Joan measured carefully, marking the walls before driving in the nails. She was adjusting the framed prints over her bed when she heard Sherlock clatter up the stairs, no doubt drawn by the noise and curious what she was up to. She suppressed a smile as he burst into the room.
"Watson!"
"Yes?" she said, turning to him, her face carefully neutral.
"I heard-Oh, you're decorating."
"Just something that caught my eye in the shop." She regarded the prints critically. Not fine art, but it did add a little something to her room she thought.
He nodded. "Ah, yes, very good." He looked at the pictures, then back at her. "I was - that is - I was working on the Noble case, and I wanted your opinion on something. Would you come have a look?"
"Of course," she replied, following him downstairs.
***
She spotted the nightstand in the window of an antiques shop while they were staking out a suspect's apartment. She went back for it later, alone, tired of the lamp teetering on the chair she repurposed as a table. This one was wonderful - worn but solid, with drawers and lots of rooms for books next to the lamp. She and Ms. Hudson managed to get it up the stairs without too much trouble.
"You didn't want one of your old nightstands?" Sherlock asked when he noticed the new addition.
She shook her head. "No, I wanted something new. Well, new to me anyway."
"Ah, I see," he replied, nodding sharply. "Did you read the book I left for you on haptic communication?" And he was off on a tangent about cultural differences in body language.
About a week later, she found a fresh stack of notepads and pencils in the drawer, and a new pile of books for her on top.
***
He didn't mention the new wool throw blanket she had draped over the back of the chair in her room, but she smiled when she awoke to find him dozing in the chair with the blanket wrapped around him.
***
She stopped short in the doorway to her room, astonished. A beautiful, new wooden bookcase stood against one of the walls. A few books were already stacked on the shelves - she recognized some of her favorites from Sherlock's collection.
"Sherlock?"
He appeared behind her, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, radiating energy.
"Did you-?"
He nodded. "I thought it would help with your studies." He walked over to the shelves, scrutinizing the books he had placed there. "And that you might like it?" he added, looking back at her inquisitively.
She walked over to run her hands over the wood lightly. "You made this." Not a question. This explained his disappearances up to the roof " to check on the bees."
He nodded. "Yes."
She rested her hands lightly on the top shelf, then turned to him with a smile. "Thank you. It's beautiful. It's perfect."
He beamed back at her. "You can choose any books you like-"
"Thank you." She paused, considering. "I think I'd like to go get some of my books out of storage, too."
He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Oh, of course, we can do that later today if you like? I'd be glad to help. And help bring back anything else you want to bring."
"Just the books for now, " she said.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Yes. Everything else I need is here."
***
He did help her move several boxes of books into the brownstone, and helped her arrange them on the shelves. If he happened to pilfer a few of her medical texts, she pretended not to notice. That night she slept and dreamt of sanctuary, and woke to find him sitting in his chair, awaiting their next adventure.