RESOLUTION AND CAPITULATION. Chapter one
by phaedraphelan
Summary: How Sherlock and Joan might come face-to-face with what is between them and find that it is more powerful and more full of surprises than they could have possibly anticipated. Based on season three episodes. Joanlock alert.
Disclaimer: Elementary is the artistic property of CBS and no infringement is intended.
Sherlock had been back in New York for more than a month trying to regain a professional footing with Captain Gregson and the NYPD as a consultant, dealing with the difficult personality of Kitty, his current protégée and more than anything else, trying to repair his damaged relationship with Watson. In addition to everything else he had to contend with the pressure of the needs of his own flesh. He had missed Joan so terribly that he couldn't bear being an ocean away from her any longer. Now that he was back in the familiar environs seeing her again was extremely difficult. He had to admit that he needed Joan, that he was a man, first and last, and that his manly nature craved Joan.
As for Joan, she had formed a liaison with Andrew, a man who she had hoped would be able to fulfill her own intensely passionate needs, but he proved to be barely adequate. Andrew, while he was a few years younger than she was, was of more temperate nature and she found herself taking the initiative more often than not. And Andrew always left her wanting "more." In addition, seeing Sherlock again hit her like a ton of bricks. She tried to discount her feelings, but the effect he had on her was so real that she was afraid that she could not hide it from him. As it was, she could not resist working along with him again. She was drawn to him as to a magnet. So when he practically begged her to allow him to work with her on cases, she could not deny him this.
Joan had run off to Copenhagen on a whim with Andrew when he unexpectedly went there on business, mainly because she could not face her feelings for Sherlock. The trip did not draw her closer to Andrew, did not make her want to be in a committed relationship with him. After having been around Sherlock again for even a short time, it felt as if she had lost her last friend when she was in Denmark and Sherlock was back in New York.
But Sherlock had not been with a woman since before coming back to the city. It was the longest time he had passed without female attention since when he was in rehab. After the debacle of Mycroft and Joan, Sherlock had lost his appetite for casual sex. He just had no desire to be with a stranger. But that did not mean that he had no desire for anyone. He wanted Joan. And that want was so persistent now that it was a constant distraction. The sight of her after all those months provoked an intense, nearly unmanageable reaction in his flesh.
Joan noticed that Sherlock was under stress and she sensed that some of it was sexual stress. During their time together she had gotten to know his tells quite well and she knew the signs, the bouncing about, the hyperkinetic gestures. She saw in his eyes the need, the anxiety when they worked together on cases together. That day when Sherlock finally came clean with her and told her the he came back to New York because of her, because of the fact that he felt they were bound together in some way, she was stunned. She had wanted to hug him but she was afraid as he of what the consequence would have been if they had touched. But for the ringing of the phone it would have happened and Joan still quivered inside at the thought of what that would have done to the two of them.
Now Sherlock had not been sleeping for days; he could not get Joan out of his mind. On top of everything else she had come to the brownstone wearing those black leather shorts that highlighted her shapely hips and legs and he had found himself unable to stop staring at her backside. He finally went to her apartment, ostensibly to see Clyde, who was staying with her for a few days in their shared custody arrangement.
"Sherlock?" Joan asked as she let him into her apartment.
"I brought along some of this Bibb lettuce that Clyde likes."
"Go ahead and feed him. He hasn't eaten today."
Sherlock sat at the table where the terrarium was and began to give Clyde the lettuce. He was trying to hold himself still but he was very jumpy. Finally he sat back and just shook his head in frustration.
"I am so tired, Watson. I haven't been sleeping the last few nights. I wonder if it is the tediousness of maintaining my sobriety. Life just goes on and I can't seem to see where I am going sometimes. I have needs that seem impossible to care for."
Joan sat down opposite him and looked at him carefully. There were dark circles under his eyes, lines that had not been there months ago before all those terrible things happened. She knew that Sherlock often went without sleeping when working on a case from their previous two years together, but he always eventually collapsed when his body demanded it and went to sleep on the spot.
"How many nights without sleep?"
"I don't know. . . three or four nights maybe."
"Are you all right otherwise? You look like you need to 'go out,' Sherlock," Joan said referring to his past forays when he was in need sexually.
"I don't want that any more, at least not like that."
"So this is not something a visit from the Lynch sisters could take care of?"
"No, I will not be calling the Lynch sisters, Watson," he said with a note of finality.
Joan let the silence fall between them and it was a bit awkward.
"So . . . are you and Andrew still an item?" Sherlock asked cautiously.
"Not really. I think the trip to Denmark let me see that he was just not exciting enough for me. I tried to make it work. But I knew when I came back home that I could not be happy with him. Now that he is back it is not working, Sherlock. I have really tried, but you were right. Perhaps it's true. Maybe I am some sort of romantic terrorist. I can't seem to find that one right man."
"Perhaps you just haven't found the man who can do what needs to be done for you."
"Perhaps . . . I don't know. What does that mean anyway? What needs to be done for me?"
"Perhaps you haven't found the man who can take care of your sexual needs, someone who is more than merely 'adequate.'"
"And by that you mean what, Sherlock?"
Sherlock simply stared at her for a long moment before he spoke again. As outspoken as he normally was, he didn't feel free to speak his mind on such an intensely personal matter as her sexual urges. He had already in a previous conversation overstated himself when he compared her to a female baboon with inflated genitalia taking a chance on whoever came her way. He had seen the hurt in her eyes that his acerbic words had caused and he had no desire to inflict further pain upon her with his sharp tongue. Moreover the sight of Joan had so stimulated him the his need for relief nearly overwhelmed him and he had to force himself to keep from reaching out for Joan.
"I should not have come over here. I don't want to impose upon you, Watson. I just don't want to go back to the brownstone right now. The place seems so empty. I don't enjoy being alone these days."
"Where's Kitty?"
"She's out with that Zachary, probably might want to bring him home with her. You see, I'm trying to give her her freedom to have a social life."
"Would you like to try to get some sleep here . . . on my sofa?"
"You wouldn't mind? I don't want to overstep . . ."
"I wouldn't invite you to rest here if I didn't mean it, Sherlock."
Sherlock kicked off his shoes and walked to the sofa and stretched out there. He loosened his belt and trousers, opened his collar a couple of buttons and pulled his shirt out of his pants so as to make himself comfortable. Joan could not help but notice his state of agitation and all the indications of his arousal and it affected her profoundly.
In just a couple minutes Sherlock was out like a light, but when Joan got a blanket and started to cover him with it, he roused suddenly at the scent of her fragrance and caught Joan's wrist, holding it in a viselike grip.
"It's you, Joan. I do need you. . . you," Sherlock said desperately, as his arousal came hard upon him in that moment.
The next thing Joan knew she was on top of Sherlock, in his arms.
"I want you, Joan. God, it's more than that. I need you. Please I beg you. But I will not take what I am not freely given, Joan."
Joan stared at him, understanding him, understanding the intensity of his need, feeling his need throbbing through his flesh in that very moment.
He was instantly filled with remorse and released Joan's arm and shook his head. "I am truly sorry. I should leave now. I dare not encroach upon you."
Joan then stood up and in a very matter-of-fact manner pulled off her shirt and stepped out of her slacks and underthings as Sherlock watched in disbelief. Then she lay down on top of him.
"I give this freely to you, Sherlock," Joan said, kissing him full on his mouth. "Can you give me what I need?"
Sherlock groaned passionately, wrapping his arms around Joan, kissing her hungrily, tasting her mouth, pulling at her lower lip with his teeth as Joan kissed him back running her hands through his hair. Sherlock growled softly and then he sat up so that Joan was straddling him as she pushed his shirt off and pulled his trousers out of the way so that he could kick them to the floor as he kissed her over and over. They didn't stop kissing for a moment and the next instant their bodies were in perfect congruence to join but then Sherlock stopped suddenly.
"Joan! Do you want this as much as I? I dare not encroach."
"Sherlock . . . Please, Sherlock!"
When they began to come together in intercourse, Sherlock's girth momentarily shocked Joan. She had never been with a man so heavily-endowed physically.
"Sherlock . . . Ooh, Sherlock," she groaned as her body stretched to accommodate him. "Ooh, yes! Oh, God!"
"I don't want to hurt you, Joan! Do you want me to stop?"
"No! Please don't stop! Oh, Sherlock!"
When he heard her cry of need, Sherlock's manly nature took over and then there was nothing that could stop him as he pushed into her till suddenly they were joined as man an woman and he felt Joan's parts accept his girth completely as they fitted in exquisite perfection.
"Thank you . . . Joan . . . Oh, luv! Luv!" Sherlock cried out when Joan finally gripped his hips, pulling him deep inside her.
"Oh, Sherlock, I didn't know. I didn't know it would be like this! Ooh, Sherlock! Yes! Yes, Sherlock!"
They found themselves rocking in perfect rhythm, climbing to the heights of an ecstasy such as neither of them had ever experienced in their lives. And when they found that perfect rhythm, Sherlock snorted and growled as he forced himself to slow things down so that they could prolong their moments of satisfaction in a deep rolling rhythm that was exquisite beyond description as they gazed into each other's eyes, something Joan had never experienced with any man.
"You are so beautiful! So beautiful!"
"Sherlock! Yes! Yes! Oh, Sherlock! Yes, Sherlock!"
"Joan . . . Joan . . . I needed you so."
As they continued to rock together, their bodies inched to the edge of that precipice that would cast them over its edge and Joan's eyes began to roll about helplessly in her head as ecstasy welled up inside her as spasms began to surge through the deepest part of her unlike anything she could have imagined.
"Sher . . . Sher . . . lock! Ooh! Yes, Sherlock!" she cried out, gripping him for dear life. "Help me, Sherlock!"
"I must take you there, luv. I'm about to be gone."
When Joan received Sherlock's powerful final thrusts, she lost vision as the climax swept her and Sherlock saw her eyes finally roll back in her head as she gasped and cried out his name.
"Sherlock!"
"God! Joan! Woman!" Sherlock groaned. "I love you, Joan!"
And then he was gone, snorting like a wild horse, his own body jerking in spasm after spasm.
At that moment Joan for the first time in her life felt herself melting completely in surrender in a man's arms, plunging on what was like a wild roller coaster ride from the heights that left her pelvic muscles jerking helplessly, floating in a dimension she had never experienced, as spasm after spasm seized her in a vaginal orgasm deeper inside her than she had ever believed possible.
"Sherlock . . . Sherlock," she moaned as she lay conquered in his arms, still jerking and trembling.
Then neither of them could speak another sane word as they slipped into the afterglow, murmuring unintelligible sounds to one another.
"Please, let's get into bed, luv," Sherlock finally whispered, when he regained the power to speak.
He picked Joan up and carried her into the bedroom where they lay down together in her bed and without a word they reached for each other again.
"Sherlock, help me! I . . . I need . . . want more of you! Oh, Sherlock!" Joan begged as she crawled onto his chest.
Joan clung to him and Sherlock groaned as his passions asserted themselves powerfully again and they climbed that mountain again, even more slowly, extending the pleasure till they could hold back no more and the mind-blowing climax took them again and then left them sobbing in its wake, as Joan gave him again what no other woman had ever given him.
"I . . . I don't know what to say, Joan. I have been in such dire straits. And you, you surrendered to me. I felt you give all of yourself. Oh, God, Joan"
"For the first time I couldn't help it. I never could give in completely to any man till now. I would reach that point, but then I just couldn't let go, Sherlock. You knew my need. You took me completely apart. . . piece by piece, till all of me, every bit of me, belonged to you. Oh, my dearest Sherlock!"
"Every woman, even Irene, always held something of herself back . . . till you, luv. It was the most beautiful experience of my life, my darling Joan. I am still trembling all over, quivering from head to toe. Oh, Joan . . . Joan."
"Sherlock . . .baby . . . my baby," Joan murmured softly.
Sherlock held Joan, cooing softly to her with sounds and in words he had never spoken as she smoothed his brow, kissing him tenderly.
"Sweetheart . . . my lovely honeybee . . . Joanie . . ."
"It's all right, baby. Just rest and sleep. You were so very tired."
"I haven't been able to sleep because I kept thinking about you . . . my feelings for you. . . It has all been driving me quite mad, luv."
Sherlock groaned as he felt his flesh asserting itself again.
"Forgive me, Joan, but I fear I can't get enough of you tonight. I can't get enough. I have wanted you for so long . . . and you . . . you need my attention. You are in desperate need of attention."
Joan now for the first time touched Sherlock intimately, caressing him, letting her sensitive fingers get to know his excited parts as he moaned her name gratefully.
"You are . . . indescribable, Sherlock. You unlocked me inside . . . my deepest feelings . . . everything. You do know what I need, don't you?"
"I believe that I have always known what you need, from the first day we met. I am yours, Joan. I don't want anyone else. I had to bring this thing back here to you because I do love you more than anyone else in the world."
Joan kissed his chest, then his muscled belly all over and then as she continued to kiss him, Sherlock gasped and quivered in agony as she got to know him as she had never known him before.
"Joan! Joan! Yes!"
Sherlock writhed in ecstasy, seeing stars, unable to keep from crying out in the semi-darkness of the bedroom at the supreme moment until he lay finally at peace, moaning Joan's name, and when Joan kissed his mouth and he tasted himself upon her lips and tongue, he wept.
"Being with you like this is beyond my wildest dreams, Joan, beyond even the effect of any drug experience. My heart . . . all that I am is yours."
"I do love you, Sherlock. Just please take care of me. I was so afraid when those people kidnapped me. All I could think about was wanting and needing my Sherlock to come for me. I realize now that there is only one man in my life . . . you. There exists no other man for me."
Sherlock turned Joan onto her back and began to kiss her hungrily, drinking her kisses in long satisfying draughts, his hands searching all over her body and then he suddenly came into her again so powerfully that she gasped for breath, fluttering like a butterfly in his arms as he took her.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, yes!"
Joan welcomed him with joy and they were gone again, lost in their passion for one another, taking their time to climb that mountain again till they saw those brilliant flashes of light exploding in their brains.
"Oh, God, Joan! Joan!" Sherlock roared her name in exultation when Joan melted again in that supreme moment in a capitulation unlike anything Sherlock had received, causing him to sob in ecstasy.
They lay in bed together on that night and they knew that their lives had forever changed. Neither of them had ever experienced sexually what they had happened to them on this day. Love words that they had only imagined using flowed freely from their lips in fervent whispers till they fell asleep on the same pillow.
It was several hours later when Joan wakened, Sherlock was wrapped around her spooning. It was a closeness that felt completely natural somehow. When she turned a bit, Sherlock woke up and hugged her, kissing her tenderly behind her ear. He was relaxed, completely mellowed out, but he was concerned for Joan.
"Joan, luv, forgive me if I caused you pain. I forget sometimes that my . . . girth can sometimes be overwhelming."
"You are magnificent, Sherlock . . . magnificent. Are you all right, baby?"
"Very much so, my dear Watson," he said huskily. "I am overwhelmed to be finally in your arms. I have been in such need and for so long and then things took such a bad turn nine months ago. My flesh, my body has ached so for the comfort of yours. . . every time I would lie down and try to sleep, my need for you came upon me with such force that I felt that I would lose my mind. And now that we have come together, it is all beyond my wildest dreams, my darling . . . my sweetheart . . . love of my life . . . my honeybee . . . my Joan . . . my very dearest Watson."
Sherlock continued to murmur endearments that had never passed his lips as he tenderly kissed Joan's neck and shoulders over and over making her shiver in delight.
"Oh, Sherlock . . . baby, I was so afraid that you didn't really love me. I was so afraid."
Joan turned in Sherlock's arms and began to cry into his chest and he just held her, smoothing her hair, stroking her soft skin as his own eyes filled and spilled over, wetting her shoulder.
"Joan . . . I love you. God! I have loved you from that first day when you came to the brownstone!"
"Didn't I tell you that I wanted to be in your orbit? I wanted to be with you, but I was so afraid . . . till last night when I saw you suffering so. I couldn't bear to see you suffer like that."
"When you shed your clothes and then lay on top of me, my heart stopped beating for that moment. Woman, you are so beautiful . . . so beautiful."
Sherlock caught his breath and exhaled raggedly as his passions surged so powerfully that he was caught completely off guard as his body began to move against Joan's with unmistakeable purpose.
"Luv . . . luv! Will you take me there, to that beautiful place again! Please!"
"Yes . . . Sher . . . Sherlock!"
Joan welcomed him again and they were gone, lost in the joy of what they had found together. There was nothing gentle or tentative as they made love in those early predawn hours and Joan matched Sherlock passion for passion scratching him and biting him as he became like a wild horse on her, grunting and snorting with each powerful thrust, giving Joan what she had been waiting for all of her life. And then when the climax finally took them, Joan's teeth began to clatter as ecstasy seized her and the next instant both of them saw what seemed like all the stars of the Milky Way.
"Oh, sweet Jesus!" Sherlock cried in agony as he gave Joan his life essence.
They lay finally exhausted upon each other, incoherent and speechless, moaning softly to each other till they drifted off again.
When Sherlock wakened from the deepest sleep he had experienced in months a few hours later, he became aware of the aroma of coffee brewing. Joan was making breakfast. He pulled on his boxers and went to find her. She had showered and wrapped herself in a long bright blue silk robe, her long hair was down on her shoulders and when she turned to face Sherlock, he could see his mark upon her. He saw her love for him, all of it. . . in her dark eyes, on her mouth still swollen from his kisses, in the deep flush upon her cheeks and spreading down across her chest. She was his now. She would always be his.
Sherlock went to her and let his hands run up and down her body against the soft silk of her robe, squeezing her gently as he leaned in for a long kiss. Joan responded by hugging Sherlock with both her arms so that a groan escaped his lips.
"I missed you in bed, luv. I never want to sleep alone again."
"You shouldn't have to," Joan answered. "But you should sit down and eat now. I have the cereal you love and fresh strawberries."
Sherlock reluctantly released her and sat down and they ate together. They looked at each other with knowledge now and yet they knew that there was so much more to know. What had happened between them had opened up a new gateway between them that would never be closed. Now all that they wanted to do was explore and discover and yet they both knew that there were mysteries they would never solve about each other, that there was an intrigue that would never release its grip on them. Sherlock reached across the table to catch Joan's hand in his and he tenderly rubbed each of her fingertips with his thumb and then his thumb found the pulse point on her wrist and he felt her heartbeat throbbing for him.
"Please come and sit here on my lap, Joan. I need to have you close to me."
Joan came and sat on his lap as Sherlock finished his bowl of Cheerios. He took a large strawberry and presented it to her and Joan took it into her mouth but before she could begin to chew it he kissed her mouth and they tasted and chewed the strawberry together as both their mouths filled with the sweet juice of the fruit.
"Umm . . . luv," Sherlock murmured through the strawberry-flavored kiss as his hand found the sash of her silk robe and pulled it, releasing the robe from around her and revealing her completely to his passionate gaze. "You are so beautiful, so beautiful, Joan," he said as his sensitive fingers searching all over her body, exploring and getting to know breasts and belly and then the dark forest where her thighs came together, kissing her all the while.
That was when Joan's phone signaled a text message and Joan reluctantly looked at it.
"That is a text from Kitty. She is coming over here, wants to tell us something. Do you have any idea what's on her mind?"
"Not the foggiest. She and her Zachary have been going at it heavily for the past week or so."
Sherlock was still fully engrossed in kissing Joan's neck, her shoulders, inhaling deeply the scent of her skin.
"We should get dressed, Sherlock. I don't want to shock her."
"We can't hide anything today, luv. She asked me a couple days ago if you and I had ever 'hooked up,' to put it in her words."
"You're kidding me! What brought that on?"
"I believe she caught me staring at your lovely arse when you were wearing those blasted black leather shorts. I refused to answer her. She has no need for that information. But if she is coming over here, we should try to make ourselves presentable. I'll go take a quick shower."
Sherlock was still in the shower when the doorbell rang. Kitty.
Joan let her into the apartment. She took a second look at a very radiant Joan.
"I thought that your friend Andrew was in Denmark."
"He is not exactly still in the picture these days. Why do you ask about him?"
"Well, you've been with someone. That much is obvious."
That is when Sherlock came out of her bathroom wearing just his trousers low slung upon his hips, a towel draped across his shoulders. He excused himself, greeted Kitty, and went into Joan's bedroom and closed the door behind him.
"I see. I knew that Sherlock had the hots for you, Watson. You look like he took good care of you."
Joan was trying to think of an appropriate response when Sherlock came out of the bedroom. He had put on his shirt, but it was mostly unbuttoned and he was barefoot and adorably flushed and scruffy.
"Kitty, we are somewhat busy here at the moment. What do you need?"
Kitty took a long look at Sherlock. His languid blue-green eyes and slightly dilated nostrils completely betrayed his situation.
"Nothing that can't wait. I see that neither of you is fit for company. I will check in with Captain Gregson. Call me when you two have this thing between you under control. God, Watson, you sure know how to calm this man down! He looks almost catatonic."
Kitty went to the door and let herself out of Joan's apartment.
Joan looked at Sherlock and blushed deeply as Sherlock came to her, took her by her hand, kissed it, and led her back into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.