Put yourself in scenarios with your favorite Doctor Who and Sherlock characters. Comment any requests, I can do mash ups with multiple fandoms. I can also do preferences!
I don't own any of these characters, this is just for entertainment reasons.
R...
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All works and quotes by Shakespeare are Shakespeare's and Shakespeare's alone.
"You're going to want to dress well tonight," the Doctor said. He stopped working on the control panel to face you.
You raised an eyebrow. "May I ask for what occasion?"
"An 18th Century themed ball," he announced proudly. "All guests are required to wear fashions of that era from Earth."
"What do you mean 'from Earth'?"
"Well, it's on Aelea, of course! This planet is most known for its fantastic balls and welcoming spirit. This, however, is a ball by invitation only." He held up a ticket in front of him, grinning cheekily behind it. "Who better to take as my 'plus one' than you?"
You smiled excitedly and rushed over to the Doctor, pulling him into your embrace. "I better change then, don't you think?"
As if the TARDIS were listening to you, the doors to the closet opened. You dashed off to find an 18th century outfit in your size.
The dancers moved like water transformed by music. People of all species and genders flowed in graceful arcs, limbs always in motion. They painted wordless interpretations of the beat that anyone, no matter what language they spoke, would be able to understand.
"Wow," you breathed. You watched as the dresses swished with each spin. The walls trimmed with gold glittered in the candle light. A diamond chandelier hung in the center. The marble floors were so clean you could see your reflection in it. The ceiling was painted with art from the 18th century. It felt like you had just walked into a bigger version of Versailles.
"I know," the Doctor agreed. He took your hand and led you closer to the live orchestra. The Time Lord had changed out of his usual leather jacket and black slacks into something much fancier: a long, black tailcoat. His waistcoat, however, was red and he was wearing a ruffled white shirt underneath.
You were wearing a long, 'Victorian Gothic' style of dress that was red and black. The Doctor had insisted on doing your hair and make up.
The music changed to something slower. The Doctor bowed in front of you. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
"You may." You extended your hand for him to take. The Doctor guided you towards the end of the dance floor, in front of a large window that showed countless of glittering stars outside.
"Put your hand on my shoulder," the Doctor whispered as the music was about to start. You hastily placed your palm on his right shoulder. His hand rested itself on your shoulder-blade. He entwined his fingers of his opposite hand with yours and lifted them up so they were about level with your chins.
"I don't know how to dance," you admitted nervously. "Not in the 18th century style, anyways."
"It's good that you have a partner that does- Just mirror my moves; I step forwards, you step back. This position is a little modern, considering that dancers were not supposed to be this close unless they were married... Just think of it as the waltz."
"Okay." You smiled.
The first note of the new song drifted into the air. The Doctor immediately took a step forward, as did most of the partners, but you weren't expecting that. You stumbled backwards, eyes going wide with shock. "Sorry."
The Doctor didn't respond, he just stepped to the left then back. However, you stepped with the wrong foot and ended up on his toes. "Sorry!"
"Relax," he murmured. "It's just simple box steps. Imagine our feet are making an invisible square on the floor and keep time in your head."
He stepped forwards again and pushed you back lightly. Then to the side and back to the beginning. Then he repeated himself.
You bit your lip in a habit of concentration. It was hard to look down at your feet with your big skirt, so you just had to trust the Doctor.
You were moving in sync now. Your dress swished with every movement and you were now more afraid of the Doctor stepping on it, yet the Doctor danced like he had been doing it for countless years- which he probably had.
"So you like dancing," you said, hoping to start a conversation. You met his gaze.
"I do." He smiled. He started adding more movement to your steps. Instead of moving in the same box, you were now twirling around the ballroom. You barely noticed though, you were just glad that you didn't break the pattern and mess up the dance. "You're doing quite well, if I may add."
"Why thank you, kind sir!" You blushed and relaxed into his arms. "You certainly are a formidable partner."
"Just formidable?" he gasped in mock horror.
"I'm just trying to sound like they do on Downton Abbey."
"Wrong century," the Doctor chuckled.
"Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name-" You sighed dramatically. The Doctor laughed a merry laugh. "Is that better?"
"I believe that's Shakespeare, not 'better'."
"Shut up!"
You two were now attracting the attention of other guests, who looked at you with confused and and annoyed expressions. You rolled your eyes and looked back at the Doctor. As the song went on, the warmth between you grew more powerful. It honestly felt like something from a fairy tale.
Even when the music stopped, you continued to dance and spin. The candles flickered as you passed and your dark dressed billowed out. The Doctor moved his hand down to the small of your back.
You loved every bit of dancing with the Doctor. You didn't care that people stared.
By the end of the night you had danced to many songs and with many people. Your heart was light, but your feet ached. You walked back to the TARDIS with the Doctor, chatting amicably about your favorite books.
"The fifth Harry Potter book, oh I cried."
"Don't spoil it! I'm only on the third!"
"I can't imagine what the seventh would do to me-"
"Doctor!" You laughed.
You had reached your room and stopped outside the door. "I had a great time tonight, Doctor. Thank you for bringing me."
"No problem."
"O here, will I set up my [not so] everlasting rest." You spoke with an overly dramatic cockney accent.
"True, I talk of dreams, which are children of an idle brain, begot of nothing but vain fantasy. Goodnight, Y/n."
"Goodnight." You kissed his cheek then disappeared into your room.
"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."
