(A/N: Ummm so like today's my 16th birthday or something... :D So in honor of that AND over 1.75k reads, I'll be uploading two parts today for your reading pleasure. I can promise plenty of fluff and cute moments- Enjoy!! )
(Your POV)
I'm no Disney Princess. When I wake up in the mornings, no chirping birds serenade my ears with sweet melodies as I slowly stretch and comb my fingers through my perfect (h/c) hair. No. Instead, I woke up the next morning with a stiff back, groaning.
With a new case to focus on, Sherlock wasn't spending his days moping about in his mind palace. This also meant that he was now using his bed again. Unfortunately, that left me stuck on the uncomfortable sofa once again.
I sighed, sitting up and attempting to tame my wild hair with my fingers. After a few moments of trying to no avail, I gave up. I huffed, grabbing my phone to check the time.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. 7:30 a.m.? Well, aren't I the early bird this morning. John was probably gone already, he had said something about going shopping really early so we could do the case this afternoon. Guess it's just me and Sherlock. I stood slowly, stretching my stiff muscles. Knowing Sherlock wasn't a morning person, I knew he wouldn't be up until at least nine. Might as well take advantage of the personal time.
I made my way to the bathroom, allowing myself an extra-long time in the hot shower. It was just what I needed- my muscles were totally relaxed by the time I stepped out. Not planning to go anywhere until this evening, I changed into my around-the-flat clothes. Nothing fancy, just black leggings and a white crop-top. I put my wet hair up in a messy bun and headed out into the kitchen.
The flat was silent; the only noise was the quiet hum of the air conditioning. I sat at the kitchen table for a few moments, taking it in. It wasn't often you got peace and quiet around here. But once you did, it was maddening. When I couldn't take it anymore, I trotted over to where my iPod was plugged in on the kitchen counter. Scrolling through my playlists, I selected my Elvis one. Immediately, the tune of Blue Suede Shoes filled the kitchen, cutting through the silence.
I pulled out a pan and the last carton of eggs, ready to cook breakfast. Soon, the stovetop was on, the pan was sizzling, and the eggs were cooking. I stood there waiting for the eggs to finish, swaying to the music and tapping my foot.
A pair of cold arms wrapped around my waist. I gave a soft gasp, startled, before I realized the only person it could be. I relaxed, melting into Sherlock's chest as he rested his chin on top of my head. "Morning." His morning voice was low and raspy, and it sent shivers down my spine. Dang, that's sexy.
"Morning." I said softly. We stood silently for a moment, enjoying the music and the feel of each other's company. I thought about the Sherlock I had met that horrible night in front of my old flat complex- rude, uncaring, cold, harsh. Then I thought about the Sherlock I knew now- still the same to everyone else, I supposed. But when he was with me or John, he was totally different. He was kinder, sweeter. Like he was right now. I could never have imagined Sherlock acting this way when I met him nearly two months ago. Yet here he was, in the kitchen with me, holding me by the waist and swaying with me in time to the music. I chuckled softly to myself. Funny how wrong first impressions can be.
"What's so funny?"
I grinned, shifting and turning around so I was facing him. He kept his arms wrapped around me. I put my arms around his waist, drawing him in for a hug. "Nothing." I rested my head on his chest. "Want some eggs?" I tilted my chin to look up at him. His blue eyes were sparkling with life, even though it was early in the morning. His hair, however, was a mess. I resisted the urge to ruffle the curls. It's kinda cute, though.
"Sure." I nodded and let go of him, turning around and taking my eggs off the stove- they were done. I scraped them out of the pan and onto a plate. I heard the table being pushed to the wall of the kitchen, leaving the center of the kitchen wide open. What is he doing? I shook off the thought- there was no use questioning Sherlock's strange behaviors.
"How do you like them?"
"Benedict."
"Mkay." I went to grab an egg, but he stopped me by taking my hand.
"Not just yet."
I turned to face him, confused. "Why?" Still keeping a hold of my hand, he walked backwards to my iPod, opening it and scrolling through the Elvis playlist.
"Because," he said, selecting a song. "You have to learn to dance." That explains the table.
The sound of the music faded as the next song loaded. Which one did he choose? "Are you any good, yourself?"
He gave a cocky half smile. "The best." He said playfully.
I chuckled, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder as he took my right hand into his left. "Alright then." He rested his right hand on my shoulder blade- completing the setup for a waltz. I might not know how to waltz, but I know one when I see one. "Sweep me off my feet with your dancing skills." I raised an eyebrow in a joking manner.
He grinned and moved in closer until we were only a few inches apart. "With pleasure." A soft melody of eighth notes began to play, and I recognized the tune immediately- Can't Help Falling in Love. Appropriate, I supposed. It had a three-four feel, which was perfect for a waltz. Nevertheless, I felt a blush spread across my cheeks. Nothing like dancing to your favorite song with someone you may or may not have a crush on. (I just haven't quite decided if I want to like him, yet.) "A waltz is a counter-clockwise dance, okay?" His voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Got it."
"Step back with your right, then out with your left." His voice was soft yet commanding.
(I highly recommend listening to the song while you read this part)
Wise men say...
I did exactly as he said and followed his lead- he really was a surprisingly graceful dancer. I kept my hand firmly clasped in his, as his support was the only thing keeping me from tripping and falling over my own feet. When it comes to dancing, I consider myself a hopeless case.
Only fools rush in...
"Now bring your feet together..." I brought my right foot in. He looked down to see if I was doing it correctly, then smiled in approval.
But I can't help falling in love with you.
"Good. Now forward with your left... Excellent... now the same out-together step..."
Shall I stay?
I grinned. "Oh my God, I'm doing it."
Would it be a sin?
He returned the smile. "Stay on your toes... There. Now follow my lead."
If I can't help falling in love with you?
Using the same steps, I followed his lead around the kitchen, twirling counter-clockwise in beautiful patterns.
Like a river flows...
"I'm going to take you for a six-count spin, okay?"
Surely to the sea...
"I drop my hand, you step backwards..." I did my best to follow his directions. I let him guide me, raising my arm so I could spin.
Darling, so it goes...
"And now a three-step spin... and back into position." He grinned in approval, eyes twinkling. "Perfect."
Some things are meant to be.
We continued our waltz pattern, and he moved in closer with every step.
Take my hand...
I held my breath. His face was leaned down so our noses practically touched. Slowly but surely, he moved his right hand from my back to my waist, hitting exposed skin because I was wearing a crop top. I knew I was blushing, but there was nothing I could do about it. My skin was on fire, his touch leaving sparks in its wake.
Take my whole life, too...
When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make my heart skip a beat. That's it- I'm whipped as hell. "I'm going to dip you- don't be alarmed." Keeping one hand firmly holding mine, he used his other hand to hold the small of my back as he slowly dipped me towards the ground.
For I can't help...
We stayed like that for a moment, suspended in time. He stared at me intensely, taking in everything. I didn't look away from his eyes, worried I might get distracted. Not that it helped- his eyes were just as distracting as the rest of him.
Falling in love...
He looked me straight in the eyes as he slowly lifted me out of the dip. When we were standing straight, we didn't continue dancing. Instead, we kept our hold on one another, the tension rising. Hang on, are his pupils dilating? They definitely were.
With... you...
As the last eighth notes signaled the end of the song, we simply stood there, gazing into one another's eyes, at a loss for words. Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly gathering the courage to say something. I waited anxiously, lips parted slightly in anticipation.
"(Y/n)..." He started.
"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" John's voice cut Sherlock's off, and we both whipped our heads around to see him standing in the entrance to the kitchen, smirking. I felt my face go pink- again. I risked a glance at Sherlock- his face was a shade darker as well.
"Uh... no." I said, awkwardly pulling away from Sherlock's hold. He followed suit, releasing me and clasping his hands behind his back.
"Mhm. Morning, you two." John sang, trying not to laugh. "So, uh, how's her dancing coming, Sherlock?" He quickly changed the subject, setting down the grocery bags on the table, which was still pushed up against the wall.
Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly, heading out into the living room. He had shed his speechless demeanor and was back to his old self. "For someone who says she can't dance, she's a natural." He turned and shot a smile in my direction, which I returned.
John turned to me with an incredulous look. "Is she, now?"
I tilted my head up, placed my hands on my hips, and looked down my nose at John. "I'll have you know," I scoffed playfully, "that I'm simply the best around."
John rolled his eyes and I grinned. "Yeah, okay there, (Y/n)."
I laughed, trying to shake off some of the tension from earlier. Wow, that was awkward. I wonder what Sherlock was going to say...? I smiled to myself as I replayed the last few minute's events in my head.
Seeing that John was busy putting away groceries, I headed out into the living room to join Sherlock. He was sitting in his chair, his eyes intensely following my every move. I plopped down in John's chair and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. After a moment of silent staring, I jumped straight into it. No need to beat around the bush. "So. What were you going to say earlier?"
He scrunched his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You were going to say something... before John walked in."
"Oh, that." Sherlock relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair and making full use of the armrests. I copied his relaxed stance, glad that any tension had dissipated. He looked me dead in the eyes, and answered my question nonchalantly. "Date me."
My mouth hung open for a second. "I- u-um... what?" He continued to sit there, perfectly relaxed, watching my reaction with mild interest.
"For the case."
I let out a long breath and looked down. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed- either way, it stopped me from having to make up my mind on that matter. "Oh. Um, yeah. Okay." I muttered silent curses under my breath. Of course he wasn't being serious, you idiot. Why would he ever take an interest in you? I shook away the thoughts, I didn't want Sherlock catching on to how I felt.
I finally gathered the courage to look back up at Sherlock, who was grinning from ear to ear. When he saw me looking, he dropped the smile and cleared his throat. "Um, excellent. I'll let Mycroft know you agreed to his plan right away."
I nodded, but inwardly frowned. Something about that sentence wasn't quite right- I had a sneaking suspicion that it hadn't been Mycroft's plan. I shrugged. It's whatever. After he finished typing something into his phone, Sherlock glanced down at his watch. Thinking for a moment, he stood and walked purposefully over to me.
I quirked an eyebrow in surprise when he extended a hand for me. "Yes?" I inquired, accepting the gesture and allowing him to help me out of the chair. Several emotions swirled in his eyes, moving so quickly that I couldn't make any of them out. I sighed inwardly. He was a tough case to crack, this one. No pun intended. There was silence between us for a moment- the only sound to be heard in the flat was the shuffling of bags in the kitchen.
"You were up early this morning, and our case is going to last pretty late tonight. You should rest while you can."
I was a little taken aback by his words. This was a little abnormal for Sherlock, being sensitive to my well-being and all. He usually only did that when I was seriously injured or on the brink of death. "But Mycroft is coming..."
"He won't be here until this afternoon." He cut me off abruptly. "I can wake you once he gets here."
Now that I thought about it, I was a little tired. Recently, I hadn't been sleeping as well as I usually did- and that's even considering my regular insomniac sleeping patterns. I supposed a few hours of rest wouldn't kill me. I nodded, making up my mind. "Okay, I'll sleep." I took a step towards the sofa, but Sherlock held out his arm in front of me to stop me.
"My bedroom's that way- I know you don't like the sofa." He added upon seeing my confused face.
I sized him for a fraction of a second, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. He was. I flashed him a genuine smile. "Thanks, Curly." I reached up and ruffled his curls playfully- something I'd been wanting to do since his arrival in the kitchen this morning. He rolled his eyes at the new nickname and placed a hand on the small of my back, pushing me in the direction of the bedroom.
"Oh, go take a nap or something, (Y/n)."
I gave him a fake pout, but then laughed softly. "Fine, but somebody better eat those eggs." With that, I turned and made my way through the kitchen, passing John, who was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. I gave him a swift jab in the side with my elbow before heading down the hallway and into Sherlock's bedroom.
Curling up under the covers, I let my thoughts consume me for a few minutes. What the hell even was this morning? I replayed the dance over and over in my head before clearing my mind and drifting off to sleep.