A Scandal in Baskerville High

Chapter 28 - Dancing Holmes

•John's POV•

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December 26th

11:04 a.m.

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Waking up to Sherlock smiling back at me probably made me more giggly than I've ever been in my life.

"Morning, John."

He kissed me softly to stop me from falling back asleep. "But I'm tired!" I complained, "Five more minutes?"

"No. Get up."

I got up by falling off the bed, taking the blankets with me.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock chuckled, "It's cold."

I rolled my eyes, "It can man up."

Sherlock cast me a cute scowl. I sifted through the copious amount of clothes strewn around the room - some from yesterday, some from many days ago. We really need to clean this place up.

"Wear your detective outfit," I gave up on looking for our clothes in the mess.

"Why?"

"Cause I wanna see you in it," I rolled up like a sausage in the blankets, "Is that such a crime?"

"I guess not. I'll try it on," Sherlock complied, searching for the outfit, "But it's not my style."

I watched him dress in black jeans and a white t-shirt, pulling on the large trench coat and hat. He did the scarf wrong.

"How do I look?" He asked.

"Ridiculous," I laughed, "Let me help."

I redid the scarf properly, then as a personal touch, I turned the coat collar up.

"Snazzy," Sherlock commented, "I might just have to dress this way!"

He threw the hat off an added, "Minus the hat. Too cliché."

I chuckled, "You look good."

"If I'm going to be in uniform, so are you," Sherlock tore through his dresser, pulling out a decked-out, full-on Vietnam army uniform.

"Where'd you get that?" I asked, staring at the nametag. Siger T. Holmes.

"It was my dad's," Sherlock said in a flat tone, "When he was young, he was in the war. He came home to my mom."

"Lucky him," I commented, "But...why is that my uniform?"

"It's not, but it's a uniform."

I nodded. Fair enough. I put in on with care - wouldn't want it to rip. I admired my reflection in the mirror.

"Would you look at that," I puffed out my chest and fixed my hair into a more 'uppy' style, "I'm Dean Winchester!"

Sherlock stared at me quizzically, "Euh...alrighty. I'll tell you what you are - a sexy man in uniform!"

I laughed at my image in the mirror. Me, in an army suit. Absurd.

"The detective and the army doctor," Sherlock mumbled idly, "Fits."

I smiled. It does fit. A perfectly matching pair.

Like two pieces of a puzzle.

I just noticed the violin music that played through the speakers of an iPod dock. Sherlock walked slowly toward me, snapping his fingers.

"Oh, no..." I flushed pink, "Sherlock, I don't dance."

"Yes you do," Sherlock grabbed me by the waist, dipping me swiftly, "This is my own piece. Dance."