Acrostic - The Last Dance - Sherlock

Silence filled the room with anticipation right before the needle hit the record,
A quiet melody replacing the quiet, yet increasing the air of expectancy.
Velvet steps, cat-like, closing in on John, all fluent, rehearsed, as if for this;
Evening like no other, lovers', the music curling around the men like silk.

Taking John's hand, Sherlock bowed, inviting with a smile in his eyes,
Hearts joining in time with their bodies finding each nook to cling to,
Each heartbeat in rhythm with the luring music, feet shuffling, gazes gleaming.

Lowering his head to John's shoulder, yet never taking his arms from around him,
Astonished, once again, how the scent of his lover could make his heart skip a beat,
Sherlock held on tighter, a speck of intuition perhaps flitting through his mind.
The trepidation in Sherlock's chest was not chased away, not by music, not by John.

"Dance with me, John. Always," he murmured, gaining a contemplative look,
A step back and a frown, then a smooth stride back into the embrace.
"Never will I stop, if that's what you want. Is that what you want? Sherlock?"
Ceasing their steps, contradicting everything said, the men stood and turned deaf.
Everplaying music forgotten, the very chords were tugged in their chests; Love.

"Forever, John, if there is such a thing. At least as long as there comes the time to die."
One glance over Sherlock's façade, and John's stance changed. Suddenly a soldier.
"Really, Sherlock. So morbid on a night like this. What aren't you telling me?"

"Music, John. Listen to it. Someone just walked over my grave, that's all."
Even with these words, because of these words, now all was left was the last dance.

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