Sherlock had been on the way home from a particularly annoying case with Lestrade and Donovan, And while snide comments were the least of his worries, the case had disappointed him as far as complication. It was simple, though he'd told Joan that he'd be out until late. He didn't bother to text, deciding that anything Joan could be doing at home didn't need to be stopped because he returned. Instead, he texted away at Lestrade, sending scalding remarks about Sally and the fact that his time had been wasted.

The ride wasn't too long or boring, and for Sherlock it was mildly calming. The rain pattered against the roof of the cab, leaving the sidewalks and unlucky people walking along damp. He sighed and only pulled his gaze from the window when the cab stopped. He paid with little to no regard for the driver, then stalked up to the door and then up to the flat with hasty, quiet steps.

The music that played behind the door piqued his curiosity as he neared the door, making him pause before he pushed it open, striving to keep his steps as close to silent as possible. As he opened the door, the lyrics of what sounded like a pop song hit his ears;

Girls hit your hallelujah...Girls hit your hallelujah…

Sherlock toed off his shoes and looked around for any sign of Joan, knowing she wouldn't have just up and left this… god awful music playing for Sherlock to return to. Instead, he crept towards the kitchen with interest, only to stop in his tracks and gape at what was Joan Watson.

'Cause uptown funk 'gon give it to you

Saturday night and we in the spot

Don't believe me just watch!

As the song hit it's clear chorus of a deeper tone of voice and a chorus of others, Joan's hips begun to move in time with the beat, her head nodding along with them as she danced- oblivious to Sherlock's presence. The Holmes boy stood still and silent, watching the scene with a faint grin playing on his lips, his earlier exasperation forgotten as he watched the woman roll her shoulders in a clear attempt at an older 90s type dance, though her hands were restricted with the dishes she held.

Stop, wait a minute

Fill my cup, put some liquor in it

Take a sip, sign a check

Julio, get the stretch

Sherlock couldn't hide his amusement as Joan started singing along. By that time, he had tuned out the horrid music and was instead focusing solely on his own pop star Joan Watson. She couldn't seem to stop dancing for anything as she continued washing the dishes, nearing the end of the mountain of dirty plates and cutlery.

I'm too hot

Called a police and a fireman

I'm too hot

Make a dragon wanna retire man

I'm too hot

Bitch say my name you know who I am

I'm too hot

Am I bad 'bout that money

Break it down

The chorus began building again, and on the last line of Girls hit your hallelujah,Joan's singing was abruptly cut off as she held the spoon under the water the wrong way and soaked the front of her jumper and the edge of the counter. She cursed, a rare occurrence unless genuinely upset, and shut off the tap quickly, holding the bottom of her jumper out to inspect it. With a sigh she turned to lower the music on her phone so she could clean up, and that's when she spotted Sherlock.

The blush that rose onto her cheeks was from both embarrassment and shock, though the shock eased steadily into annoyance.

"Sherlock! I didn't realize you'd gotten home, I uh...how long-?" She stammered, quickly shutting off the music.

"Long enough to see you call Lestrade and the firemen." He hummed evenly, the humour in his voice teasing.

Joan huffed a laugh as she hastily tucked the phone into her pocket,"Sorry. I just need to change real quick. I'll have to go to the shops tomorrow- Speedys sound alright?" She paused on her way out of the door, poking an accusing finger into his shoulder,"And yes, Sherlock, you're eating. The last thing you had was toast and tea two days ago."

Sherlock merely pursed his lips in place of a smile as he turned away to strip himself of the coat for the time being. Joan rolled her eyes and went up to her room to change. Sherlock took up his usual position on the couch, doing whatever it was he found relevant on his phone as he waited in silence.

It was 7.36 seconds before Joan returned quietly, but Sherlock saw the shake of her head as she passed and his eyes narrowed.

"What?" He asked sharply, his phone momentarily forgotten.

"I've gotten the song stuck in your head, have I?" She asked with a grin.

Sherlock started to demand what she was carrying on about when he became aware of the pad of his foot tapping the melody of the song into the wood. He scowled and turned his face back to his phone without a word, making Joan bite her lip to stifle a giggle.

She went back to the kitchen and resumed the dishes, humming a new song softly to herself. Sherlock had long before dropped his head onto the arm of the couch and shut his eyes, slipping into his mind palace to the soothing sounds of whatever song Joan had picked up. Even with work on his mind, he couldn't seem to pry himself away from the more...quiet moments with the Watson girl. Intimate was a word he saved strictly for more literal things.

"Sherlock, did you get milk?" Joan's voice slipped into his head as a memory.

"No, it grew legs and walked itself here."

Joan had chuckled fondly,"I wouldn't be surprised."

Sherlock had scoffed before falling silent again, trying to retreat to his mind palace to think about a case he had been working on when he'd felt Joan's hand pat his shoulder gently,"Thanks, Sherlock."

He had stayed silent and still, letting her walk out of the room before he had opened his eyes and stared up at nothing while he thought.

Sherlock had, after that moment, occasionally tried to help out around the house. Whether it was cleaning up a bit of the table for dinner or buying something or cleaning up after his experiments, he had been rewarded for each little chore with a pat on the shoulder or the ruffling of his hair and a 'Thank you'- all rolled with one of Joan's bright smiles. He did love her smile, no matter how much he tried to deny it. It wasn't something fake or cold or forced, but rather warm and...dare he say loving. He would never admit to anyone-especially Joan- that he would press up into her touch the slightest bit, and even miss it when she carried on with whatever she was doing.

He'd spent the next ten minutes after Joan had stopped humming replaying the quiet, tender sound in his head. All the while he ran through each compliment or remark she'd made towards him.

"That was fantastic, Sherlock!"

"Brilliant. You're bloody brilliant, Sherlock."

"God, you're amazing, Sherlock. I don't know how you do it."

The smile on Sherlock's lips was faint, but it showed. He was, to put it simply happy for once. He knew what Joan had done to him since she'd moved in. Even without her shouting to get out when he'd mistakenly intruded on her bath, or taking her mobile without explanation, she'd made him a better man. Yet another thing he would never admit.

And then, her voice was real, speaking to him in soft, idle tones.

"What's going on in that brain of yours, Sherlock?" She said in a voice that resembled a fond murmur,"Making you smile like that. Must be nice."

Sherlock stayed still and silent. He made no attempt to keep the smile on his face.

It came naturally.