A/N: Hello! its me. I'm back!. Okay I wasn't going to keep writing this because I barely have time to breathe with my thesis and my internship BUT someone was kinda enough to send me a message saying how good my story was and if I was going to write some more. I said maybe, then that maybe turned into a yes so here I am! I might write a bit of season 2 cause I have a few ideas.

I hope you like this one. Don't forget to review!

Fran

His mind worked fast, processing what his eyes saw when Irene stood in front of him, her naked back to him. Suddenly everything hit him, like a cold shower, like a slap in his face. How could he have been so stupid? He had been blinded by her return, by her being near him; he had missed the signs.

But it wasn't the fact that he had been played like a fool that bothered him the most, it was the fact that he almost lost the woman he loved because of an illusion. He had been willing to sacrifice everything he had to save Irene, and she had been using him in the most horrendous way.

Moriaty.

Irene and Moriarty.

Irene was Moriarty. All this time. Every time. She had successfully played him, time and time again.

"My dear Watson, you're here." he greeted her, the pain in his shoulder barely letting him speak, numbing his senses and his brain. Still he had energy to smile and speak to her.

"Sherlock…" she walked towards him with eagerness, but stopped midway when she saw his shoulder. "Oh my God, what happened?"

"Come, there's much we need to discuss."

Five minutes later he was sitting shirtless, with his back to her as she carefully removed the bullet and stitched his wound.

"I'm sorry about Irene." she whispered midway. "Or Moriarty, whatever her name is."

"Yeah, me too." he responded. "I'm more angry that I didn't see it coming before I made a stupid decision."

"No one did."

She stitched one more time, Sherlock's head rested against the chair and he bit his lip not to cry when the pain washed over him.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"Sherlock, we can talk about this another time?"

"No. No, I want to do it now, I need to say this now." he continued. "I thought leaving with her was the best choice, you know? I thought her being away from this city would keep her safe, I only thought in her wellbeing and not about us and about you. I shouldn't have. You've been there for me and I almost left you…I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." she spoke, as she dropped the scissors on the table and took her gloves off. She heard him sighed and she smiled, taking the opportunity to run her warm hands up and down his naked back, content to hear him moan under her touch. He leaned back, her chest against his back, her hands now travelling around his waist, her palms resting against his stomach. She kissed his shoulder and his neck hearing him groan when her lips made contact with the soft spot behind his ear. "I love you." she whispered.

He sighed, letting his own hands drop on top of hers. "I love you too."

.

.

She stood behind the glass at the precinct, watching as Sherlock sat on a table surrounded by papers. For a brief second his face contorted with pain but either way he didn't give up his search. She watched him, hands on her waist, slightly desperate to reach out for him and ease his pain, but she knew he needed a moment on his own to process the fact he had been played by the woman he once loved.

"To me, it's simple." Gregson spoke from the corner of the room. "I mean, Holmes just found out he has been manipulated for years. Guy's got to be devastated. Plus he's refusing medical treatment for a gunshot wound? I mean, I understand he's invested in the case, but NYPD doesn't do vendettas. If he were one of my men I'd bench him."

"Look, I understand you're worried, I am too, but he can't look for Irene if he has to marinate in his mistakes." Joan explains, staring as Sherlock swifts uncomfortable on his seat.

"You are his girlfriend, isn't it any way you can make him stop?"

"I've tried, but you know how stubborn he can be." she replied. "If I think he needs to stop, I'll let you know."

.

.

The minute she abandoned the building after her brother's phone call, the last person she expected to see was Irene, Moriarty herself. For a minute she stopped walking, anger slowly gravitating through her body, and thought about making a run, but then her curiosity hit her. She wanted to know what her intentions were, she wanted to know what she was up to with Sherlock and her impacts on him.

"What do you want?" Joan asked her, taking two small steps towards the woman.

"Why…the pleasure of your company, of course." Moriarty responded as she opened the passenger's side for her. Just when Joan stopped in her tracks a man stood behind her, practically pushing her towards the car.

Before she knew it she found herself sitting on an elegant half crowded restaurant, in front of Sherlock's nemesis .

"You're not afraid of me?" Moriarty asked her, smirking.

"I'm too angry to be afraid." Joan responded. "Maybe because we're in a crowded restaurant."

"Over the course of my career I've plotted seven murders that were carried out in a crowded restaurant. Killing you here is far from impossible. It's just not what I want."

"Why am I here?" Joan asked.

"Because he took an interest in you." Moriarty responded. "I believe you two are more than just friends, am I correct?"

"I'm not gonna discuss my relationship with Sherlock, especially not with you." Joan told her harshly, feeling the anger that had previously subside return gradually. There was no mistake the only thing she wanted to do was make this woman disappear for good.

"Well, as far as I can determinate you're just sort of…mascot." Irene told her calmly. "You were is sober companion, a professional angel to perch on his shoulder, fend off his many demons and now—was your desire to bed him so strong you completely forgot what you were entitled to do?"

"I was entitled to save him, from his one and only demon and I did." Joan spoke, glaring at her. "Love can do amazing things. Of course, since you're heart is made of stone, you wouldn't understand what that means."

Moriarty remained silent and before she could reply properly her phone beeped. She dropped a few dollars on the table and got up, not before smirking at Joan which pissed her off more than anything, and walked away not before turning around towards Joan for one last time.

"Talk to Sherlock." Moriarty told her. "Tell him I'll be here for a couple of days, after that he can have his city back. He can have this whole insipid country back. Make your job as a constant companion work for once, other than to screw with him, that is."

.

.

The few times Joan had seen Sherlock looking pissed where always times when he was frustrated with a case; perhaps a clue he couldn't find, or a piece of evidence he was getting a hard time dealing with. Almost never about something she did, or said. This time his pissed off looking face was because of something she had done, and who she had done it with; Moriarty. His nemesis had put her attention on her and it made him furious.

Sometimes in the middle of his half yelling, half speaking, she noticed how touched his shoulder and his face contorted with pain. The last few words coming out of his mouth got lost midway when he flew out of the room. She understood why he didn't want to take medications, but there moments when she thought he was just being stubborn.

Joan waited for him when he returned, a few drops of cold sweat on his forehead proved her point; he was in pain.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked him.

"The pain is quite intense at times but nothing I can't manage." he responded.

"We could go home so you can get some rest…"

"No." he responded quickly, stopping midway and turning around towards her. "I can't rest when I know she's out there. This is something that needs to be done quickly."

"I get that, I really do, but this is tearing you apart." Joan spoke, Sherlock was about to refute her but she didn't let him. "I know you. I know you're in pain and even though you don't want that wound to be treated properly, you can at least take a couple of hours to sleep. You need it."

"Not now." he told her quickly.

"Sherlock…"

Before she could say something else Bell approached them and Sherlock's attention was quickly drifting towards the detective.

.

.

He was kicking, screaming and panting. There was no question he was upset and disappointed with how the case was turning. He was also desperate, probably desperate to have closure and revenge. Joan felt his desperation was getting to her too.

"You need to get a hold of yourself!" she screamed at him but he barely paid attention to his request.

"I had her." Sherlock told her panting. "I uncovered her plan, saw how to stop her and she succeeded. Three people died today because of me…"

"Sherlock, don't. Don't do this again." Joan told him. "Captain Gregson wanted to pull your credentials the other day, I convinced him not to."

"Yes! Because you know a good detective doesn't stop because things get inconvenient."

She took a deep breath, her despair and anger mixed with sadness was getting into her brain and heart. The last thing she wanted to see was him getting hurt all over again.

"I think it's time." She whispered and watched as his face was clouded with confusion.

"For what?" he asked her. "You know I'll investigate this with our without your consent…"

"That is your choice, but I'm asking you, not only as your partner but as your girlfriend as well, to stop this right now."

He took two quick steps towards her, she was suddenly taken aback by the anger in his face.

"If you are the woman I thought you were, the partner I invited you to be, you will stop this line of thought immediately."

"I am your partner, your friend and the only one who can understand what you're going through but I will NOT let you keep going like this."

"You know I almost stole a vial of opiates from a crime scene yesterday?" Sherlock told her. She stared at him in shock. "You know why I didn't? Because of you. Because I knew how disappointed you would be in me. Because I couldn't stand the possibility of you being heartbroken again."

"Sherlock…"

"But if I only had the words to describe how disappointed in you I am at the moment…" he shouted. Joan sighed and took two steps back. He was angry, she got that, but either way his words hurt more than she could possibly understand.

"I…I don't expect you to understand right now, but I know what you need to do." she whispered. "Moriarty said she was smarter than you, that you needed to let her win. It is the only way this won't eat you alive. That this won't destroy us. She was right, let her win."

He panted, breathing deeply as he allowed the last of her words sink in. He slowly leaned in, closing his eyes as Joan reached out to him. No matter how sad she was, no matter how hurtful his words could be she was going to be there for him either way. So she allowed him into her arms, his head resting on her shoulder as he sighed deeply, she dropping a light kiss on his cheek.

"Please Sherlock, let her win." she whispered into his ear.

All she could hear were his sobs, nothing else.

.

.

Watching the bees was something he had been doing for the last hour. She didn't stop him, nor questioned him for she figured it was his way of putting everything behind. It was almost 7 when she finally reached out to where he was at the roof to share her updates on Moriarty. The minute she walked in his hand was in hers, holding tightly. She didn't realize how much she missed his warmth and his touch until now.

Joan allowed him to ramble about the bees, about how one of them had gotten one pregnant. She barely understood about them but she liked to see him fascinated about something other than corpses and murders, so she listened with attention.

Until he did something that surprised her. He always did.

"You named a bee after me?" she asked him, turning around enough to look at him as he took a seat behind her. His face was blank but she could tell he was blushing slightly at her inquiry. She focused one more time in the new born bee. "You named a bee after me. Sherlock, that's so…."

"I know it's not enough." he whispered and looked down at his hands. She knew he was embarrassed, she knew he was ashamed of everything that happened with Irene and she also knew he wanted to apologize but didn't know how to.

She walked towards him and stood beside him as he spoke. He was still looking down at his hand, too embarrassed to look up at her.

"You're free to leave me if you wish." he spoke again and Joan couldn't help but being shocked at his words and the sadness in his tone. "I will understand, after everything I did to you these last few days. After what happened with…Irene. I don't deserve you; I don't deserve your love or your forgiveness."

"Sherlock." She put her hands under his chin and forced him to look at her. "I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever. I was upset, when you told me you were leaving with Irene, but then I understood why you were doing it. You were trying to protect her, to save her like you couldn't do it before. It wasn't because you loved her but because you owed it to her. But I'm not leaving, okay? I'm staying here because I love you and I know you love me too."

He wrapped his one free healthy arm around her waist, pulling her further towards her, resting his head on her stomach. He sighed heavily, for a moment fearing she would leave him and find himself lost, like he had many years ago.

"Well, you know as I said, naming a bee after you is not enough, and will never be enough." he spoke against her body. He pulled away from a moment to look at her face. "You saved me. You not only defeated my worst enemy but also saved me from destroying myself and I would be, no doubt, crazy without you. So…"

He pulled away completely and Joan couldn't help but being confused by his actions. At the same time she stared at him he pulled a dark blue velvet box from his pocket.

"To me, the only way of expressing how much I love you is with this." then he slowly bend on one knee and stretched out his hand towards hers.

"Sherlock…oh my god." She gasped as he covered her lips with her hand while the other was being held by him.

"Joan Watson, will you marry me?" he asked and waited for her answer with sudden expectation.

She took several deep breaths; a few tears running slowly down her pale cheeks and then nodded slowly.

"Yes. Oh my God, Sherlock, yes. Yes, I'll marry you." she spoke. He released her hand to open the box he held, to reveal a beautiful oval shape three stone diamond ring and slid it into her finger. Then he slowly got up from the floor and reached out to touch her face, wiping the tears which were no doubt of happiness.

"I love you." she told him, he smiled sweetly and his lips touched hers slowly and then the kiss intensified, they held onto each other for minutes until air became a problem and they break apart,arms still wrapped around each other.

"I love you, too" he responded.

THE END.

Season 2 here I come!