"Alright, now dip me."
"What?" John was finding it difficult enough keeping time, and not stepping on Sherlock's feet. How was he supposed to dip someone four inches taller than him, anyway?!
"You heard me. Spin me and then dip me like so." Sherlock gripped John's hand spun him out and pulled him back towards his chest.
"Whoa, Sherlock-"and pulled him back dipping him, making him feel-fuzzy.
"Now you try." John couldn't dance. Sherlock, as far as John could tell, loved it. Or at least was very good at it. He had taken John's ineptitude as a challenge and so here they were, practicing in an abandoned classroom; the setting of many of Sherlock's little experiments.
"Wait, wait. Let me get the hang of leading again, yeah?'"John still felt disorientated after being pushed backwards into the spin and basically manhandled into a dip. Is this the way girls felt? They usually giggled and John didn't feel like giggling exactly. John let his eyes fall to the floor. At least then he could watch what Sherlock was doing a little better.
"Well if you're going to lead try and look at me." Sherlock tugged John's chin up so he was looking into those dark, familiar eyes. That teasing smile, the one that didn't quite reach his mouth, was there. John sometimes fancied that he was the only one who could see it. He couldn't help but smirk back.
"I'm trying to keep from stepping on your trousers you bossy git, they're too bloody long."
"They were Mycroft's." Sherlock sighed. "They're too short for him now and they need to be hemmed."
"Why don't you just spell them, that's an easy one."
"Deleted it." Oh right, obviously.
If he'd said it once he'd said it a million times, for someone so smart Sherlock was such an idiot. What was the point of being a genius if you couldn't do simple tasks like hem your own trousers?
"Well I can-"
"No! You're doing too well to stop now. Once you relax properly, you aren't horrible. Just keep your eyes on me. Try spinning me and dipping me…-" John lifted his arm in the spin trying to get it over Sherlock's head, but stepping forward to soon and stepping on the trouser pant leg.
"Whoa whoa! Your bloody trousers…-"
"Hold on John, get off of me, I can't…-"
Both boys tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. John on top slipped his hand under Sherlock's head instinctively, cradling it before it hit the floor. And for a long moment they both lay chest to chest, so close John could feel Sherlock's breath on his face.
John's heart was beating so fast in his chest he could hear it like a base drum. Like he'd just run a marathon. Like he'd just kissed the most beautiful girl in the class.
Suddenly John realized where he was and who he was on top of.
"Oh Jesus- shit I'm sorry Sherlock let me help you up." It isn't civilized to just lie on your best friend in the middle of a classroom. What would people say?
"No it's fine I'm alright. If you could remove your hands from my hair that would be rather helpful."
"Oh yeah, right, Sorry." Shit. He was going to make this awkward. As if they hadn't had enough awkward moments lately with all of Sherlock's awful deductions in front of poor Daphne.
"No it's fine- I have some potions homework that needs to be seen to, I think our lessons are over."
"You'll do fine John. I'll see you." And he was out the door too quick for John to grab the back of his robes.
"We need to talk." But the words fell flat on the classroom floor.
What the hell was that? John had literally fallen into his arms and he- he ran away from him. He spent all that time coaching him, hoping to spend a little time with him before another girl took his John away again. When was he going to realize none of these girls were good enough for him? None of them were ever going to be good enough.
Sherlock quickly slipped back to the Ravenclaw common room. None of the students took any notice of him, to busy worrying about their own stupid little lives and there stupid little problems. Good. That meant no one was going to bother him.
He stalked up the stairs to his dorm room, stripped, and wrapped himself in his blankets and prepared for a long evening.
At some point he must have dozed off, because he had started to dream of John on his chest and this time he didn't lose his nerve. This time he just went to kiss him and John's mouth was so soft and warm. Dream John pulled away, calling his name and-
Someone was shaking him.
"What?" He shot up in bed. His eyes met Johns and he realized how naked he was and shoved himself back under the blankets. One of those stupid students in the common room must have let him in. He would find out who it was and they would be very sorry indeed.
"Sherlock, come on. Up."
He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart aching aching aching. "Oh go away John. I can't do this right now. Go away." It hurt too much.
"I'm not leaving. We need to talk about the yule ball. About what happened earlier." He wanted more lesson plans. Of course. Who cared about his silly drama queen of a best friend? Who cared if he was alright or not? Not John.
"Why aren't you with Daphne?"
"I ended it with her."
He cracked an eye open, looking through the folds of a sheet. "What? Why? I thought the whole point of teaching you to dance was to go to the yule ball with her."
John rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, "Sherlock stop pouting and get dressed, come on."
"Good-by John." He turned over. Maybe if he pretended John wasn't there he would go away. Not that that had a high success rate but it worked had a one in twenty-five times.
"We're going to be late if you don't hurry up."
He wasn't giving in this time.
"Put your clothes on."
"Just-Sherlock listen to me this one time!"
"You aren't saying anything interesting." Damn. One in twenty six then.
"You are so bloody difficult!"
He twisted around in his sheets facing John again, holding himself up on his elbow, "What is so important about the yule ball? There will be other dances John. Other girls besides that tedious Daphne."
"You can do much better than her anyway."
"Yes! That's what I'm trying to tell you!"
"Oh please. We've known these girls since we were eleven. If you could have found someone 'special' here you would have found them already." This was all so pointless. He wanted to be asleep again, kissing John not fighting with him. Sherlock laid his head back on the pillow.
"I don't want to find anyone else!"
"I'm not going to that stupid dance. Just because you're alone doesn't mean I'm going to follow you around all night and watch you make an arse out of yourself in front of bimbos."
"Sherlock." He almost sounded reasonable. But his jaw was twitching. No not reasonable. Not calm at all then. Nervous. And frustrated.
"I'm not going."
John took a deep breath "What I'm trying to say is, be my date tonight. We'll have fun, eat some fancy food, and maybe dance a little...you like dancing right?"
This couldn't possibly be happening.
"Or don't I mean."
Maybe he was still dreaming?
"We don't have to go."
But this didn't feel like a dream.
"I could just go."
How was he supposed to respond?
He saw the glossy sheen in John's eyes.
"Forget I said anything."
Abort! Abort! This was the wrong response! Target was walking away! Reaching for the door!
Sherlock leaped out of bed wrapped the sheets around his waist and sprinted towards John, grabbing his wrist.
He wasn't going to screw it up this time. No overthinking. No second thoughts.
Sherlock kissed him. And it was soft and warm just as he dreamed it would be. But awake he felt something set fire in his chest, something moved in his stomach. John reached up to cup his face and he suddenly felt like he'd come alive.
They broke apart but stayed close enough to easily kiss again, staring at each other with a new found sense of wonder.
"Wow" John mumbled breaking eye contact.
"Yes." Wow indeed.
"So, er, does that mean you'll go to the yule ball with me?"
Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "I wouldn't want all that dance practice to go to waste."