Okay. So this has been a LONG time coming. And it's not my best work. And it's actually kind of ridiculously hard to co-write a story. Who knew? Anywho…I had a lot of fun doing this with Briar Elwood. I hope you like and please review! :D

John stood in the middle of the dance floor enjoying the rhythm of the music in his slightly intoxicated state. The reception for Sally Donovan's wedding, now Sally Hammer, was going wonderfully. The ceremony had been nice, Sherlock had even behaved. He had been bored, John knew, but at least he had behaved.

When the song changed John made his way off the dance floor through all the party guests. He smiled as he made his way back to Sherlock who was sulking at their table. He wasn't about to let Sherlock's mood get him down. He threw himself into his chair and picked up his glass, draining it as quickly as he could.

"Oh come on, Sherlock. Don't tell me you're going to sit here all night. You're missing all the fun."

Sherlock made a noise John couldn't quite place. It was either a laugh or huff. "Fun? You call jumping up and down in the middle of a pile of sweaty, drunk idiots fun?"

John smiled and set his glass down. Sometimes he forgot how out of touch Sherlock was with John's world. "Yes. Fun. Interacting. Dancing. Fun."

Sherlock snorted and John knew he wasn't going to get anywhere.

"I don't see that as fun, John. Surely you should realize that would not appeal to me." He paused. "How much longer do we have to stay?"

"Not too much longer, Sherlock. But a bit." John smiled and looked back at the crowd. He really was enjoying himself. It was nice to get out and be around people. He hadn't felt right since Sherlock's return. As glad as he was to learn that Sherlock was, in fact, not dead, he couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal. Sherlock had never bothered to fully explain much of anything to John but keeping something like this back was more than John thought he could handle. But he tried to understand. He tried to take each new day with Sherlock one step at a time and be as understanding as he used to be. Each day it got a little bit easier, though he still snapped at Sherlock more than usual.

The changing pace of the music brought John out of his thoughts and he looked over at Sherlock. Perhaps a slow song was more Sherlock's speed. There were plenty of girls at the reception alone that probably wouldn't know better than to agree to one dance with Sherlock. And the dances weren't so long that they would have too much time to regret their decision. Besides, Sherlock was doing better at social interaction, lately.

"It's a slow song." It came out sounding kind of lame but John thought Sherlock might get the hint.

"Are you asking me to dance?"

This reaction startled John and he looked down. He could feel himself turning a nice shade of red and tried to laugh it off. But Sherlock was standing up and offering his hand to John. He looked up in shock but took the hand. In almost no time at all for Sherlock had whisked John onto the dance floor, placing his hand on John's hip and taking the lead.

"Um. Sherlock?"

Sherlock laughed lightly. "Yes, John?"

"Why is your hand…there?"

Sherlock laughed again. "Because I'm leading. Naturally."

"Why should you lead? I'm a perfectly good dancer. And I obviously enjoy it more. I should lead." John was vainly trying to maintain some sort of dignity in the situation.

"I'm taller. It would be awkward for you, as the shorter man, to lead." The look on Sherlock's face said he wasn't going to give in. It also said he was amused at John's dismay.

John sighed, only slightly annoyed, and moved Sherlock's hand only to have Sherlock's long fingers wrap around his wrist. Sherlock placed John's hand on his shoulder before returning his hand to John's waist.

"This isn't up for negotiations, John."

John frowned. "Fine."

As they fell into a rhythm John found himself looking at Sherlock's chest, at his arms, and occasionally over his shoulder, but never at the man himself, and certainly not at the couples around them. Between them there was only silence.

"These lyrics make no sense." Sherlock said suddenly.

"They make sense just fine, Sherlock. Stop over analyzing."

"'I have died every day waiting for you'?" Sherlock said, obviously refusing to let it go. "'I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand more'? How does that even begin to make sense, John?"

"It's not literal, Sherlock. Obviously." John began quietly. "It's the feel of it. Dying every day. Feeling as though it's been a thousand years, like it might as well be forever." John was now staring at Sherlock. He knew Sherlock didn't get it. But he had to try. Somehow it was important that Sherlock understand. "Knowing that the feeling won't end. Not for as long as it's been going on. For a thousand years. For ever. And time doesn't matter." He paused, trying to suppress the emotions clawing to get out. "It's not meant to be logical." He added quietly, finally looking away.

For a few agonizing seconds there was nothing. No reaction. John actually felt a bit panicky. Then Sherlock's grip on John tightened and he gasped quietly as Sherlock pulled him just the smallest bit closer. John wondered if he should pull away. It wasn't that he wanted to get away from Sherlock, but he was still angry, still hurt, and still uncertain of where they stood.

But John didn't pull away. He knew he couldn't. He had been like a zombie after Sherlock's death and as angry as he was he needed Sherlock. He had missed the infuriating man in front of him. And he was tired of pretending that he didn't need Sherlock. Every day was a question at 221B Baker Street and John knew he couldn't keep going like that. Instead he found himself slowly closing the distance between them. When he was close enough he rested his head in the crook of Sherlock's neck. He couldn't say it. He didn't really know how. But he hoped that Sherlock would somehow understand what he meant.

As the song began to end John shifted in Sherlock's arms, suddenly aware of how this all must look and wondering if Sherlock would understand what he was trying to say. The fear that he wouldn't was the most uncomfortable part, especially when Sherlock let go of him suddenly. John took a step back and looked at Sherlock awkwardly. His ears felt like they were on fire as he searched Sherlock's face for any clue as to what might be going through his head.

John was surprised to find that Sherlock looked as nervous as John felt. But more that that, he looked as though he needed John. Like he didn't want him to walk away. John barely had time to register this new information before the song changed and Sherlock broke into the biggest smile John had seen in a long time. It sounded like swing but John wasn't sure why that was so significant. And then Sherlock's hand was reaching out to him again.

"Dance with me." It was a statement. Not a request. And then John understood. And he smiled.