"Do you have change for a ten, preferably in ones?" Watson asks as she comes up next to Sherlock who is working away at his computer.
"I thought we broke you of that nasty strip bar habit." He says reaching for his wallet while never taking his eyes off the screen.
She smirks, "Ha ha very funny."
He opens his wallet and Joan smiles. "Is that a photo of me? You carry my picture in your wallet?"
Holmes looks down, slightly embarrassed, takes out the change and closes the wallet up, "Oh, that. Yes, I keep it for emergency purposes, APBs, corpse identification and the like ... Here." They exchange money and hidden half smiles. She heads out the door.
She comes back a few minutes later licking at her ice cream cone and hands him a popsicle that she has unwrapped for him. "They were all out of cherry, so I got you grape instead."
A bouncy nod and an "mmmmmm" serve as his thank you to her.
.OoOoO.
Another long night, Sherlock looks at Watson and sees just how exhausted she is, but still reviewing data, doing her best. The case isn't particularly pressing. No lives hang in the balance.
"Right, that's it then," he says loudly. "We're done for the night."
"What? But we aren't even close to a solution." Joan protests.
"Come on, up you go." He helps her up and they start walking towards the stairs. She protests again and he puts a hand on her back as they walk upstairs. He reassures her, "It's alright luv, it'll all still be there in the morning ..."
.OoOo.
Sherlock is in the kitchen scrambling a huge bowl of eggs. Watson comes in and crosses her hand in front of him reaching for a mug. "Excuse me, babe."
He stops and turns to look at her, a look of pain crosses his face. "Did you just call me "babe?" Holmes pronounces the word with utter disgust.
Watson sort of apologizes, "Sorry. Don't know where that came from." Playfully, she continues, "What term of endearment would you prefer? Dearie, honey, sweetie, darling, lambkins, pookie-bear... " She smiles as she continues to goad looks of derision and horror from him. "I used to call my brother baby-cakes."
"Well, if you must," Sherlock says with a sigh, "I have always been partial to "m'lord." He shoots her a sideway glance and nods his head.
"Alright then, excuse me, m'lord." Watson grabs her mug and turns toward the tea kettle.
He smiles "As you were wench..." and continues scrambling.
oOOo.
Watson comes down to the study around midnight to find Holmes dozing at his desk, head resting on his arms. She takes the blanket from the back of the sofa and gently places it on him, making sure the back of his neck is covered. She goes up to bed.
He wakes up later in the night with a start, feels the blanket around his shoulders and relaxes a bit as he wraps it a little closer around himself and continues his research.
oOoo.
Sherlock has just about finished what passes for packing to him. He is being sent by the NYPD to assist with a case in Albany. Joan is staying behind to finish work on one of their private cases. Neither is happy about the situation. It's their first time apart and they aren't sure for how long they will be apart.
"Okay, the cab is here," she tells him as he comes down the stairs.
He looks at her and reminds her once more, "Don't take any unnecessary risks. I'm a phone call away or just text if you need me."
Watson nods and says, "Same goes for you." He nods and they start walking to the door.
Joan starts, "I just wish ... we could work both cases together."
"I know" he says. Their eyes meet and lock.
The cabbie honks his horn startling both of them.
Joan gives his arm a squeeze, "Have a safe trip, m'lord," she says as she smiles at him.
He radiates a smile, "Thank you, wench." Sherlock leans in for a quick hug, whispering in her ear, "Stay safe, luv," before he rushes to the waiting cab.