I don't make any money with this. Sherlock and John belong to Steven Moffat and Mark Gattis.
May I have a piece of Benedict Cumberbatch though?

And here is piece two. Unfortunately my John and Sherlock… ehh, are completely out of character. My apologies, again. But I like them like this, to be honest.
Do enjoy some more fluff before the end tonight.
Love,
sukie

Dance with me

"Dance with me."
"Pardon?"
"Dance with me, John."
Alright, the demand remained the same.
Dr. John Watson looked up in confusion and watched his best friend pace through their living room.
He knew Sherlock's weird moments. He knew about his various experiments (even though he seriously didn't want to know about all of them). But 'Dance with me' was something so utterly unexpected that it left him speechless.
"Why would you want that, Sherlock?"
"Because it helps me to think."
John rolled his eyes. Yeah, right.
"I never figured you were one for dancing. How come?"
"John, I really don't want to analyze it. I just want to dance with you." And with that, his best friend grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet and into an embrace. Weird. John couldn't remember if they had ever really hugged before.
"Uhm, Sherlock. Music?"
The detective looked down at him and began to hum an unfamiliar melody to which he slowly moved John through the room in circles. He had never been a great dancer so he was happy enough that Sherlock seemed to know where to put his hands and what to do with his feet.
They kept moving around the room and looked at each other every now and again.
"What do you need to think about?", John asked in a whisper.
"Feelings."
"Feelings are a matter of the heart. You always claim to have none."
When John looked up again he could have sworn that pain washed over his best friend's face.
"I mean..."
"No, actually you are right, John. But I might have been mistaken after all. Maybe I do have a heart."
"Oh really? Then what are these feelings that you need to think about?"
By now Sherlock led him in a slow waltz through the room. They were closer than necessary but John didn't mind. He had to admit that he liked being that close to his best friend. He liked feeling his breath whisper over his skin and to feel the light pressure of his hand on the small of his back.
"I don't know, John. They confuse me. That's exactly why I need to think about them."
They remained silent for a few moments before John dared to ask his next question.
"Maybe I can help you? Somehow?"
He didn't want to be left outside right now, he desperately needed to know what was going on inside this unique head. Sherlock let out a heavy sigh.
"Alright, but this is strictly confident. I... Well, whenever I am near this...this person, I have trouble breathing properly. Or thinking straight. I can't concentrate. I want to... hold this person. Just be closer. I... I want to... want to...," but he seemed unable to finish his sentence.
"Kiss her, maybe?" John tried to help.
Sherlock shook his head. "No, not necessarily. Not yet."
This made John smile in affection. Oh, his Sherlock was so precious. He knew that his friend hadn't been in a relationship before. Maybe he had been too occupied by his own mind till now. Or maybe the right person had just taken a little longer to cross his path. He felt his heart break a little. If only... yes, if only.
"What else, Sherlock?"
"I want to talk a walk along the river. Hold hands. Have dinner. And every other meal. Feel the hair of...,"
"Don't you want to tell me the name?"
But no, Sherlock meant to leave him in the dark. Alright, he didn't want to share.
"Do you think that... that person feels the same, John?"
This question was so innocent, so pleading that he felt a little like hugging his best friend.
"Well, obviously I don't know who you are talking about, but I think you stand a very fair chance. You are very handsome, you are smarter than anyone I know, and if you put that arrogance of your's aside, you can be absolutely adorable." Sherlock stared at him with wide eyes.
At first, John thought he had offended him with the last part, but then he noticed the tiny blush on his beautiful cheeks.
"And obviously there's a little romantic hiding inside you as well. Who could say no to you then, hm?"
No one, absolutely no one, he thought to himself.
"And how long have you been feeling that way?"
„Long. Years."
„Oh dear. And you have pushed it from you all this time? Why?"
As much as John wanted for Sherlock to feel that way for him, he was concerned now.
"Because… because I don't think that this person feels the same about me, John."
When John looked up into this handsome face again he gasped. Tears were shining in his friend's eyes.
"Oh dear.", he whispered and placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder.
"I am absolutely convinced that this person feels the same. How could she now? Hm?"
They picked up their slow dancing again.
"I am very proud of you, you know.", said John after a while.
"What do you mean?"
"You talked about your feelings. You never do that and I know that it must be very difficult for you, especially about something so intimate. Thank you for trusting me, Sherlock."
His friend stared at him in wonder.
"You are my best friend, John. My only friend. I may take my time sometimes, but in the end, I want to share everything with you."
"Sherlock, if only you can plug up enough courage to talk to your special person. Tell her what how you feel. Tell her all the things you told me. All these beautiful things. There's no way she wouldn't want to be with you."
"He.", Sherlock whispered.
"Well, he then. I don't care." John smiled at him in what he hoped to be an encouraging manner.

The tall man took two steps back and sighed. Then he nodded. Without another word or glance backwards he left the room, only to return a few moments later.
"John?" he asked, as if the prior conversation hadn't taken place at all.
"Yes?"
"I want to talk to you about something… something important."
"More important things?", he asked.
"No, this is the only important thing. I… When you moved in with me four years ago, I fell in love with you. With you and your smile and the sounds you make in the kitchen and your smell and your eyes and with how short you are and your little hands and all your expressions. And with the fact that I can be myself when I am around you. You let me be who I am, and don't force me to change. And I love every little thing about you and your character."
John couldn't close his mouth, he just couldn't.
No, this was definitely not happening. Couldn't be.
"Even when you hate me for my laziness and arrogance, you stay and I love you for that. And I want to change for you. I want to be better than that. I want to be the person you deserve to be with."
"Oh,oh." John coughed and tried desperately to hide his tears.
"Oh no. I made you cry. I did it wrong, didn't I? I am so sorry, John. I… I thought…"
Sherlock backed away.
"No,no, stay, Sherlock, please." John reached out for his best friend. His heart felt like it would burst any moment. "I'm not sad. I'm happy. So so happy."
A little sob escaped his lips, and another, and another.
"Can you please stop crying, John?"
He shook his head. "Can't. Too happy."
A tiny laugh escaped Sherlock's lips and he bent down and placed his lips tenderly on John's cheek to catch his tears, which, of course, made John cry even more. "I love you, John Watson."
John couldn't repeat the words. He was speechless and could only look at his friend.
They kept looking at each other for the next few minutes until Sherlock finally found his voice again.
"May I kiss you, John?"
John nodded and closed his eyes. And when Sherlock's lips touched his, all fell into place. This was how things should be. Their fingers intertwined and somehow Sherlock managed to pull him even closer. His lips were warm and soft and full and perfect, and his tongue was curious and careful and just the tiniest bit hesitant.
"Oh Sherlock.", John said as they broke the kiss. His hands cupped the taller man's cheeks. "My wonderful, precious Sherlock."
Sherlock locked his arms behind John's back in a tight embrace.
"Dance with me, Sherlock."