I hadn't written any Elementary fanfiction yet and welllll

my friend twobagelscollide gave me this adorable idea for Sherlock taking Joan on a date by faking a whole case that leads them into purposely romantic situations and at the end there's like Joanlock realization so

omg sorry I just can't resist x"D

Anyways, I'm going to try and update on the actual days starting today, and there will be five chapters. ;P

wahhhh i'm sorry if i screwed anything up btw c"x i feel sure that i did somehow

December 20

Sherlock didn't wake up, but that was because he didn't sleep. At 1 AM in the morning, after having made several extremely productive phone calls, he was not feeling inclined to simply doze off. He almost had this set up. Now if Captain Gregson would just be cooperative…

"Sherlock?" The sleepy voice from the stairs momentarily surprised him; he turned and raised his eyebrows as Joan came down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing up this late?"

"Not sleeping" he replied, somewhat flippantly, switching his phone off with one hand. The small movement caught her eye, but she was tired and didn't make anything of it.

"Go to bed," she said bluntly, pushing past him to the sink. The ripple of running water filled the otherwise-silent kitchen. He didn't turn around, but could imagine her reaching over to shut the water off, raising the glass to her lips and sipping.

"I'm serious, Sherlock," she said tiredly, setting the glass down on the counter with a soft clunk and walking back over to the stairs. "I'm coming down to check on you in an hour if the lights are still on."

Sherlock sighed inwardly as she began making her way back up the stairs. He knew she would keep her word, too. And he would hate to deal with a sleep-deprived Watson tomorrow, not when he had so much planned for her.

Ah, well. A hour would be plenty of time to wrap up preparations. He returned his gaze to his phone and began sending texts again.

"Sherlock?" Joan turned over in her bed and glared sleepily at Sherlock, who bounced up from leaning over her bed and rubbed his hands together.

"Oh, good, you're awake," he said briskly. "There's a new case that requires our attention."

Joan groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Four-thirty sharp," said Sherlock cheerfully. "And we're expected at the station in an hour. Really, Watson, aren't you used to this by now?"

"I should be," muttered Joan, taking the clothes that he had laid out for her and disappearing beneath the sheets. "But I'm not!" she added, her voice muffled by fabric.

"Of course," said Sherlock softly, rocking back on his heels impatiently as he waited for her to finish. His phone beeped, and he glanced down at its screen distractedly.

Gregson:

All right, I'll go along with it, God help me. You better not hurt Joan, you hear?

Sherlock smirked and deleted the text as Joan's head emerged from the covers. If this went well- and he fully intended it to- Gregson would have absolutely no reason to worry.

She came into the hallway as he was fixing his scarf, brushing past him to pull her coat down from its hook and pull it on.

"Ready to go?" he asked, unnecessarily, and she gave a quick nod, pulling the hat over her ears because it was cold out. He noticed the new boots; they looked sturdy and would certainly withstand the snow, but would also most likely be worn out and unusable by next year. He decided not to mention it, instead straightening his jacket and striding to the door.

"Shall we?"

And the two of them broke out into the street, the cold air hitting their faces and brief snowflakes melting on their skin. A brief smile flashed on her face before she became all business again, keeping pace with him effortlessly as they walk through the snowy roads.

"So, what is this case about?" she asked, looking slightly up at him as the sharp wind blew her hair all around her face, peeking out from her hat like a disobedient child. Sherlock suppressed a smile and launched into acting mode.

"Some very important files were stolen from the police base, last night," he said seriously. Joan immediately looked hard at him, confusion flashing briefly in her intelligent eyes.

"The NYPD?" she asked. "That seems pretty unlikely. Somebody broke in, then?"

"I was surprised too," said Sherlock casually, the hand in his pocket tracing the corner of his cell phone. I hope Gregson did it right. "Apparently the thief wore gloves and left very little evidence."

"What files did he take?" asked Joan, brushing a strand of hair our of her eyes.

"Technically, he didn't take anything." Sherlock paused for dramatic effect as Joan furrowed her eyebrows. "The thief was carrying his cell phone. It's suspected that he scanned and saved the contents of the file onto his phone." He blinked and shrugged slightly. "Very sneaky. He didn't cause a big scene."

He watched Joan's eyes widen in realization.

"But… that's going to be almost impossible," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "It could be anyone!" She glanced around at the busy New York streets, overflowing with Christmas shoppers and tourists.

"We have a list of five suspects, from Gregson," said Sherlock. Suspects that I made up. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly skimmed through the five photographs that he had taken in the last week, watching Joan worriedly as she took the phone and flipped through the pictures. This was the moment that she could become suspicious. Would she recognize his homeless network?

"They look nothing alike," was Joan's only comment, handing the phone back to him. Sherlock breathed a silent sigh of relief. So far, so good. "So… now we just have to track these people down?"

"You make it sound easy," said Sherlock, with a touch of amusement. And believe me, if things go according to plan, this will be anything but easy.

Gregson shot Sherlock a sharp look as the pair walked into the police base, Joan reaching up casually to brush some snow off of Sherlock's hat. He gave Gregson the slightest of smirks and winked.

"So… these very important files," said Joan, shoving her gloves in her pocket. "What are they about?"

Sherlock froze and watched the slightest flicker of confusion dart across Gregson's face before he relaxed.

"That's classified information," he said, shrugging as Joan glared at him.

"But we're solving the case!"

"Still classified." Sherlock realized that Gregson really didn't know. That was probably a good thing, considering what the files actually were.

"Come along, Watson," said Sherlock briskly, hustling her away from Gregson. Everything's going to be fine. But, well, it's always good to take precautions. And I can't trust Gregson to be that sneaky.

He could swear he heard the man laughing behind his back.

"So… this first guy," said Joan curiously as they started out on the streets again. It had stopped snowing, and the sky had cleared to a kind of bright white.

"Roy Lincoln," said Sherlock, glancing down at his phone, even though he had already memorized all of the "fake" information. "He's twenty-nine years old, hasn't got much money and lives alone."

"Why d'you think he might have taken the info?" asked Joan, peering at the photograph of the young man. "He looks younger than twenty-nine," she added as an afterthought. Sherlock chose to ignore this, pleased at her perception. He's seventeen. But twenty-nine is more credible. Joan gave the face one last look.

"The files have to do with some sensitive information about the NYPD," improvised Sherlock, and Joan gave him a quick look. "A case that got hushed up a while ago. All five of these suspects have some kind of grudge against the police."

"I thought this was classified information," said Joan. Sherlock forced himself to laugh and roll his eyes.

"Come now, Watson, when have I ever abided by Captain Gregson's rules?"

Joan gave him a strange look, but appeared to drop the topic after a moment.

"So… you think that these people want to use the info as blackmail," she clarified.

"Right."

Joan thought about it for a moment. "What's Roy's grudge, then?" she asked as Sherlock stopped by the side of the road.

"His mother was put into jail for stealing money from her ex-husband's business," Sherlock said. Joan stepped up beside him and yelled for a taxi. "Apparently Roy is still trying to prove them wrong. He's always looking for cases that the police make mistakes on."

"Seems pretty extreme," commented Joan, opening the door of the taxi that had pulled up. "I wouldn't do that for my mother."

Sherlock paused, then shrugged, simply sitting down next to her.

"Where to?" asked the taxi driver casually, leaning back over the front seat.

"Do you know the Candle Cafe?" asked Sherlock. "Upper East Side."

"Does Roy Lincoln work here?" Sherlock asked politely, placing one hand on the counter. He turned, looking for Joan- want to have her conduct this interview- and saw her chatting with a handsome man near the window. Sherlock made a series of snap decisions. She's familiar with this person, but on her guard- ex-boyfriend OH she's smiling more than usual and he's laughing more than usual he thinks he has another chance with her should probably go and get her before problems happen.

Not waiting for the overweight man behind the counter to reply, he pushed himself away and strode over to the window where the two of them were standing.

"-just came back to New York on business," said the man, sounding as far away from business as possible, at the moment. Joan smiled before spotting Sherlock; he saw a trace of nervousness flit across her face.

"Alec, this is Sherlock Holmes." she introduced quickly. "My work partner and teacher. Sherlock, this is Alec Hanson."

"Nice to meet you," said Alec, offering Sherlock a warm smile that Sherlock didn't return. "Joanie, a work partner? I thought you were a sober companion?" Shows how much you know. He hasn't kept in touch with her recently and dated her after she was a surgeon, while she was a sober companion, broke up with her in a friendly way since they're talking together now. He pushed down a flash of annoyance.

"I work solving crimes now," said Joan, the pride in her voice making Sherlock feel warm inside. "Sherlock's teaching me." Alec looked at Sherlock cautiously.

"You work with him, then… you're not, like…?"

Sherlock resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. Joan looked puzzled for a second before realizing.

"Oh! No, we're not like that," she said easily. Alec looked more relieved than he had a right to be. Sherlock decided that this had gone far enough. Grabbing Joan's arm, he gave Alec a smile that he knew was obviously fake.

"Yes, now, if you'll excuse us, we're on a case right now," he said quickly, tugging on Joan's arm. She looked surprised, giving him a confused look.

"Oh, okay," Alec started to say, but Sherlock was already pulling Joan away rather forcefully. Once they were back at the counter, he let go before she could shake him off.

"What was that all about?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

"He was wasting our time," he said briskly. She gave him a glare that morphed into a look of realization. He stared at her for a second, wondering what it was she had thought of.

"Sherlock…" she started. "You're not jealous, are you?"

Ouch. A little too close to the truth for comfort. He arranged his features into a look of blunt surprise.

"Jealous? Jealous of what?" he inquired, faking confusion. She shook her head slightly, giving him an uncomfortably intelligent look.

"Like… me, and him." She let out a tiny sigh. "Like, would you have a problem if I started dating someone.."

Yes, very much so. "Of course not. Wherever did you get that idea?" He raised his eyebrows as she shrugged, blinking a few times. He felt like she was trying to see through his head.

"Just a thought."

"Watson, your love life is not my concern in the least," he said in his crispest tone, turning away. "Now, if you don't mind, we have an investigation to conduct here. Perhaps we can resume this conversation about emotions another time." Hopefully, it won't be necessary.

"Of course." He had the satisfaction of seeing the faintest blush on her cheeks as she walked up to stand beside him. While they had been talking, the fat man in the apron had apparently called "Roy Lincoln" from the back room.

"Lovers' quarrel, eh?" he said, smirking at Joan's and Sherlock's twin looks of surprise.

"Hardly," said Sherlock. "Is this Mr. Lincoln?"

"That's me," said "Roy", giving Sherlock a little wink from behind the fat man's shoulder before coming forward. Sherlock looked to Joan, making it clear that it would be her job to ask the questions. She seemed a little flustered.

"Were you near the NYPD police base on December 19th at all?" she asked.

"Yeah, in the evening." Joan looked interested, glancing once at Sherlock. "I was walking back from work here. I work as a waiter."

"When does your shift end?" asked Joan.

"8:30," said Roy quickly. Right before the crime happened. "I always pass the police base on my way home."

"I saw him go," put in the fat man.

"Did you go in the building at all?" Joan asked sharply.

"Nope, I went straight home," said Roy.

"When did you get home?"

"8:45," said Roy. Fifteen minutes before the crime. "My girlfriend was in the apartment, she'd tell you that I was there." Nice touch. Roy appeared to be having fun with the part he was playing. Joan glanced at Sherlock again.

"We'll check with her, too," Sherlock said. "Did you notice anything strange happening near the police base at all?"

"Nope," said Roy, shrugging. "People go in and out of there all the time, though, would be pretty easy for the guy to sneak in."

"True." said Joan.

"Anything else you want to say?" asked Sherlock.

"Nope," said Roy again. "Good luck solving your crime!" Sherlock winked at him. He gave Sherlock a thumbs-up, which confused Joan.

One down, four to go.