Deerstalkers and Love Letters - Teenlock

12. Ballet Shoes

I sit curled up on the sofa, with Sherlock by my side. Christmas Day. Mycroft crouches on the floor, dividing the presents between everyone, and Sherlock's parents stand by the doorway clutching a camera. Everyone's still donning their pyjamas, well everyone apart from Mycroft who was dressed some time ago. He sorts through the presents, every now and again handing me and Sherlock one.
"There's one from Aunt and Uncle," he says in a bored tone. Sherlock admires it for a second before snatching it away from his brother.
"New socks," Sherlock says with a slight grin, putting the box by his side.
"Sherlock!" His mother calls, rolling her eyes.
"At least open it first!"
Sherlock groans.
"But what's the point if I already know what it is."
I chuckle at this and Sherlock smiles at me.
"And the next present is for me," Mycroft exclaims, almost proudly.
"Who's it from?" Sherlock's father asks.
"Greg probably," I hear Sherlock mutter, and Mycroft glares suddenly at him.
"Who's Greg?" His mother says with a slight frown.

Eventually, nearly all of the presents have been opened. There's just a small one still tucked under the Christmas tree out of sight. The wrapping paper is a nice shade of baby blue and it's wrapped in white ribbon. Mycroft digs it out and passes it to the curly-haired boy. For the first time today, Sherlock looks puzzled. Cautiously he pulls off the ribbon and lifts open the lid of the box. I peer inside the box and a look of surprise comes over my face. They're ballet shoes.
"I didn't know you could dance!"
Sherlock blushes and his mother folds her arms, a smile placed on her lips.
"A very good dancer in fact," she explains.
"I'm surprised he hasn't told you."
Sherlock smiles slightly and glances at me. I'm impressed.
"Why don't you show us brother mine," Mycroft says snarkily. 
"Fine," Sherlock says, standing up. Mycroft stares at him in surprise for a second before smirking.
"John, would you care to join me?"

A few minutes later and Sherlock steps back into the room, sporting a black vest, black tights, and his new ballet shoes. He gestures towards me and I glance around the room awkwardly.
"It's alright love," Sherlock's mother says with a smile.
"We know about you and Sherlock."
I turn to her, slightly shocked.
"But how did you-"
Sherlock's parents chuckle.
"You can tell by the way you two act around each-other," his mother explains.
"It's not exactly subtle."
A sudden feeling of relaxation comes over me at this statement and I turn back to Sherlock, taking his hand. He dances with a strong element of grace, I mind. Every move he makes, every leap, every turn has been thought out with precision. For the final move Sherlock lifts me into the air. As he spins me I feel a rush of adrenaline shoot through me. Afterwards, he helps me down onto the floor, greeted by applause. Even Mycroft was clapping. Sherlock leans down to me.
"You're a natural," he whispers to me, breaking into a smile. I laugh at this.
"You should of seen yourself, Sherlock you're amazing!"
And to this Sherlock's cheeks blush a crimson red colour. Sherlock Holmes was actually embarrassed.

••••••

I stand in-front of the bathroom mirror a few hours later, pulling a light blue sweater over my head. I glance at myself for a moment, my breath slightly shaky. The bandages are still there, a reminder. But I don't want to remember any of that. I hastily try to take my mind off it and walk back into Sherlock's room, still not one hundred percent calm. The curly-haired boy lies lazily on his bed, laptop in my hand and dressed in a purple shirt and jeans. When he hears me approaching, he gazes up, and immediately notices my expression.
"Are you okay?" Sherlock asks me worriedly, putting down his laptop.
I give a nod.
"Oh don't worry about me," I reply, managing a weak smile.
"I'm fine."
He eyes me up and down before also breaking into a smile.
"Right, shall we head downstairs?"

Sherlock leads me down the flight of stairs and into the dining room where Mrs Hudson greets us.
"Hello boys!" She says cheerily, hand on her hip.
"And a merry Christmas."
"And to you too," Sherlock replies. We make our way past her and sit up at the table. It's filled with various dishes and plates of food, with a turkey sat in the middle. Mycroft sits opposite us and Sherlock's parents fill in the gaps.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see my boyfriend waving a Christmas cracker in his hand.
"Want to have a go?" He asks me brightly.
I end up winning, and peer inside to discover the prize. It's a small photograph, wrapped up tightly to fit inside. I unravel it. It's a photo of us.

••••••

A/N: Thank you so much for 400 views I can't express how grateful I am!