(Ballet!lock because drool)
Sherlock wiped the forming flood of sweat from his forehead. He was hot and tired. But that wouldn't stop him. He sprang into the air, toes perfectly pointed, landing in demi-first and then triple pirouetting into a standing split against the wall. It sounded so simple in his head, and looked so simple to a watching John Watson. Sherlock made it look easy. He smiled as he realised he had got it perfect. Ballet was another one of Sherlocks talents. One he was particularly proud of. He knew how good he was, and he wouldn't let John forget it. He hadn't done that for a year, and had got it spot on on his third try, making John extremely jealous. "Okay." Sherlock panted. "Your turn." He took his waterbottle and poured half of it over his face and shoulders, most of it falling to the studio floor.
"Bare in mind I gave birth." John smiled nervously as Sherlocks arms found their way around his waist.
"Start in first." Sherlock hinted, kissing John's cheek and then walking to the side and splitting up against the wall. John watched enviously. He knew he couldn't do this. Sherlock started the music and John shook his head with a chuckle. He couldn't believe he had been tricked into this AGAIN! How many times had Sherlock tried to teach him this stuff? He jumped into the air and winced at the crash he made as he landed. He stamped his foot irritably and threw his ballet shoe across the room.
"I can't do it!" He wailed at sherlock, who was smiling at him. "I'm not like you! I can't... BEND like you do!" He said, the sides of his mouth turned down in an frustrated glare. Sherlock put two fingers under his chin.
"Calm down, gorgeous, you'll give yourself a nose bleed." He chuckled calmly. John stamped his foot again with the upmost rage.
"You told me this would calm me down after a day's packing." He grumbled. "You realise that's Mycroft with our kids, at the moment Sherlock. Mycroft." He sighed and leaned his head against Sherlock's hard chest. Sherlock frowned.
"But you..."
"Yes, I still love you." John smiled up at his boyfriend. "Can we try again? But show me this time. To something a bit... Slower?" Sherlock nodded and scanned his iPod for something slow. The music came on and Sherlock went behind John, tapping his foot to the beat.
"One and two and three and..." Sherlock lifted John slowly off his feet and put him down gently, his feet in a perfect Demi first. Sherlock grabbed his waist and span him around three times, quickly. John breathed out, heavily. Yes, this was relaxing. This took his mind off stuff. Sherlock split against the wall and John did so too. Sherlock smirked. "Anyone can dance, love." He said, picking John up and carrying him over a seat. "Watch." Sherlock winked, as the music changed to the white swan dance from swan lake. Sherlock performed it perfectly while John sat mesmerised and jealous, watching his all to perfect husband show off his all to perfect skill.
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"MYCROFT BLOODY HOLMES!" John yelled as he walked through the door. "WHY THE BLOODY HELL ARE MY BLOODY CHILDREN COVERED IN PAINT! ITS THREE IN THE BLOODY MORNING. OH BLOODY HELL." Sherlock smiled at a green and sticky Hattie-Rose. Mycroft walked out from the kitchen, his hands raised to surrender and his suit covered in green hand prints and red splodges. "Oh for heavens sake." John sighed. "Give me strength mycroft."
"They wanted to paint...?" Mycroft gave his excuse. A terrible one, really. "Sorry, John. They started crying around five and I didn't know what to do!" Mycroft apologised.
"Have my kids even been to bed?" Sherlock asked, picking up Hattie-Rose and putting her in the bath. He turned on the taps and found William, who was unamused at the red stripes on his cheeks and the green mess on his shirt. Without undressing the pair, Sherlock lathered them in baby wash and watched as the tub filled up.
"Where did you even get this stuff?" John asked, wiping his finger along mycrofts tie.
"Er, we went shopping." Mycroft said, looking at the floor like a scorned child. "I was just trying to keep them happy." He said. John shook his head and chuckled in disbelief.
"You did good Mycroft." John praised him, patting his arm. Mycrofts face showed true joy for second before he concealed it.
"Thank you John." He smiled. "I'm going to leave, now. Remember your flight is eight PM tomorrow, Sherlock. Goodbye."
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Sherlock sat on his plane seat with William resting on his knee. The couple and their children sat next to a man, who looked about twenty. He had thick black hair and green eyes. He spoke with a slight Irish accent. The flight had been in the air for a good 45 minutes now. Sherlock was bored, and nothing good ever came of Sherlock being bored. He played with his sons hair. So much had happened since they left England. He clutched Johns hand in his and kissed it, making a sleepy John blush. "Hi." Sherlock winked at him. John's stomach was as filled with exited butterflies as the day they had met.
"Hi." John said back, blinking his eyes in time with the music playing through the couples headphones. Sherlock smirked, locking lips with his husband. It was such a normal thing to do these days, but it still made Sherlock's brilliant brain explode with hundreds of thoughts and feelings, and it still made Johns heart race and his cheeks fade to that familiar rose colour. Sherlock put his hands on the back of Johns hair, pulling him in. "Sherlock!" John giggled like a teenager.
"Shut up." Sherlock managed to get out, before diving back into the kiss. The sound of Hattie's giggles brought the pair back down to earth, and thank goodness they did.
The man sat next to the family was holding a huge knife to William's small neck. Sherlock screamed and grabbed the man's wrist, directing it at the man. John, a horrified expression on his pale face, shouted nonsense and picked up both his children, running into the plane isle.
Sherlock continued his battle with the younger man. "Who are you!?" Sherlock shouted, furious. The man mumbled something, over and over and over. Sherlock listened, really listened. He ignored his husbands cries and his sons wails. He listened.
"Daddy says you have to loose one! One! Daddy said you had to loose one! One!" He screamed. Realisation dawned on Sherlock. How had he been so blind!?
"You're the son." Sherlock choked
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ITS SHORT AND SHIT IM SORRY 😭😂 love you guys x
~Izzy~