Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

What Happened In Room 32 (Part 3)

Mingling had long since begun now that dinner had been eaten, and Sherlock and Y/N watched as John left their table and got absorbed by the mass of suits and summer dresses. The sun had begun setting, it's rich light matured to a deep orange and guests started moving towards the other end of the hall, signalling that the party had moved into its second half.

Y/N prefered the first half of wedding parties. The first half gave you one of two options: you could sit and eat the meal being served, or you could migrate to your neighbouring tables and chat.

However, the second half mainly meant one thing; dancing, which is something Y/N didn't want to do. Not because she didn't want to dance, but because she just didn't have anyone to dance with. At her friend's weddings, the ones that were in a relationship would select a few squares of the checked floor and tangle each other in a tight embrace, then begin swaying to whatever slow eighties love ballad the DJ had fished out of his overused wedding playlist. The single people who wanted to be in a relationship would nervously pick their way through the crowd, pairing up, then hold each other at arm's-length before making fake promises about calling each other once the party was over. That left the single people who didn't want to be with anyone, or who---like Y/N---had someone in mind so had zero interest in finding another partner.

"Do you want to be going now?" Y/N asked Sherlock when their conversation reached a natural lull. John had booked them a room each at the nearest hotel, a courtesy to all his guests for dragging them several hours drive out of London, and the quiet solitude was looking more and more appealing to Y/N as the evening went on. Well, she didn't want to be alone, but all the couples now making their way together to the dance floor, all this 'love in the air', was reminding her of the fact that she was, and she didn't like it.

Sherlock had leaned back in his chair some time ago, his lanky body curved lazily, his whole demeanour had shifted from weary to relaxed, but he tensed back up now at Y/N's suggestion. "Actually, would you mind staying a bit longer?" He scratched behind his neck, unruly curls engulfing his slim fingers. "I know I don't usually...like this sort of thing, but I'm actually having a nice time."

"Really?" Y/N couldn't help the note of disbelief that crept into her exclamation, and he fractionally inclined his shoulders.

"Mm. We don't have to, you can go if you want, I just thought that..."

She'd moved to get up, sure that her friend would eagerly follow, but now resumed her previous position, watching him curiously. "I don't mind staying if you want to."

"Thank you." He paused, eyes fixed on the couples moving from side to side under the drunkenly meandering mood lights. Their smooth flow of conversation had been interrupted and Y/N wondered what Sherlock hoped to spend the rest of the evening doing. Why did he even want to stay at all? If he wanted to continue talking they could do that on the way to the hotel.

As if in answer, still staring over her shoulder, Sherlock suddenly said, quietly: "Do you want to dance?"

Y/N was so surprised she just said stupidly: "What?"

"People are dancing. Over there. Do you want to join them? With me. Obviously." He was rambling.

Y/N had never heard him ramble before. "Are you asking me because you feel obligated to, seeing as you invited me here, or do you actually want to dance?"

"I want to. The music is nice and I've always liked dancing. I just never had anyone to do it with."

Not caring that it sounded cliche, Y/N couldn't help a beam light up her previously bored expression: "Well you do now." She stood up, holding a hand out for him to take then flushed, embarrassed at her own eagerness. Sherlock didn't seem to mind, though; his own lips were tweaked up into an inadvertent smile as he took her outstretched palm in a way that could only be described as bashfully.