This time it’s John dragging Sherlock back to the dance floor. Sherlock’s head is swimming pleasantly, the room buzzing a bit, the crush of bodies getting tighter as more and more people fill up the club. It’s one heaving thrum. The air smells like sweat and sex, damp clean hair, alcohol and cologne. Sherlock’s sweating like hell, rivulets running down his spine and the sides of his face, lost in the rhythm.

Commission for anigrrrl2 ! Based on her wonderful story “Kings Among Runaways”, which you guys can all read here :)