Fic - That One Time - Chapter Nine
Title: That One Time
Author: I Don't Know What I'm Doing
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humor. slash, crack, smut, and anything else I come up with along the way
Warnings/Kinks/Content - Possible mild kink in later chapters
Summary: A collection of random one-shots about Sherlock & John and their very not normal relationship.
I'm going to be taking a little break from this story for awhile.
I'll leave it as not complete and will add to it eventually but need a little vacation from it.
So thank you for reading these and thank you for all the lovely comments for the previous chapters.
Special thank you to Atlin Merrick for so many things. I promise another Drunk|Sherlock soon for you.
This isn't exactly how I planned this one to turn out but I heard the song - The Answer by Unkle, and I got an image in my mind I couldn't shake. I hope you enjoy it.
That one time, and only time Sherlock danced.
Sherlock is…
…arrogant, condescending, egotistical, impolite, inconsiderate, selfish...
These were the most common words people used when they felt the need describe Sherlock to John. And they almost always followed those descriptions with the question, 'Why do you put up with him?'
Watching him now, John knew exactly why he put up with him and also why he never gave an answer to that question. While the inconsiderate twit gave him a memorizing demonstration of why, after he'd had a selfish fit over John refusing to change the channel on the telly, John also knew exactly what word he would use to describe Sherlock.
Five minutes into the finales of Strictly Come Dancing, Sherlock started getting antsy. It's not as if he was watching it, choosing to read a book instead of 'subjecting himself to that mindless drivel', but apparently being able to hear it was enough to cause him undo agony. Ten minutes in and Sherlock decided a more hands-on approach was necessary to alleviate his misery. Hands-on being entirely literal after he wormed his body up behind John, who was lying on the couch. At fifteen minutes, the last five spent with John swatting away groping hands and bitty teeth, kicking off long legs trying to wrap around him, and shushing suggestive words moaned into his ear, Sherlock revised his methods with an exorbitant amount of egotistical whining.
"John this quite honestly is the worst thing you have ever made me watch."
"I'm not making you watch it."
"Please can we watch something else."
"No. It's the finals. Now shut it."
The intensity of his impolite moaning increased and it was his 'not getting my way' version of whining. "Pleeeeease."
"Christ Sherlock, two hours. You can't give me two hours to watch the final?"
Sherlock was silent for less than a minute before the selfish prat started again, wailing, "Oh god, please change the channel John. I can feel brain cells dying from watching this abomination of a television show." For added effect he somehow managed to thrash about in distress even though he was wedged between John and the couch. Apparently his body was dying along with his brain.
"Stop acting like a spoiled brat and shut up. I want to see who wins."
"If I tell you who's going to win can we watch sometime else?"
"Don't you dare!"
Full of condescension, he complained, "What you could possibly enjoy about this, it's just idiots dancing badly and other idiots telling them they danced badly."
"Because I like watching them dance. It's only two hours, hell, only an hour and a half now. Can you possibly just calm you shit for that long and let me watch this?"
Sherlock's arrogant voice stressed his anguish. "It's not humanly possible for me to 'calm my shit' if you insist on watching this."
This was beyond ridiculous however John knew of one trick to get the foolishness to stop. He didn't know why it worked but it always did. Sherlock might think he's exceptionally clever but he was easily bridled when given an ultimatum.
"Fine. I want to watch dancing, so I'll stop watching if you start dancing."
"You're not serious?"
"Very…Either you start dancing that sweet arse of yours or not another word." John quickly added, "And I don't mean a sodding lap dance." Sherlock got quiet after a pouty huff and finally there silence so John went back to watching the telly.
That is until something completely unexpected happened. Sherlock lightly kissed his neck and climbed out from behind him. He walked over the coffee table to the desk and grabbed John's laptop, bringing it back with him to set it on the table in front of John. He took a step back into the open area of the sitting room with a smile of triumph, "Select a song."
And now it was John that had to question, "You're not serious?"
"Very."
"You're really going to dance for me?"
"If it will get you turn off that abomination, then yes."
John moved to sit up and study Sherlock's face for any trace of this being a joke. His smile promised he was anything but joking. This was more than unexpected and unquestionable tantalizing. "Really?"
"Pick a song."
Before Sherlock could change his mind, John fumbled for the remote, turning off the telly. Whatever Sherlock had in mind, John guessed Sherlock planned some wanton strip tease and having never seen that limber body dance and before now assuming he never would, John was perfectly willing to never watch that show again if Sherlock asked.
Not wanting to take too long picking a song, he selected one at random, The Answer by Unkle. The sound on his laptop wasn't terribly good but as soon as it started, Sherlock closed his eyes and began his dance. There before him was his delightful Sherlock, barefoot in his pajama bottoms, a thin dark blue worn t-shirt and a sleek silk robe, lightly rocking his hips. It didn't become a strip tease; it became a vision of pure awe.
As the music went on, Sherlock's hips swayed more and his upper body moved slowly side to side to the beats. When the music picked up, his arms began swaying in rhythm, his hips rolling is graceful movements. Sherlock's arms slowly rose above his head, twisting to the rise and fall of the tune.
John had assumed this would be a performance, a sexual tease, a show of a dance to get what he wanted but Sherlock's movements, the way he undulated to the beats, his eyes still closed; he could see Sherlock getting lost in the moment. There was nothing sexual in his movements, just his tall, lissome body flowing to the music. John would never have imagined the controlled mind of his always thinking detective could let himself go so unchecked, no inhibitions at putting himself on display in such trance like state.
On he continued, body swaying, hip twisting, arms and hands flowing to the sounds, his willowy form serpentine and elegant. For four glorious minutes Sherlock danced.
Lovely, magnificent, divine, beautiful, heavenly, none of these could describe what he saw before him. He almost wept when the music faded to the end. Sherlock's graceful movements slowed with the waning music and when it stopped, he finally opened his eyes and came back to earth. A coy smile formed around the most precious blush John had ever seen.
John couldn't form words, he was at a complete loss from what he had just witnessed. The telly, the finale, whoever was going to win some foolish dance show all forgotten. The only thing he wanted at that moment was to get lost himself with this heavenly creature.
Sherlock is…arrogant, condescending, egotistical, impolite, inconsiderate, selfish...
But this … this uninhibited side of Sherlock, this was exactly why he put up with the spoiled brat, the man who could go from a whiny fit to this mesmerizing display in mere minutes.
As to John never answering people when they felt the need to ask him why, well this was the Sherlock only he knew, he couldn't and wouldn't ever try to explain it, it was his alone, his Sherlock.
And John knew exactly what word he would use to describe him...
Sherlock is sublime.