And here I am again, breaking my rule and starting yet another fanfic before finishing the ones I am writing on....

-John-

John Watson is sitting in his armchair at 221b Bakerstreet, sipping from a hot cup of tea and reading the first page of the news paper when Sherlock waltzes through the room towards the door. He grabs his black coat and is clearly on the way out. John glances at the window and sees the snowflakes swirl in the harsh wind.

"You're going out?" He asks doubtfully, putting down his cup on the small table next to his chair.

"Yep." Is the only answer he gets. No explanation why he's going out in this weather. John is sure that there isn't a case, in this cold not even the criminals want to go out and Sherlock would have mentioned if there was a case.

The door closes with a thud and John can hear quick footsteps walking down the stairs. John thinks nothing of it anyways and grabs his teacup to take another cup. Who knows what Sherlock is up to, he might be taking a walk?

Sherlock isn't seen again until hours later, when he comes home just in time for dinner. His cheeks are rosy from the wind and he has snow in his hair and coat. During dinner he isn't mentioning anything about where he has been or what he has done. Usually he tells John everything but not today. John lets it go, it's nothing to really think about.

---

Over the next few weeks Sherlock disappears quite frequently, both during day and night, he never mentions anything about it, and neither does John. It's like it's not happening even though John is clearly noticing and wondering what he's doing and Sherlock of course knows that John is noticing because he's Sherlock and knows everything.

Days pass and John is contemplating whether to ask Sherlock about it or not, he doesn't want to pry on Sherlock's private life but what if he's doing something dangerous? What if the next time he goes out he doesn't come back home again? John keep telling himself that it's no use worrying, if it was dangerous he'd tell John, right?

One night John hears Sherlock leaving their flat and he can't understand what would possibly want Sherlock to go outside in this weather? On the news this morning they said it was one of the coldest days in years, and it's almost the middle of the night so it's terribly cold and dark outside.

Now if you'd ask John in the morning he wouldn't have an answer for why he decided to do what he did. But he found himself grabbing his own coat and silently following Sherlock through the darkness. He followed the dark shape through the snow and was careful not to step on the icy places of the pavement, it was a real challenge since new snow has laid a thin layer over the slippery places.

John didn't have to be out in the cold very long because Sherlock suddenly stopped under a street light and rummaged through his pockets for something. After a second John heard a clinking sound and he assumed that Sherlock now held in some keys. His assumption was right, Sherlock turned to the dark building and unlocked a door. He disappeared through it and left John to wonder what business he had in there.

He hastily wondered if he should turn back and go home again; surely it wasn't right of him to follow Sherlock like this, but his curiosity took over and he stepped up to the dark orange-brow door and felt the handle. It was locked. The window next to it was blocked by something that he assumed was a plywood board so he couldn't see in.

He then decided that he was better to go home and get some sleep instead of standing here and freezing to death.

The next morning he awoke to the sound of the door being opened and closed at 5 am and when he peered out from his bedroom he saw Sherlock yawning and then heard him going to bed.

---

It went like that several other times. Sherlock seemed to go out more during the night now, probably to not make John worry where he was going, thinking that John wouldn't notice when he was leaving if he left during the time when John usually slept. Which John of course didn't.

He actually went after Sherlock a few times but every time Sherlock went to the same place and the door was always locked. John had googled the house number several times and found out that it used to be a night club but wasn't used at all anymore. Sherlock must have bought it or either gotten a key to there somehow.

But he couldn't figure out what Sherlock was actually doing in there which made him clearly over think what was going on. Did Sherlock do drugs again? He'd been clean for the last six months as far as John knew. Did Sherlock meet a woman there? That thought always made something in John stomach churn. A feeling that he always ignored and pushed down deeper to hopefully never see the light of the day.

John now had decided that he wanted to ask Sherlock where he was off to all the time but since Sherlock only went put during the night now, thinking John didn't notice, he hadn't a good reason to ask and John wasn't supposed to know. And he didn't want to come up with an untrue reason why he knew he was up all night because you can't easily lie to Sherlock Holmes.

John was probably the only one who could lie to him without Sherlock knowing, but having Sherlock trusting him so much that he didn't think John was going to lie to him wasn't something he'd ever want to use against him.

---

One day when they where having lunch at Saint Barts Hospital John did decide to ask.

"Did you go out yesterday? I thought I heard someone leaving the flat when I was going to the bathroom." He asked. This wasn't a lie, John had accidentally fallen asleep before Sherlock had left last night but woke up and needed to pee just when Sherlock decided to leave.

"Yes, I couldn't sleep." Sherlock answered as he finished his plate with spaghetti. He didn't elaborate his response though so that didn't help John much at all. He left the lunch table with just as many questions unanswered and followed Sherlock back to his experiment.

---

The next night John decided to go after Sherlock again. Not knowing what made him think tonight would be any different to the other evenings. John was happy that it was now almost Mars and it wasn't as cold outside anymore.

Once or twice Sherlock stopped on his way there, standing still for a couple of seconds, listening for sounds in the dark. The only sounds to be heard was the occasional cars or busses who drove through the night, or the beating sound of music from a bar a couple of blocks away.

John followed a couple of metres behind, happy that it wasn't as much ice on the road now. His mind flashes back to the time he actually slipped and fell on his arse in the snow. Luckily he hadn't been discovered.

This time when John felt the door handle he observed, to his delight, that the door was left unlocked and he opened it slowly.

He peered through the door and was met with a small hallway with two doors. The first one led to the room that had the barricaded window. It was almost empty and the light was broken. It must have served as a storage room when the club was still  used because one of the walls was covered in shelves, now dusty and empty of what had fulled them years prior. He closed the door to the room, this wasn't where Sherlock had gone. John was just about to open the other door when he heard something.

Music. The low sound of a violin flowed through the building and John's hand stopped, just a few centimeters from the door handle. His hand lowered.

Did Sherlock go here to practice his violin skills? No, John didn't think so. He had heard Sherlock play numerous times at the flat, he didn't care if anyone heard him play. John let his fallen hand up to the door handle again and pressed it down, opening the door so he could look through a small crack.

It took a while before he saw Sherlock, the room was quite big and there are many small, round tables on the floor with chairs standing on them. Everything seems to be cleaner in here. There's less dust. A light is on in the middle of the room, cascading blue, violet and red light down o the floor in the middle of the room. All the tables seem to be placed in a kind off circle around the floor, leaving a big open space, which once has been a dance floor.

His eyes falls on Sherlock who is standing there, no he's moving around and for a second John is sacred that he's coming towards him but then he notices that Sherlock is dancing.

He remembers Sherlock mentioning that he loves dancing but he never knew how good he was at it. He moves along with the music and it's mesmerising to watch. John doesn't know much about dancing but Sherlock is clearly very talented.

Sherlock hasn't opened his eyes even once since John started watching him dance. But now he stood still and opened his eyes and met John's.

"You know you can come in and sit down instead of just standing there." Sherlock hummed, the shadow of a smile on his lips. John stepped fully into the room and closed the door. What had he been thinking. Of course you can't follow Sherlock Holmes without him knowing. And of course Sherlock wouldn't forget to lock the door, he left it unlocked for John.

John suddenly felt a little embarrassed over having followed Sherlock and spied on him while he danced but his thoughts were interrupted by Sherlock.

"Curiosity is a powerful thing John Watson." He said. After a few seconds of silence a new song started playing and he continued dancing, not bothering to see if John had sat down. Which John did after a while.

After two other songs with no other words uttered between them Sherlock stopped dancing and held his hand out to John.

"Dance with me?" He smirked as if he was challenging John.

"No one's watching us." He continued. John's cheeks went a bit pink. 'No one's watching us.' A sentence that made John shiver a bit and he cursed himself for it. A sentence with too many possibilities. On 221b they are never really alone, a client or mrs Hudson can come in any time. But here... 'no one is watching them.'

Sherlock seemed to notice John's doubt.

"Come on, it's fun." He urged.

"I-I can't dance." John finally answered but Sherlock only chuckled.

"I'll teach you." There was a clear tone of genuinely wanting to dance with John, and something else, something else that John couldn't quite put words to.

"Alright then," He answered while shaking his head a bit, was he really doing this? "Teach me."

And he took Sherlock's hand and was pulled up on the dance floor. Sherlock showed where John should put his hands and then slowly started to move, telling John which steps to take and how to move along with the music.

John accidentally stepped on Sherlock's toes a couple of times more than he'd like to admit but Sherlock only urged him to continue. It surprised John how much he enjoyed dancing, he had never before shown an interest to dance but with Sherlock it was fun, it was easy.

If time passed they didn't notice since they were caught up in the moment and only had eyes for each other and ears for the music. There are no windows so they could not see if the sky started to change colors and no one could see them.

After a few songs John would like to say that he had improved somewhat at dancing and that he wasn't hopeless at it. Even though he did realise while his hands where on Sherlocks waist and Sherlock's hands on him that it was quite hopeless to deny the feelings that he for so long had pretended didn't exist.

And they where dancing through the night, along with the music and somewhere in the middle of it all it became more than that. Their hands touched more delicate and their eyes meeting in silent awareness, finally understanding each other fully.

A moment passed and then another, somewhere in between seconds their lips met and unspoken words no longer needed to be said.

Written: 20th June 2017
Published: 22th August 2017
Words: 2221

Damn I've missed writing fanfiction. It's finally summer and school has given my motivation back. *already crying and stressing because summer will end in like 8-9 weeks*