Work Text:
John was supposed to stay at Harry’s place for the night… But with Harry being her sweet-not-sober-self, he decided to go back to Baker Street before he said something that he may or may not regret.
As he was going up the stairs to his room he heard noises coming from the living. Deciding that a cup of tea and his flat mate's company may be just what he needs to forget the not so great evening he opens the door.
A soft light was warming the room while soft classical music was coming from a computer. His computer. But for once it wasn’t what he saw first.
Sherlock was in the middle of the room in sweatpants and t-shirt dancing. More than just dancing, it was ballet!
Using the mantelpiece as support he was doing graceful pliés. Then his long body performed pirouettes and entrechats… Following the beats of the melancholic music, his mind blind to anything but his surroundings. His body, pliant to his strong will, was now doing jetés and écarts.
Closing the door quietly, John left Sherlock to his training. Pleased to know that his friend's (beautiful) body wasn’t just genetic but probably from years of training but a little sad that he never talked about it…
He went to bed smiling, dreaming of a young Baryshnikov.