The steady whirring of the hair clipper permeated the silence, as Sherlock's cut hair fell on the floor and his bare shoulders. He stared at the laptop in front of him, following the ongoing stream of comments with multiple laughing emojis and the excessive use of exclamation marks. Obviously the members of Everyone were having the time of their lives.
Sherlock glanced at Joan on the screen. Her straight posture and the look on her face told him that she was giving his scalp her full attention. With a surgeon's, precision she slowly ran the hair clipper across his head, avoiding any nicks and cuts. Yes, he was in good hands.
Sherlock pursed his lips as he took in his surroundings; the laptop streaming a live video, the hair clipper against his scalp, loose hair tickling his shoulders, Joan standing in very close proximity, her left hand gently stroking the nape of his neck...
He shrieked and shrugged, making her flinch and lift her hands in the air.
"Gosh, try to stay still, okay?" she exclaimed, pulling the clipper away from his head. "We don't need any Sweeney Todd situations here."
Sherlock smirked at her musical reference and brushed the loose hair from his shoulders.
"Sorry, I'm not trying to inflict any self-harm I just, um... the hair on my shoulders felt... uncomfortable," he muttered and fixed his posture on the chair.
Joan smiled at the thought of Sherlock being ticklish, but decided to drop it. He would never admit any of his imperfections anyway. She resumed her work and exhaled slightly. Soon she laid her hand back on the nape of his neck. Probably Joan didn't even realize what she was doing. Her hand was warm and soft, her fingers making tiny circles around the short hair.
Sherlock stiffened slightly and bit his lip, but eventually leaned against her touch and let out a deep breath. Yes, he was in good hands.
After a while, Joan turned off the hair clipper and put the machine back into the paper bag.
"There's still a stubble, so you might want to finish it with a razor later on," she explained and brushed the last bits of loose hair from the top of his head.
"Yes, thank you, Watson," Sherlock said and cleared his throat. "And sorry for... not being there when you were released from that diner last night. I was–"
"It's okay," she cut him off and put her hand on his shoulder for reassurance. "I'm okay."
Sherlock got up from the chair to face her, looking at her from head to toe. "We should have talked about this earlier."
Joan smiled and looked at the floor. "There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine." She patted on his shoulder and was already leaving when Sherlock's hand around her wrist stopped her. With teary eyes, he looked at Joan in the eye. She took a step back to him.
"I'm fine, really," she said and smiled.
Sherlock lifted her hand to his chest, staring at her in the eye.
"I should never have left you to that diner," he said and gulped. "You shouldn't have come inside in the first place."
"I had a choice, and I decided to come with you," Joan said and smiled to him, spreading her hand on his chest. "As it was my choice to stay behind too."
"I left you there, standing at gun point. I couldn't keep you safe for the first time when..." He took a ragged breath. "Le Milieu and all. But now I had a chance, but I failed to–"
"It wasn't fault. Any of it," she said and stepped closer to him. "I was the one who said it was fine for me to stay. And besides, this was nothing like the time when I was... well, you know."
"I was scared, Watson. I was so scared I wouldn't see you ever again."
"Sherlock..."
"The thought kept infiltrating my mind the whole day and... it distracted me," he explained, holding her hand tight. "And when I had finally solved the case, I was so... so happy. But then Marcus came in and–"
"The time had run out," she finished his sentence.
Sherlock nodded and pursed his lips, his gaze now fixating on the wall in front of him.
Joan put her free hand on his shoulder, looking up at his face. "You did your best, I'm sure you did."
"I glanced at the clock on the precinct wall. At that moment it felt like my chest had collapsed. I-I... I couldn't breathe and I was sure that you..." he was now taking short breaths, his eyes brimming with tears. "I was sure he had shot you."
"But he didn't," she said and cupped his cheek with her hand. "I'm right here. I'm safe and alive. And that is all what matters."
Sherlock nodded and finally had enough courage to wrap his arms around her and pull her to his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair.
"It's okay," she reassured him. Joan felt his warm, hairy skin beneath her cheek, as the beating of his heart resonated in her ears.
"I was scared too, but what it's worth, Mr. Brunelle wasn't going to kill me."
Sherlock stiffened and pulled away from her. "What do you mean?"
"He wasn't going to shoot me. He didn't even have enough ammunition to kill twenty people. He was only there to bring justice to his son," Joan explained.
Sherlock shook his head. "You can never predict what one person is going to do next," he explained and cupped her cheeks. "Sometimes, a person doesn't even know himself what he's going to do next." He looked at her in the eye and smiled. "Just like a moment ago, I had no idea I was going to do this..."
Joan furrowed her brows, but before she could say anything, Sherlock crushed his lips against hers.
She was stunned at first, but as Joan finally realized what has happened, she returned to his passionate kiss, and wrapped her arms slowly around his neck.
Sherlock kept kissing her hungrily and with such passion that Joan's legs almost gave in. As her footing faltered, he guided her against the wall behind her, giving him an advantage to deepen the kiss.
A sigh escaped from her lips as he slipped his fingers into her silky, ebony hair, his hands exploring the curves of her scalp. Sherlock's tongue graced Joan's lower lip as it nudged her lips, seeking for an entrance.
As his hands slid down and around her hips and waist, she pulled him closer, arching her body into his.
Kissing each other ardently, her fingers running along his bare scalp, and his hands roaming around Joan's silky clad midriff, their breathing was getting more and more erratic by the second.
"Oh, Sherlock," she sighed, as they pulled away from the kiss to catch their breath, still holding each other.
"Watson, I–" he started, but was cut off by Joan, pulling him down for another kiss and parting her lips for his seeking tongue.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her blouse from under her belt, his hands finally finding the soft skin of Joan's stomach and back.
The smell of her perfume was intoxicating, surging Sherlock to nuzzle his face into her neck.
"I was so scared," he mumbled as he trailed amorous kisses along her neck, Joan running her hands on his bare back.
"It's okay," Joan breathed as she licked the taste of him from her swollen lips. "We're okay."
"I was so worried," Sherlock breathed and pulled her lips to his once again. He kept exploring her smooth skin on her midriff with his hands as Joan pulled him closer against her.
"Sherlock," she mumbled between his kisses on her jaw and lips. "The laptop the video..."
Sherlock pulled Joan towards the cupboard, still kissing her, and with one hand he slammed the device shut.
They made their way towards the bathroom door and through the hallway, where Joan finally pushed the door open to her room. Along the way her shoes and both of their belts were discarded on the floor. His trousers and her pencil skirt quickly followed.
Sherlock pulled Joan's blouse over her head with a swift motion, throwing it on the floor, along with her bra, which he unclasped with one hand.
"Where have you learned that trick?" she asked seductively and took his face between her hands, kissing him once again.
"I'll explain later," he mumbled and tossed away the black, lacey piece of clothing. "Right now, I have other things in my mind."
Joan burst into giggles as he lifted her up, nuzzling his lips against her chest.
She wrapped her legs around her waist, gently brushing her lips against his temple.
Eventually Sherlock guided them towards her bed, his boxers and her panties soon lying on the floor.
"Oh, my dear Watson," he sighed and joined her in the bed as Joan's giggles echoed in the room.