A/N: This is a continuation of "The way we met" and part of the series "Moments". This should have been the first story but since I started writing everything backwards this is still a continuation from my last story. I suggest you to read the first one to understand what happens here.
Thank you reading and reviewing!
Fran
The first thing Joan did her first night at the brownstone was thinking about rules. Why? Because she needed to create boundaries between Sherlock and herself if she wanted everything to work. It could be silly for some, but to her it made complete sense. It would also make things easier and it could be a constant reminder of things she wasn't supposed to do. Or he wasn't supposed to do.
So she wrote them on a piece of paper and walked downstairs. Sherlock was sitting next to the fireplace, playing with locks and throwing them into a bucket. He stopped when he saw her, staring at her up and down, making her feel warm and fuzzy.
"There's something we need to discuss." she told him. He sat up straight in his seat, putting the lock in his hand aside.
"Sure, what about?"
"Rules." she simply said. He frowned. "Rules that I wrote for this companionship to work."
"Alright…" he spoke, not fully convinced with the idea. "What are these rules?"
"I will read them to you." She took the paper out of her pocket and began reading. "Number one; no touching. At all. I don't want you to look for excuses to be close to me, or to grab me or do…things with your hands."
He blinked, but said nothing. She took the opportunity to continue.
"Number two; no flirting of any kind. I don't want you to complement me on anything, I don't want you to smile or smirk or say nice things. I don't want you to try to seduce me."
He blinked again, this time his frowned became deeper.
"Number three…" she sighed before reading, swallowing hard. "No kissing. Ever again."
He slowly got up from his seat when she said the last words. She instinctively walked a few steps back, seeing him as he approached her. Her breath caught on her throat, her hands trembled and her heart beat faster.
"Well, you know what they say. Rules, sometimes, are meant to be broken." he told her, watching her as she swallowed nervously. "And I happen to be a rule breaker myself."
"You're gonna follow these rules, because if you don't I'll walk away." she told him sharply. "I want to make this work and I know you want that, too."
"Of course I will. The question is, will you?"
Sherlock's eyes locked with hers for what it seemed an eternity. It was as if he was reading her, trying to figure out what was inside her brain and her heart. Her own conflicted heart didn't allow her to give him a proper answer, she just stood frozen on her spot as he walked passed her, playing with the paper in her hands nervously.
.
.
.
"I'm going to a dinner tonight with a friend," Joan spoke as they walked. Sherlock listened to her with close attention. She tried to make it look as simple as possible, not giving much information away. "But I'll be back before 10, so I'll be there at 8…"
"Two whole hours of my lonesome?" he told her, stopping midway. "Aren't you worried I'll go on some sort of binge?"
"Well, just to be safe, I will be giving you a drug test when I get home."
"Yes, of course you will."
She turned around, quickly walking away. He followed her with his eyes, trying to hide the uneasiness at the mention of a 'friend'. Sure he had no right to be jealous at all, she had made clear she was a professional therefore nothing could possibly happen between them, as much as he wanted to. That being the case she had all the right to go out with whoever she wanted to, friend or more than friend.
And he could go home and pretend it didn't hurt his very core.
.
.
.
"So, it was really good what you did earlier." Sherlock told her, walking by her side at the station. He was too close, she noticed, his arm barely touched her as they walked together towards the exit. She ignored the shiver, like she had done a hundred times before but it was getting harder by the minute "Noticing the photograph of the armoire at the victim's house. I didn't need it to prove my point, of course, but it helped."
"You're welcome." she responded. "Um…anyways, I've got to meet my friend soon. You're going to be okay getting home by yourself?"
He watched her in silence briefly, she distracted herself from his gaze by eating her bag of chips. He was curious, she could tell.
"This, uh, friend that you're meeting, when was the last time you slept with him?" He asked quickly, looking anywhere but her. She felt her cheeks burning and her heart beating faster, not because of nervousness but embarrassment.
"Excuse me?"
"Obviously, it's a 'he' and an ex lover." he told her. She still watched him with confusion. "You go out of your way to avoid gender, you avert your gaze every time you say 'friend', which tells me it's not current 'lover'…"
"Would you just stop?" she snapped. "I will not discuss my private life with you, especially not in the middle of the station."
"I'm merely curious." he responded. "I don't want you to think any other way. I want to know why you avoid mentioning such an important part of your…"
"Just stop this right now. Just stop!" she interrupted him, as the elevator doors opened. She walked in quickly, Sherlock followed her suit, she pressed the buttons harshly as if that way the door would close and they would be out of the building and that way the conversation would end.
"My advice? Sleep with him. Does wonders for your mood."
Joan never wanted to slap a man so much as she wanted right now.
.
.
.
He was sitting in front of his computer when she walked into the parlor. Joan watched him as he frowned, deep in concentration.
"I made coffee." she told him.
"Thank you." he responded, stretching his arm, cup in hand and waited for her to serve him. Obviously she didn't.
"It will be right here when you're ready." she responded, to which he frowned and got up from his chair.
They stood in front of each other, he gazed at her up and down as he poured the hot liquid into his cup. Joan noticed his eyes on her body the whole time, and focused completely on her cup of coffee.
"You didn't follow my advice, I see." he told her. "You didn't sleep with your ex."
"I'm not having this conversation with you again." she told him.
"I'm merely curious, as I told you before." he spoke, sipping his coffee. "For how long did you date him?"
"I'm not talking about him…"
"Were you dating him when you met me?"
"Excuse me?" she snapped, frowning deeply as his question. "What kind of woman do you think I am?"
"Okay, so I guess that's a no." he whispered, turning around and walking towards his computer, ignoring her as she walked along with him.
"Just because you lied to me doesn't mean that I lied as well." she responded, storming out of the room angrily, leaving Sherlock with a strange feeling of guilt.
.
.
.
They didn't speak about the ex-boyfriend again, at least she didn't and for a moment Joan thought he had dropped the subject for the arguments to stop. She was completely and entirely wrong, especially when she found Ty sitting on the stairs of the brownstone, a bottle of wine in his hand.
She was taken by surprise at first, but then her shock was replaced by anger. Not at Ty, he was merely a pawn in Sherlock's game, but at Sherlock. He was invading her privacy, her own little bubble of joy to mock her and it pissed her off.
"Invading my privacy, not okay." she snapped at Sherlock.
"Said the walking, talking professional invasion of privacy." he responded.
"I'm here to work with you, not for you to ask questions about my personal life or hack my email whenever it pleases you."
"Well, I'm sorry, weren't you the one who said we should learn more things about each other?"
"Not like this!" she responded. "Not calling people I don't want to see and bring them here. That's not learning about each other, that is screwing this up."
"I thought you and him were together, isn't that why you had lunch with him?" he asked her. He knew she was going to snap more than she already had in any moment now.
"What the hell…." she stopped midsentence, walking a few steps closer to him. "Are you, jealous?"
"What? No."
"You wanted to see if we had something. That's why you asked me about him, that's why you told me to sleep with him because you wanted to see if that would actually happen."
"No."
"I can't believe you." she breathed. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on his spot, then moved a few inches towards her, their bodies almost touching.
"If you want to know the truth? Yes. I wanted to see how far it would go. I wanted to see if he could seduce you again and take you back. And to be honest I'm glad it didn't happen, because you deserve way better than this man who pretend he understands you when he doesn't give a damn about you."
She blinked, her breath caught in her throat as he spoke. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to hate him for being a complete ass, but he was making everything harder. Especially when he said things like that.
She turned around, eyeing him once again, unable to respond at his words and feeling tears ready to show up in any second.
THE END