Coffee. Stat.

I adore my spouse for many reasons, one being that he buys me slash romance for my birthday! XD

“Come on!” Molly ordered, seizing one of Sherlock’s hands and pulling him into the end of the line.

Sherlock stumbled through the first couple of dances, but his fellow dancers were very forgiving and laughter was rife.  By the third dance, he’d learned enough of the moves to be able to follow the caller’s instructions.  Sherlock found himself smiling despite himself, as he twirled Molly under his arm and passed her to another partner before being caught up in a do-si-do.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the familiar sight of John’s broad shoulders...

“Oh good,” Molly exclaimed as they entered the long room and into a swirl of colour and noise.  A small stage for the six-person band was set up at one end.  Chairs and plastic folding tables occupied the other.  It left a large space clear for the dancers.  Quite a few couples were lined up dancing, though Sherlock noticed with interest that they weren’t segregated by gender: women were partnered with women as well as men, and vice versa.  There were also a few gender-indeterminate individuals scattered along the line...

Sherlock stared into the mirror, styling and restyling his fringe with his fingers.  He was aiming for ‘effortlessly sexy’ but instead kept ending up with ‘shaggy dog.”  He growled, intending to find a pair of scissors to rectify the situation, but was fortunately forestalled by a knock from outside.  He gave one last disgusted look at the mirror before hurrying to open the door.

Molly was standing on the miniscule porch, waiting. She’d exchanged her usual jeans and flannel for a pretty, tea-length red dress covered with flowers, and braided her hair up into a crown.  Black, t-strap character shoes, red lipstick and a matching white shawl completed the outfit... 

Sherlock blinked again, his mind rapidly shifting through various replies.  Indulging Molly’s obvious pash for him had proven useful thus far for getting her cooperation.  It wouldn’t be a hardship to go dancing with her, as long as she didn’t expect him to try and kiss her goodnight.  And hadn’t John also said something about Contra dancing?  Or at least appreciating the music?  There was a chance, however faint, that John might also appear at the dance and if he did, maybe Sherlock could convince him to listen to his apology... 

Title: The Devil’s Blaze

Rating: E (eventually)

Relationship: Eventual Sherlock/John

Genre: Rodeo!lock AU! Casefic/Action/Adventure/Romance

Synopsis: Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only Consulting Equestrian Expert, is the individual called when horse owners are out of their depth.  At the behest of his elder brother, Sherlock travels to Amarillo, Texas, to investigate why a valuable bucking stallion has seemingly gone berserk for no reason and killed his trainer.  The local authorities suspect the owner fraud and possible animal abuse, but Mycroft sees parallels to an unsolved case from the 1980s wherein a racehorse killed a stableman. Complicating the situation is John Watson: bronco rider, rodeo veterinarian and one of case’s primary suspects…

“I found her!”

Sherlock ran forward, following the sound of raised voices.  He found a huddle of people standing near Barn F’s far corner.  The combined torches created a beacon of light, illuminating a scene that made Sherlock’s heart lurch up into his throat.  

“No!  Don’t move her!” Molly snapped as Sherlock crouched down and reached a cautious hand out...

“Somehow,” Sherlock drawled, “I don’t think I’m the one who’s going to be risking arrest…” He leaned forward and snatched the dark wig and sunglasses from the woman’s head and face.  “Kitty Riley.”

“What?  Don’t you dare touch me!  I’ll have you up for battery!”

Sherlock grimaced.  “Straker’s trailer was clearly the target, but it’s impossible to tell what the culprit was after without taking a closer look.  I don’t suppose you have an inventory of the contents?”

“Actually, I do,” Ross replied, stepping up and peering through the open doorway.  “Probate lawyers are nasty that way.  I ordered a list made up just before we put everything in storage...” 

Sherlock nodded, pleased that Donovan was finally taking his argument seriously.  “Speaking of drugs, did you find any fingerprints on the syringe discovered at the accident site?”

“We did, but they were…weird.”

“Weird how?” Sherlock demanded, pouncing on Donovan’s answer like one of the ranch cats on a particularly active grasshopper.

Donovan blew out a breath of frustration on the other end of the line.  “There wasn’t a thumbprint on the plunger, like one would expect to find.  Instead the fingerprints were placed along the body of the syringe—”