A/N: I was going to post this tonight, but tonight is the season finale and I don't think I'll be alive to do this. SO! here it is. Thank you for reading and reviewing. I love you guise

BE STRONG MY ELEMENTAPEEPS! TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT.

Fran

hugs to the amazing EuphoriaLily for being my beta.

She packed her things quickly into a suitcase, just what she needed for her six weeks of absence. Emily watched her from the door, her arms crossed against her chest, frowning as her friend threw another pair of jeans into her bag. She was judging, even though she had been open about Joan working with Sherlock. Joan knew Emily had more issues about it than she said.

"What if, what you mentioned about the being professional part, goes to hell?" Emily asked her. Joan glanced at her over her shoulder, and shrugged.

"It's not like I haven't lived with a man before." Joan told her.

"Yes, of course you have. But that's different." Emily continued. "You do have feelings for this man. Don't you think the temptation would be…too much?"

She had thought about it countless of times. How is her life going to be now that she and Sherlock would be living under the same roof? Would something happen between them? She could stop herself from thinking about it, because she knew she had to be professional, but what about him?

He had shown he was really interested in her staying with him, but was it just because he wanted to get better? Or was it because he wanted her by his side?

All she knew was there was no turn back time.

When she came downstairs that morning, very early, she found Sherlock shirtless, sitting Indian style surrounded by papers of an old case file. He didn't pay attention to her when she came down, his mind was too focused on the picture in his hand. Either way she couldn't help but stare at his naked back, and her mind briefly drifted away and dreamed at her hands running slowly up and down his body….

"Good morning." he spoke, his back still to her. She snapped out of her thoughts and walked towards where he was sitting.

"You're not dressed. You said you'd go jogging with me this morning."

"Doesn't sound like me." he responded, his eyes still glued to the picture in his hand.

"Have you been up all night?" she asked, approaching him a little bit more.

"I've been digging into my old case files, I lost track of time. Still losing track of it, as a matter of fact. So no jogging today."

"I thought we both agreed that a little exercise would be a good addition to your sobriety regiment."

"For future reference when I say I agree with you, it means I'm not listening." he told her. "At all. In any case, in any way." he turned around to look at her over his shoulder, she blushed slightly.

She didn't need to ask to know what he was talking about; the rules she had set for both of them to follow.

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." she whispered. He turned around to the picture again.

.

.

.

His head was resting against the wall behind him, his eyes closed and his breath even. She watched for a one, two, three seconds and couldn't help but smile at how adorable and innocent he looked. Not the feeling she was actually looking for or what she was supposed to feel, but she couldn't help it, not when he was right in front of her. For a brief moment she was tempted to reach out and touch his face with the tip of her fingers, just to feel his skin against her own again.

"I'm not sleeping." he spoke, though his eyes remained closed. "I'm just reviewing the details of the case in my mind."

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" she responded, taking a sit next to him. He raised his head to look at her. "I thought I was a cavernous space between two ears."

"You mustn't be so sensitive, Watson." he told her. "The service you're providing is quite valuable."

She lifted a cup of coffee to him, which he received contently and their fingers brushed ever so slightly. She couldn't ignore the shiver that ran down her spine at their brief touch and she was almost certain he must have felt it too, because his hand froze and his warm blue eyes locked with her for a tiny fraction of a second.

She swallowed hard and despite her brain telling her to look away, to even move away from him, her body seemed to have mind of its own and refuse to break away.

Their moment was interrupted by Gregson, who walked rapidly towards them. Sherlock got up from his sit the moment he walked passed them, following him and the group of cops outside.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a brief second before following him suit.

.

.

.

"You're gonna stay up all night again, aren't you?" she asked him as they dragged more and more boxes into the kitchen.

"You can't stop me, Watson." he told her. "I don't care how I look, I don't care how I smell. I'm not going to sleep."

"Well, I have no intention of stopping you." she responded, walking passed him towards the counters, pulling a glass out as he watched her like a hawk. He looked as tired as ever, but he was also stubborn as ever so there was no point in fighting. "I mean, what you're doing to your body isn't healthy, especially for someone so fresh out of rehab. I will happily loan you my ears if it means getting Mariana Castillo alive and well."

"I appreciate the offer but at the moment I do not require a listener." he told her. "But I will have nothing to talk about until I've reviewed all of these files."

"Alright then, then I'll take a box." She grabbed one of the ten boxes on the table, but he stopped her. His hand landing on top of hers. She swallowed hard, their eyes meeting again just like it happened this morning. He refused to look away, and she did too, her eyes glued to his.

She felt a warm feeling travelling up and down her body and her heart was beating fast inside her chest. If he could just move his hand away, if he could just move away from her all together everything would be easier. It would be easy for her to stop feeling anything for him at all.

"Sorry, it doesn't work like that." he whispered, slowly pulling his hand away, still staring at her.

"This need to go through me, not you."

"Okay, so I can help you stay awake."

"No." he responded quickly. "No, I'm sorry, Watson, but you are, in fact, becoming a distraction for me. I need time to process this and you being…around is making things…difficult."

She was taken aback by the boldness of his words, but he was also being completely honest, which was a plus one.

"Fine, then I'll just go."

"No." he told her quickly. "You can stay if you want…"

"I think…" she spoke, stepping away from him slowly, taking two slow steps backwards towards the door. "I think I should go. It's better if you work here alone, you're right. I guess the distraction is too much…for the both of us."

She walked away, Sherlock's eyes glued to her as she stepped out of the room.

.

.

.

The case was solved, a new criminal had been sent to jail, their job was done. His job was done, all that was left was tiredness. At least for him. Though he kept pretending he was not tired but his eyes deceived him, they closed every few seconds and he suppressed a yawn as they made their way home.

Now he sat on the floor, papers surrounding him, and she walked around the house closing curtains and doors to keep the light from coming in. He protested, obviously (he always did), but she didn't listen knowing he was too tired and he would give in any second. He did, just a few minutes after she had announced she had made tea for him. His head rested against the couch, legs stretched before him, mouth slightly ajar.

She watched him with a smile on her face. He looked peaceful and innocent, like a new Sherlock she didn't know (but loved).
Later the same night she slowly came downstairs to find him still sleeping on the floor. She couldn't stop herself from sweetly waking him up, and dragging him to the couch. He flashed a tired but warm smile before turning his back to her, falling asleep within seconds. Her hand brushed his head and she could have sworn she heard him moan, her heart skipped a beat at the sound.

The end!

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