The morning of John and Mary's wedding commenced as any other day would with you in the kitchen having breakfast by yourself.
Over three months have passed since you've moved into the 221B residence and you were still not used to how little eating was actually done on the dining table. Understandable, as on most days much of the dining space was jam-packed with beakers and animal/human remains.
While you have been sharing a flat with Sherlock for a while now, you have been friends with him and John for much longer. You met the detective and his blogger on an intriguing murder case and repetitively after that due to the nature of your work with Scotland Yard. Since then, you've had a blossoming friendship with John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
Getting up to place the empty plate in the sink, you scowled at the sight of it in front of you.
You knew what you were roping yourself into when you moved into your current abode. It was only after your best friend moved out of your old flat to move in with her boyfriend that John suggested you move in to his old, vacant room when he found out you were looking for a new flatmate to share rent with. After much deliberation, you decided to move in, well-aware of the eccentric lifestyle and habits of the famous detective. Some days you wished you hadn't, but on most days you were too caught up tagging along to the enthralling life of Sherlock Holmes to give it much thought. You've forgotten what it felt like to be bored.
You proceeded to wash your plate and placed it on the rack to dry when the sound of a violin playing a gentle waltz broke your train of thought. Drying your hands, you made your way out of the kitchen and found Sherlock in his tan coloured dressing gown adjusting his phone over the speakers in the living room.
"Thought that was you."
"It is," he said with his back still turned away from you.
"Sounds beautiful," you smiled. You often wondered how a man as hard-hearted as Sherlock Holmes could compose such beautiful music.
"Mmm," he hummed, turning around to find you leaning against the door frame and moved to walk towards you.
"Hopefully my dance classes haven't been a complete waste of time," he stopped in front of you and held out both of his hands.
You shook your head but before you could say no, he had already taken both of your hands in his and dragged you towards the centre of the living room.
You groaned. There was no denying the man when he wanted something.
You placed your left hand on his shoulder as he placed his right on your shoulder blade, while your other remained grasped in his. For someone with such a cold demeanour, his hands were always surprisingly warm.
Sherlock took the lead and moved the both of you to the sound of the waltz. His movements were graceful and effortless as always. Trying to follow his movements, your eyes automatically darted down to look at your feet, making sure you were not stepping on his.
"Ah yes, the top of your head is lovely as always Y/N," he drawled out.
You snapped your neck up to glare at him and plastered a sickly, sweet smile on your face. "Why, thank you, Mr. Holmes."
"Even John is a better dancer than you are," he winced as you 'accidentally' stepped on his toes
"With all the practice you two have had, I wouldn't be surprised. Apparently Mrs. Turner next door thought it was the two of you getting married."
"And I made the mistake of assuming you were well above the idle chatter of our neighbours," he said with a slight raise of his eyebrow and hushed you when you opened your mouth to speak.
Instead, you proceeded to focus on the music reverberating through the room. As the movements became more familiar to you, the two of you began to move fluidly to the sound of the music gradually moving closer to one another.
Everything was perfect. The music. The waltz. The man.
You were caught off guard as Sherlock removed the hand on your shoulder to twirl you around and you couldn't help but giggle softly, a soft smile also playing on his lips. This time as you spun back to face him, his other hand was placed gently on the small of your back. Your knees wobbled slightly as he began to lead again. The two of you were so close, you could feel Sherlock's breathe tickle your forehead...
You started to lose sense of the soft melody of the violin as your heart began to pound; slowly at first and gradually loud enough, almost deafening you.
Any louder and Sherlock would probably be able hear it and with how close in proximity the two of you were, he probably could...
"I-It is beautiful," you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "The music, I mean."
Before Sherlock could respond, the door to the living room swung open and you immediately let go off Sherlock and moved to increase the distance between the two of you. Looking over to find the source of the intrusion, you found Mrs. Hudson at the door with a tray of tea and a knowing smile on her face.
"Morning, Mrs. H!" you said, your voice slightly higher than usual. At the same time Sherlock mumbled, "Shut up, Mrs. Hudson."
Sherlock reluctantly let his hands fall by his sides; a look on his face you couldn't quite put a finger on. You had no idea why you felt the need to let go off Sherlock as quickly as you did, feeling slightly at unease for doing so. Something about the thought of Mrs. Hudson walking in on the two of you dancing made you blush.
All of you had been practicing dancing in pairs in preparation for the big day. But this time with no one else around it was different; it was... intimate. You already missed the warmth of his hands in yours and his strong arms encircled around you. And the way his soft breathe tickled the tiny hairs around your face... You loved the ever-cheerful landlady but right now, a small part of you had the insistent urge to fling the little tea tray out of her hands.
"I haven't said a word," Mrs. Hudson replied, directing it at Sherlock.
"You're formulating a question. It's physically painful watching you thinking," Sherlock sighed as he moved towards the centre table. "And look, you've made Y/N uncomfortable."
Your eyes widened and a blush crept up on your cheeks. "I-I'm fine."
Sherlock gave you look that said he clearly didn't believe you.
"I thought it was you playing."
"It was me playing." He gestured towards the speaker, switching it off and bending down to make a notation on the sheet music. "I am composing."
"You two were dancing," Mrs. Hudson said, placing the tray down on the side table, a small smile still etched on her face.
"We were road-testing."
"You what?"
Sherlock threw down his pen, turned around sharply and gave Mrs. Hudson an irritated look. "Why are you here?"
You sighed at the man's ability to be so blunt.
"Sherlock, be nice. She brought you your morning tea." You sat down on the sofa, suddenly feeling very tired.
Mrs. Hudson shook her head as she poured some milk into the teacup, "You're not usually awake."
"You bring me tea in the morning?" asked Sherlock sitting down on his chair, an incredulous look marred on his face.
"Well, where d'you think it came from?" Mrs. Hudson rebutted as she chuckled in disbelief.
"I don't know. I just thought it sort of... happened."
You let out a small laugh and scoffed, "That might be your best deduction so far detective!" earning you a glare from the said detective.
The landlady shook her head as she handed Sherlock his tea, "Your mother has a lot to answer for."
"I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file."
The two of you giggled. "I'd love to sit and chat and know more about the contents of the file you mention, but I have to get dressed," you said as you got up.
"Oh Y/N, have some tea with us!" the older lady called back.
You threw a small smile at Mrs. Hudson's direction, "You two carry on. Don't want to be late for the wedding!"
Your made your way up the wooden stairs to your room and grinned as you heard Mrs. Hudson excitedly say to Sherlock, "So, it's the big day then!-"