Another Teenlock but I tried to keep this one away from school.
Sherlock was on his way home from ballet practice, kicking chunks of snow as he sauntered down the pavement. He shivered in the chilly January air and watched as his warm breath became visible when he exhaled. Thankfully the Holmes house was only a few blocks away from the studio because his jacket and boots didn't help warm his thin frame clad in tights. The curly haired boy absentmindedly hummed a tune the class had danced to as he turned the corner onto his street. Shortly Sherlock stepped onto the porch gently illuminated by an outdoor light and kicked the snow off his boots. He opened the heavy door and was hit by a comforting wave of heat.
The teen sighed on his way to his room before shedding his dance attire and running a warm bath. Practice had been vigorous because there was a competition coming up in a few weeks and while Sherlock was an excellent dancer, he was quite sore from the exuberant exercise. Although he was sore, he was still quite excited for the upcoming practice in two days. Once in the bath, he let his mind drift into his mind palace and began deleting the events from the day he didn't need. The first memory to go was that of Mycroft waking him this morning with a cup of water to the face. His brother claimed Sherlock was sleeping too hard and couldn't be woken any other way, but it was an obvious lie.
After decluttering his palace, Sherlock dried off and got ready for bed. His mother knocked on the door to say goodnight, but Sherlock rolled his eyes and ignored her.
...
The next two days were full of the usual winter break boredom. By five o'clock, Sherlock was practically buzzing with anticipation for his next dance rehearsal. It was the only stimulating activity he had to look forward to over his last week of break. He had quickly thrown his tights and loose gray shirt on and bounded out the door with a brief goodbye to his parents. Somehow in his excitement, he had forgotten to grab a coat and didn't realize it until halfway to the studio. It wasn't until a particularly chilly wind gust blew and the boy gasped when the air hit his pale skin. Sherlock simply shrugged and picked up his pace. It would be pointless to go back to get one when he was almost at his destination. The last block he jogged over the snowy sidewalks when the cold became too much and breathed in the warmth of the dance studio.
Sherlock nodded to his dance instructor who was standing at the door of the classroom on his way to put his bag in his cubby. He pulled out his black slippers and began tying them around his ankles.
"Hey, Sherlock!" A cheerful girl's voice rang through the air. "How ya doing?"
He lifted his curly head to meet the eyes of the girl grinning before him. He resisted a grimace when seeing Harriet settling on the floor beside him.
"Fine," Sherlock muttered. He returned his focus to his feet and then started to stretch out his limbs.
"Hey, so I know you can do that deducing thing or whatnot, and I was wondering if you could tell if any of these girls are like into girls?" Harriet's blonde pony tail bobbed as she bluntly asked her question.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. He decided to humor the girl, for she was one of the least annoying in the class. "Hmm, I've noticed that girl's gaze, what's-her-name, lingers on everyone's legs and asses when dancing so she's your best bet," he spoke while subtly pointing to a curvy brunette across the room.
"Oh my God!" Harriet squealed. "That's Clara and she's like so hot. I've had a thing for her since she started here a few months ago."
This time Sherlock did nothing to hide his discontentment. "Do calm yourself, Harriet. You sound like someone being murdered."
"Hey if there was another guy in this class you would feel the same way!" She defended with her arms crossed. "And I've told you a million times, it's Harry not Harriet.
A scoff escaped Sherlock's full lips, "'If a guy was in this class', what the hell does that mean?"
Harry shifted to stand and head to the barre. "I know you're gay. And no it's not because you're in ballet, I hate stereotypes. I just have seen how you look at us girls with disgust but whenever some guy enters the building you focus on him a bit." She giggled at the blush that had settled on the tall boy's sharp cheekbones. "It really isn't that hard to figure out." She quieted for a bit while they continued stretching at the barre next to each other. "You know," she started, "I have an older brother who's going to be picking me up today and he's Bi."
Sherlock felt his blush deepen and glared at the back of Harriet's head. "No Harry. If your brother is anything like you I wouldn't be able to stand him." Harry laughed and turned around to smack Sherlock on the shoulder.
"Oh, come on," She giggled. "I know you like me. And I think you're pretty cool too... And I'm sure John would think the same." Harry's teasing was put to an end when their instructor began the lesson.
Sherlock rolled his eyes before immersing himself in the lesson. He loved ballet because could get lost in the music and calculated movements rather than feeling overwhelmed by his overactive mind. The lean boy lifted his limbs in clean lines and deliberate motions. His heartbeat picked up with the physical exertion, and Sherlock grinned at the familiar feeling. It was almost like getting an adrenaline rush or getting high.
All too soon the two hour class ended and Sherlock gracefully plopped down on the hardwood floor to remove his slippers. As he scanned the room with his calculating eyes, he noticed Harry talking to the girl from earlier. A smirk pulled at his full pink lips and he caught eye contact with Harry. She subtly winked at him before returning her attention to the girl in front of her. Once his ballet slippers were removed, Sherlock stood and gathered his belongings from the cubby. He quietly groaned to himself when he remembered he forgot a jacket. It was even colder now that the sun was down and he was not looking forward to the walk home. Sherlock shook his curly head and decided it would be best to get home as soon as possible, before the temperature dropped even more. As he pulled open the door to leave, a body slammed into his.
"Oof," Sherlock heard the person mutter. The pale boy took a step back to reprimand the person in front of him but paused when he took in the form of the boy before him. "Oh, hey, sorry about that," the boy with sandy blond hair and steel blue eyes apologized as he rubbed the back of his tan neck.
"Oh," Sherlock breathed. "It's alright. No harm done." He moved off to the side so the shorter teen could enter the building.
"Have you seen Harry?" The boy asked while glancing around the room. "She's supposed to come out to the car but she's taking ages."
"I- I think she's talking to one of the girls from class," Sherlock muttered while looking at his feet clad in black converse.
"Ugh, thanks man. I'll just have to wait," Harry's brother groaned before shooting a smile in Sherlock's direction, making the dark haired boy duck his head to hide his blush.
Sherlock moved past the boy to the door when his soft but deep voice stopped him. "Hey, you're not going out in just that are you? It's like ten degrees out (A/N: sorry I'm an odd American so we don't use Celsius. It's just really cold out)!" John exclaimed with a look of concern.
"Well, I forgot my coat at home. But it's just a short walk to my house so it's not a problem," the tall teen bit his lip and shuffled on his feet.
John didn't seem pleased with his answer. "I can just drive you home, I have to get Harry anyway. I wouldn't want to leave a cute boy freezing on the curb," he added with a smirk.
Sherlock's face blossomed in red and he bit the inside of his cheek. "Um, I don't think my parents would like that. They're expecting me to walk and don't like me to get into cars with strangers."
The short but muscular boy laughed at that. "Alright, whatever you think is best. But here," he paused and began unzipping his winter coat. "At least take my hoodie, I don't need it." Sherlock started to protest but his breath caught in his throat when John lifted the hem of his navy hoodie and the shirt underneath rode up to show his tan, muscular abdomen spotted with stands of honey blond hair. Sherlock's stomach fluttered and his flush spread to his ears and neck. "Here," John pushed his hoodie into Sherlock's pale hands before putting his coat back on.
"Um," Sherlock stuttered as he felt the warmth from John's body leave the hoodie and seep into his skin. "T-thanks but you don't have to."
"It's really fine. I don't need it and you can just give it back after your next class," John reassured the fumbling boy with a smooth smile. His attention was ripped from Sherlock when Harry came skipping out of the dance studio. "What took you so long?" John rolled his eyes and sighed upon seeing his younger sister.
Harry scoffed and laughed. "I was trying to get with a girl and I can see that in this short time we were both successful," She said with a pointed glance at the hoodie in Sherlock's grasp.
The boy in question stuttered and fought against the ever growing blush on his cheeks. "Um, no that's not what's going on..."
John playfully slapped Harry's shoulder, "I'm just lending him my hoodie so he doesn't freeze." Sherlock's eyes caught on the faint tinge of pink on the other boy's chubby cheeks and found himself biting back a smile.
"M'kay, sure," Harry teased. "Well we'd better get going now, I have some homework to finish. Bye Sherl!" She called while walking out of the building, not giving him time to respond.
"Sherl?" John asked with a smirk. Sherlock blushed and glanced at his feet.
"Yeah a stupid nickname she gave me. My name's Sherlock."
"Well, Sherlock, it was a pleasure to meet you," John winked and strode out the door. Once John was gone, Sherlock was biting the insides of his cheeks in a desperate attempt to remove the smile from his face. However, the grin only grew as the boy took a deep breath and slid the warm hoodie over his head. Once it was on, Sherlock was trapped in John's scent. It was a lovely mix of cologne, soap, sweat, and a smell unique to the blond who had captured the ballerina's attention. After closing his eyes for a moment and inhaling the scent, Sherlock stepped out the door and into the brisk night air. He was extremely grateful for the extra layer now, and not just because it gave him an excuse to talk to a dazzling boy. Sherlock flipped the hood over his mess of curls and quickly jogged home.
After running from his mother's lecture about dressing for the weather, the dancer flopped onto his bed once the converse were removed from his feet. Sherlock buried his nose into the collar of John's hoodie and recalled their interaction. The blond boy had already managed to take up a portion of Sherlock's mind palace after just a short meeting. Sherlock found himself wishing the conversation was longer, something he never hopes for. The less interaction with dull people the better. But while John seems fairly ordinary, Sherlock still feels a pull towards him. Eventually, Sherlock drifted off into a comfortable sleep, dreaming of the boy whose hoodie he was wrapped in.
I'm thinking of making this a two-parter with Sherlock returning the hoodie since this is already over 2,000 words. Let me know if you have any suggestions , I would love to hear your thoughts!