neighborhood.

John was working from home doing telemedicine. His old bedroom was turned into a makeshift office where for four hours a day, he would assess patients over the phone, prescribe meds, and reassure people that called in that their sniffles and sneezes were not Covid-19, but seasonal allergies. He was usually tired after finishing his shift and Sherlock was there to make sure he had a cup of hot tea and some biscuits on the table next to his chair. 

Sherlock meanwhile, assisted the Yard via Skype with cases and would also work on cold cases Lestrade would drop off to him. He also conducted experiments in his lab that used to be 221 C. John, with Mycroft's help, surprised the detective with it as a wedding gift. The two had married a year after the events at Sherrinford. Somehow, after all that nastiness, the two managed to get it together, both mentally, emotionally, and physically. They had a small outdoor ceremony at Sherlock's parents' house followed by a well-deserved honeymoon in Italy. 

Sherlock adopted little Rosie, and John officially had her name changed to Rosie Catherine Molly Watson-Holmes. He just couldn't have her saddled with Rosamund Mary. Not because of his late wife's secret past, he had loved her. But he was rebooting his life, he was starting with a fresh, clean slate, and part of that was giving Rosie a fresh start as well, but he didn't want to obliterate Mary's memory completely, so he made his baby's nickname her real first name. One day he would tell his daughter all about her mother.

******

Rain pounded against the windows of the flat. Sherlock stood looking out the window while playing his violin. It was eerie to see hardly anybody on the streets below. Rosie was teething and not feeling well which led to some bouts of crying and sniffling. Sherlock had begun to play some lullabies, which always soothed her. It had taken some time, but Rosie eventually calmed down and fell asleep. Rosie's crib was in John's office, so Sherlock had her in a Pack and Play in the living room. 

Sherlock stopped playing and turned to look at his daughter, who was snuggled under her bee blanket, eyes closed. He smiled and put his violin away, then sat in his chair, reaching for a book he started reading last night, a non-fiction detailed account about H.H. Holmes, deemed America's first serial killer. John had bought it for him, wondering if Sherlock was related (turns out he wasn't). Sherlock had heard of him, but didn't know the full extent of his crimes, and he was fascinated with learning exactly what he'd done.

A few minutes later, John emerged from his office. Sherlock saw him and smiled sweetly at his husband. He didn't look tired today, and had ear buds on which were plugged into his phone. He appeared to be in a good mood, humming a song.  John caught Sherlock's eye and returned his smile. He took his earbuds out and set his phone down on the coffee table. "Hey," he greeted softly.

"Everything okay?" Sherlock asked, a little hesitantly.

John walked over to peek at Rosie, grinning at her small, sleeping form. "She's asleep, great. You played for her." He looked back at his spouse. "I got a text from Sarah. Her husband doesn't have corona, it was just a cold that developed into bronchial asthma. He's got steroids and an inhaler, and is home resting."

"That's good," Sherlock replied. "I know how worried you were. This virus has so many on edge."

John snorted. "You got that right. But I only had two patients today who thought their allergies were corona. It's down from the ten I had the day I started telemedicine." 

Sherlock stood. "Ready for your tea and biscuits?"

John shook his head. "Not right now." He held out his hand to his husband, and Sherlock's eyes widened. "John, are you sure you want to have sex now, right after---"

John just chuckled. "No silly, although that can come later. I want you to dance with me."

Sherlock was puzzled, which was a rarity. "Dance? Why here, why now?"

John picked his phone up, unplugged the ear buds, and set it down inside the docking station on the mantle that had two speakers attached to the ends. "I was listening to this song by Madonna---I know you're not a fan of hers or anybody that makes music past the 19th century---" Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at that remark as he often criticized popular music and preferred classical. 

"Anyway, this song is beautiful and the lyrics spoke to me, they remind me of everything that's happened to us with that Sherrinford mess and after, and I wanted you to dance with me to it," John finished, turning to look at Sherlock with hope in his dark blue eyes. "So will you? Dance with me?" He held out his hand again.

Sherlock nodded. "I'd never turn down a chance to dance with my conductor of light," he whispered, going to John and softly kissing him. John ruffled Sherlock's curls, then queued up the song. The two embraced and began to move slowly and intimately as the music began.

John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "Things will get better I promise," Sherlock spoke tenderly into John's ear. "This virus will eventually dissipate, we'll both get back out to working, we'll solve cases, go to dinner at Angelo's, take our daughter to Regent's Park to watch the ducks. We won't be cooped up in this flat forever."

John gazed up at Sherlock. "I know. It's just so stressful, not being able to really go anywhere like we used to, and so many people are scared..."

"We'll get through it. It won't last forever." Sherlock kissed John and held him tighter.

"I love you," John said. 

"And I you," Sherlock replied.

They continued to dance, not saying a word, the only sounds being the rain outside, Rosie's soft sighs, and the music on John's phone echoing through the cozy flat. 

When the world gets cold
I'll be your cover
Let's just hold
Onto each other
When it all falls, when it all falls down
We'll be two souls in a ghosttown
When it all falls, when it all falls down
We'll be two souls in a ghosttown...