A/N: Ahh... Another year, another New Years Resolution, another year to add to my ever increasing age. I feel old and what better to welcome the New Year with a nice Sherlock/Joan fic. I couldn't quite help myself. I hope you guys enjoy this! Happy New Year to all (I know I'm a little late but I sort of got delayed in posting this - I blame alcohol).
Oh and I should also point out that the title of this fic was thanks to the song High Hopes by Kodaline. That's an awesome song by the way and was the inspiration for this little one shot.
Midnight is a minute away and the New Year right there with it. He can feel her standing close to him; her shoulder barely brushing against his every so often. He can feel her warmth radiating beside him even though the thick and cold snow is falling around them. He can feel her gloved hand brushing against his too and he supposes that it wouldn't be difficult to reach for it and hold it just this one time. He is almost certain that nobody would take notice judging from the way they are all so preoccupied with staring at that sparkling ball counting down the seconds to midnight.
The captain and his wife were before them huddled together, he imagined with eyes sparkling with delight and lips slightly chapped but yet smiling and laughing and utterly enjoying every moment. He could see detective Bell with his own partner, pointing and laughing and taking pictures of the slowly descending ball.
The presenter was babbling, the music was playing and the crowd was alive as ever to welcome in the New Year. Everyone except them who were both quiet and lingering, but yet smiling and enjoying every moment of being there but yet wishing every moment was spent in the quiet serenity of their brownstone.
He sometimes wonders what it would be like to be like everybody else and to utterly surrender to this occasion and drink and enjoy, forget and live entirely for that strike of midnight. He wonders if that would be what she would have wanted or wished for him to be. He wonders if perhaps that were some secret desire of hers that she would never utter to him for fear of destroying this relationship. He wonders if there are things like that, that she wonders and thinks about and wishes that he were instead of how he is now and always will be.
He wonders if at times he disappoints her and wonders if there are things he could do better. He wonders if she would want that or if she was just that accommodating enough to let him be as he is and continue like this for always. The trouble with it though is that he mostly doesn't care to waste his time thinking over the littler aspects of the emotional side of things. He wouldn't know if he was disappointing her in anyway way unless she told him. He was much more concerned with the other things of life which left him very little time to analyse his own.
He recognized the more obvious signs of disappointment though. But none of which are usually picked up by womankind. He loves her though, reminds her often so surely that was enough he would have thought. But then women always will be women. They will always need more reminding, more coddling, more of everything and yet little of some things.
He couldn't help but think though that all of the time they have been together, he couldn't once have thought she was anything like her kind. She didn't seem to advertise her need to be reminded and much preferred the quieter lifestyle he followed when there were little cases. She never seemed to mind that their designated date nights were spent sharing curry, talking every so often about themselves before returning to discussing finer matters to do with the case documents sprawled out between them.
She complained about the experiments he left in the fridge though or on the dining table and that he could understand. But gradually her complaints grew into little reminders or comments that she would make in passing on occasion; they were in occasions when she handed him his morning coffee or when she asked if he wanted eggs for breakfast or that she was going out for a run and would be back later and expected that his experiment would be cleaned out, removed or relocated elsewhere.
Maybe he is just over thinking this too much. Maybe he should just conclude with the fact that she loves him and he loves her and that is enough for him to really spend his time wondering about the deeper meaning, structure and implications of their relationship. Maybe he just needs to relax, enjoy the moment and be like everybody else.
But that wouldn't be who he is though. That wouldn't be the man she fell in love with. His desire to deduce, to reason and to understand were probably the characteristics that drew her to him in the first place. Though what is strange though now that he really thinks about it is that in all of this time they have been together, he has not once considered them, their relationship and where they were really going with this. He hasn't yet taken the time to think about it, calculate it, analyse and understand what they are and whether they always could be, them.
He thought about their friendship when she first moved in to be his sober companion. But once he trusted her he stopped and once he slept with her, it was like none of it really mattered. It was almost as if she had somehow grown into becoming this integral part of his being that he didn't quite know how he ever lived without. She was like the air he breathed, the sun to his day and the moon to his night. She was like the warmth in his veins when all was cold. She was like the little spark of hope that was left when all else was gone.
Her shoulder bumps into his all of a sudden accidentally and at first he thinks it was not without careful calculation on her part until he sees a man squeezing his way through the crowds. She returns to her normal stance beside him and he is now suddenly much aware of the fact that she is closer than ever. He takes notice of the time too; there is only 30 seconds remaining of 2013.
He supposes he could continue to wonder just why he hadn't considered this properly. But really it isn't really like that matters anymore. Their lives have become so intimately intertwined without them really having noticed despite their mutual unspoken decision to share the same bed. They have both become such great people and that is only because of what the both of them have shared together.
He needs her. That is simple and true and he accepts that, knows that and will not lie about it anymore. He will always need her. He needs her laughter, her smile, her intellect and reminder that life is actually better than he thought it was. But it would always only be better when she was there to share it with him.
He decides that he will make the most of it in these last 20 seconds of this year. He wants her to know that though he isn't the kind of partner that derives pleasure from showering her with public displays of affection, he still utterly loves her and is overflowing with pride that of everyone she knew; she is here with him.
He slides his gloved hand into hers and holds onto it and watches as the countdown counts from 20 to 10 before he turns to look at her. Her eyes are wide, she doesn't smile but she looks the happiest she has ever been. The seconds are counting down behind them and he stops listening when the chanting crowd reaches 5 seconds. He is far too occupied now. He leans down and pauses an inch away from her lips.
"Happy New Year, Joan," he tells her and doesn't give her a chance to respond when he presses his lips against hers.
The hold he has on her hand somehow develops into him sliding both his arms around her. The world is lost behind them and the crowd forgotten. All he can think now and all he revels in is that after the fireworks have settled down and the crowd all gone home, she will go home with him; he will be crawling into bed beside her. He would be the one that gets to hold her, the one that she will snuggle with and seek warmth and security from. He will be the one that'll get to kiss her whenever he wanted. He will be the one that will wake up beside her and the one that he was going to spend every single day of his life with from now on.
Who would have ever thought that he would be the one who could offer her so much without even trying?
Irene was an unforseen milestone in his life but Joan, she will be always.
end.