Chapter Text
They were sitting on the sofa, Sherlock’s lithe feet resting on John’s lap. The brunet had arrived home just half an hour ago, having spent the last two hours practicing at the university’s gymnasium which had been the only place where he could practice for free that day. Sometimes he got a few minutes at some local dance studio when a student cancelled but that was rare, and Sherlock kept complaining how he could never get better due to the lack of proper practice.
John was absentmindedly rubbing and massaging his calves, still hitting all the right places because he had spent hours memorising the muscles and nerves one afternoon (purely for his medical studies; Sherlock’s legs correlated quite well with his textbook charts, though Sherlock had still enjoyed the act immensely). Sherlock was still tense after his routines though he said he couldn’t do much other than stretching and basic moves, since there were no mirrors in the gymnasium.
Continuing the massage, John considered his plan once more. He wasn’t still completely sure if interfering with Sherlock's dancing was a good idea, the brunet was always defensive about his hobby.
He has a good reason though, John thought bitterly. Remembering how badly Sherlock’s interests had been received by the world, even his parents, so far was an endless source of angry, adrenaline-filled energy for the blond, and he opened his mouth before he chickened out again.
“Um, Sherlock?” John started. The brunet gave a noncommittal hum, apparently not entirely noticing John’s nerves. “Yeah, uh. I was thinking. About your dancing...”
Talking about Sherlock’s dancing was something that immediately put him on alert, John could feel his legs tense on his lap. When Sherlock didn’t comment, John continued: “I understand you, um, said you don’t have a teacher, right? I mean you haven’t, or...”
Sherlock raised his head to look at John, cautiously curious. Then he gave a tentative nod.
“Uh, right, so I was thinking. Maybe if you would like to, or want to – to get one?” John silently cursed his inability to be his normal, confident self about this. Instead he felt unnaturally nervous which was, well, unnerving. He kept his gaze downwards, stroking his hand idly across Sherlock’s legs.
Sherlock hummed again. “You know how expensive ballet lessons, especially good, private ones are, John, and you also know my parents refused to support my free-time activities after that incident with cocaine. Not that they had been very fond of the idea of me 'in a tutu' to begin with.” John could tell Sherlock was unhappy about the situation, every time he managed to mention it, and it made the blond slightly more sure of his decision.
“Yeah, I know. So, I did a few, uh, calls around, and well, there’s this… Mrs. Hudson if I remember correctly.”
Sherlock places his feet on the floor and sat up properly, and John had to raise his hands to rub at his neck, feeling very awkward. “And, uh, we talked and… Well, it’s only once a week, but it was something like 90 minutes, or... But it wasn’t a bad price and I figured I could -”
“John,” Sherlock interrupted his blabbering, “are you saying you’d pay ballet lessons for me?” He sounded so weirded out by the idea that John once again doubted himself.
“Of course you don’t have to, I just thought… You mentioned you weren’t progressing a few weeks ago, and I – well, I thought it could, um, help, maybe,” he mumbled, feeling hot and red already.
Sherlock stared at him, still unbelieving.
“Why,” he said with a small voice, “why would you do that?”
John couldn’t decide whether to look at Sherlock’s face or his own lap. “It’s just, I mean I’ve seen you dance, obviously, and you’re always happy after you’ve practiced… It’s something you want, or I thought… It’s fine if you rather not, it’s all f-”
Sherlock interrupted him again, but this time it was with a kiss as the dancer climbed onto John’s lap and hugged his middle tightly. Then he buried his head in John’s neck and gave a laugh.
“Of course I’d want that, I’d like nothing better. Thank you John, I’m really...” After squeezing the blond’s middle for the last time, he pulled back and swept his eyes over John’s face. “You’re really full of surprises, aren’t you?”
John gave him a huge smile and kissed the dancer again. They laid like that for a while, Sherlock laying his head on John’s shoulder and the blond just holding him. Then Sherlock had a thought. “How are you going to pay that teacher?”
“Mrs. Hudson agreed to give us a discount, for now at least, she’d really like to see who you are… But I did, um, I asked Molly if I could get more hours at the café, and since Greg’s been busy lately she said it would work out well, I can work some of his shifts. And I’m almost finished with my studies, so I’ll get proper shifts at the clinic too soon.”
Sherlock had to pull back again to stare at John some more. “Isn’t that – I mean you’re in medical school now, are you sure?”
John had to smirk at Sherlock’s concern. “I’ll be fine, plus I’ll get some savings too so it’s not all for just you.” The brunet shook his head while still watching John. “You keep amazing me, John, you really do. Just let me know if you get tired, please,” he added with firmness that John didn’t dare to dismiss.
“I will, promise. It’ll be worth it, you are already brilliant. Make sure she knows how you do your best.”
Sherlock took his while to enjoy the lovely crooked smile John gave him and then relaxed against John once again, stroking his back and hair, feeling immensely happy.
“I will.”