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The forlorn looking couple sat on a bench near Greg Lestrade's office. John paused a few feet away as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket and surveyed them critically. They were dressed to the nines, but the effect was somewhat subdued by their matching looks of defeat and the way they were sitting: each with an elbow on a knee and chin in hand. They both let out sad little sighs of defeat that softened John's ire a bit.
"Jewel heist? Really?" he said by way of hello as he stopped in front of the pair. Sherlock shrugged and Molly looked like she was going to cry. "Hey," John said with his it's-going-to-be-fine doctor's voice, "I'm sure it's not that bad. Bail was ridiculously low and Greg seems to think they can get the charges dropped once the suspect confesses."
"Mmm," Sherlock grunted, presumably in agreement.
"Come on," John said, giving Sherlock's shoulder a pat, "let's get you two home and you can tell me all about it."
"Not that much to tell," Sherlock admitted as he stood and tugged his jacket. Molly stood and smoothed her skirt and John noted that it was a particularly fluffy skirt (it took up half the bench) and very purple. Sherlock's tie and waistcoat were in a matching shade of purple, come to think of it. When they stood up, he noticed that Molly's dress was not only wide but a bit floaty. She still looked so sad that he didn't comment on it.
John led an abnormally subdued couple out of the building, giving a wave to Lestrade through the glass as they exited. Sherlock had his hands in his pockets and Molly was clinging to one of his arms. Her head rested against Sherlock's arm and she was positively morose.
"So...," John started, "that's a very twirly dress, Molly."
Molly smiled a bit, but it was Sherlock who responded, "We were at a ballroom dancing competition."
"Ah, the suspect owned a dance hall, right. You two were entered? And it wasn't a case?"
"That's right," Molly answered quietly, "We were set to start, when Sherlock realized the rhinestones on one contestant's dress weren't fake after all."
"The Mazarin Collection," Sherlock put in, clearly expecting John to know the significance. John just made a noise of acknowledgement. He'd look it up on the internet it later. "The proprietor had removed the stones from their settings and been smuggling them out on the costumes of amateur dancers he sponsored for competitions. His mistress sews their costumes. They were leaving for Cyprus as soon as he managed to sell all of the gems." Sherlock looked down and to the side, but not directly at Molly, "I am sorry. I should have waited, or called Lestrade straight way. Instead I got us caught up in another case."
"I'm not upset about that," Molly said with a sniff, patting Sherlock's arm, "that was fun, actually. It's just..." Molly looked up with tear-filled eyes, "we didn't get to have our dance. We worked so hard and we were so excited and we didn't get to dance."
Sherlock looked at her for a moment then stepped away, turned and held out his hand. Molly's eyes grew wide.
"Here? In the middle of the car park?" Molly asked as she took his hand. "But there's no music."
Sherlock pulled her in, taking one of her hands and resting it over his heart. "Remember what I told you?"
Molly nodded, "It's not about the music. It's about-"
"The beat. The rhythm."
As they spoke, Sherlock and Molly began to move to a rhythm only they could hear. Their hands gradually slid into the proper positions as their movements formed a perfect waltz. John almost dropped his mobile in his haste to document the very rare sight of Sherlock Holmes dancing in public. He regretted now insisting that Mary stay home, but knew she would appreciate the video he was recording.
Watching them was mesmerizing. John knew that Sherlock was a brilliant dancer- anyone who could manage to teach John Watson how not to embarrass himself on a dance floor had to be- but he had not had the chance to see what the other man could really do. He and Molly moved together in flawless synchronicity, her fluffy skirt billowing out as they twirled and spun. Under their feet, the cracked pavement of a littered car park became parquet flooring in the finest ballroom.
After the last, dramatic spin, their internal music ended and the couple stood smiling at each other. John put away his phone and was about to start clapping, but someone else beat him to it. Several someones beat him to it. He looked around as he joined in the applause to see several off duty officers standing in groups around the car park watching them. There were a few watching from the windows. He saw Greg Lestrade, who pointed to his own phone with a thumbs up, indicating that he had recorded it too.
The couple had been startled a bit by the sudden attention. Molly blushed, but Sherlock recovered quickly and leaned down to say something to Molly. She smiled and nodded and they performed the regulation bow all dance sport participants execute after their dance, Sherlock twirled Molly out and they both bowed before he led her off their make shift dance floor.
John grinned at them both and asked, "Do you want me to take you to Molly's or Baker Street?"
Sherlock looked at Molly and said, "You don't have work tomorrow."
Molly shook her head and Sherlock turned back to John, "Brockley Road. There's a dance hall there that stays open late." He offered his arm to Molly, "Care to come dancing?"
"I'd love to," Molly bubbled, as she took Sherlock's arm.
John grinned at the two and held the back door open, perfectly happy to play chauffeur.