cookie-eat-me replied to your post “Whenever I listen to any song at all, I just think of John dancing to…”
YOU HAVE A SLAVE DANCER JOHN FIC?? YOU- YOU ARE THE ONLY GOOD THING LEFT IN THE WORLD
“His name is John,” Moran murmured, eyes not leaving the stage. “Watch.”
Sherlock turned his attention obligingly to the front. When his foot hit the stage, the dancer—John—unwound one of the gauzy translucent scarves wrapped around him as part of his costume to loop it around the metal bar hanging above his head. Leaning out from it with his back arched and his toes touching the ground, he made a slow, lazy rotation, face to the room.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes as the man’s flat, considering gaze swept over him. Sizing up the audience. No, his expression was too cold for that; almost hostile. A challenge? There was a low stir at the tables around him as patrons reacted to whatever they saw in his face.
Apparently satisfied with whatever message he’d just sent, John pulled himself upright and twisted to swing up into the air, spinning off the ground in a wild, seemingly effortless upward tumble.
Moran was right. Sherlock had never seen anything so compellingly angry as John’s dance.
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