A/N: This is the first time I'm writing for Elementary... I have to say I started watching this a few weeks ago and fell completely in love with this pairing and so I couldn't help but write this. I hope I managed to capture Sherlock's emotions the best to his character. It's rather difficult trying to think the way that he does... But either way I had fun writing this :). Listened to 'The Light' by The Album Leaf.
There's a line of sunlight that touches his face when he wakes that morning which is odd in itself because not once since he began sleeping on that couch did the sunlight ever wake him. He opens his eyes and is greeted with the very familiar window that only has its place in one room. He shifts his head on the pillow and confirms his location when he catches the smell of her shampoo all etched into the very fibre of the pillow.
Also it isn't hard to miss her familiar warmth radiating from behind him. He feels her face pressed into his back and for a fleeting moment he feels quite proud of himself. He feels like how he once felt a long time ago when Irene was still alive and well. He feels like a better man again and he really does owe it all to the woman sleeping behind him.
He doesn't sleep much in her room when there are cases that require his attention throughout the night. But on the off chances they get when things are particularly quiet he enjoys every moment of sleeping beside her.
There is a certain kind of warmth that she provides. The kind that makes him feel like he's achieved some kind of greatness. It's the kind of warmth that leaves his stomach bubbling with warmth and his heart floating on a cloud. It's all rather cliché and all those other things that one feels when one is in love. He admits it finally after so long. He owns up to it and he knows it because he once felt that way when he was with Irene.
He turns ever so slightly and when he finally faces her, he stills. The even hum of her breathing and the moderate pacing of her heartbeat let him know that she is still fast asleep. He traces her features with his gaze and he deduces just exactly what her first thought would be when she wakes later. He wonders if she'll be thinking about breakfast or whether she'll be thinking about tea. He wonders whether she'll kiss him when she finds him watching her or whether she'll look at him questionably and inquire as to why he is watching her. He always wonders all these things about her because for some reason or another she captures his world entirely. She is the one thing in this whole world that he manages to focus on completely without hesitation, doubt or uncertainty.
This leads him to wonder exactly what a life without her would be like. He deduces that it would be terrible, ghastly and something that mimics a nightmare. He doesn't want to imagine it and doesn't spend another moment thinking about it. He decides that he won't let anything ever happen to her. He won't ever let anything touch her for as long as he lives.
She moves a little in her sleep, shifts her arm and tucks it closer to her chest. She's still fast asleep judging from the steady inhales and exhales that manage to brush over his shoulder. He suddenly has the distinct need to hold her but he knows if he moves she'll wake. He knows if he so much as breathes a little louder, she'll wake. She's at that point when she's nearing conciousness and it's usually by this point when he takes his leave. He normally doesn't waste time lying around in bed after he wakes most days. But sometimes there are exceptions because sometimes there are days when he feels particularly captured by her. Those are also the days when he spends a little more time thinking about her. She doesn't know it of course. She's never caught him once imploring her in those mornings.
But when he watches her it is almost as if he is capturing every single detail about her. He's saving every moment, every second, minute and hour. He's building circuitry links in his brain from one neuron to another specifically so that he never forgets every moment he spends with her like this.
Watching her has become one of his latest new found hobbies. It's much the same as when he puts aside time to watch all seven televisions at once. There is something about her that manages to hold his attention for quite a long period of time. The first time he found himself watching her, it scared him because he thought it was pulling him further away from Irene's memory. But then he deduced after a while that perhaps this was his way of finally coming to terms with Irene's death. He was finally letting the memory of Irene go. Though once upon a time he would have cursed himself for even letting himself do so, he admits that he feels a lot better these days than he ever has been for a long time.
He found something in Joan that he found in Irene so long ago. He found a woman that somehow seemed worthy of his utter emotional attention. There was an alluring smell about Joan that moved him too much in the same way Irene did. And he admits now that he really is a better man when he has someone to share this life with.
He leans a little bit closer and does something so very unlike him. He nudges her nose with his and then he kisses her while her eyes flutter, blurry eyed and still stained with sleep. It doesn't take her long before she returns the kiss and almost as soon as she does he pulls back, settles on the pillow and looks at her. She looks slightly surprised and he doesn't really blame her. He has never woken her up with a kiss before. But in his defence, she would have stirred from sleep in the next few minutes had he not woken her up anyway.
He smiles simply and doesn't say anything.
He finally gets it when he's looking into her eyes. He finally understands what makes her better. He wasn't completely better with Irene. He made a connection with her and that much was true. But he was still lost, he was still trying to find that thing that completed him. But then as soon as his connection with Irene had begun, he lost her and then he lost everything entirely.
But with Joan now, he was better.
He slides his hand into hers and holds her hand and holds her gaze right there.
With Joan, he is better.