A/N: My first attempt at fanfic for the Elementary fandom, so hopefully I've done the characters justice. I started writing this before 2x07, but it turned into this cutesy back and forth correspondence fic so anything that takes place here is actually set pre 2x07, with slight spoilers from earlier s2 episodes leading up to that. Also, it's a bit of an AU, given the fact that in this fanfic Mycroft and Joan didn't sleep together in London. Although I did really love the fact that the show went there even though I didn't think they would. : ) Anyways, on to the fic! And also reviews are much appreciated!
Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary or any of its characters.
The weeks that follow their impromptu trip to London are surprisingly ordinary. Well, ordinary when it comes to the standards of living with Sherlock Holmes, but surprisingly ordinary all the same. They two of them drift back into normalcy (or what could be considered normal for them) the trip not carrying the amount of emotional weight she'd expected it to have upon their return back to New York.
She guesses she hadn't known what to expect from him really. Her expectations are usually that she shouldn't expect anything, pinpointing any possible behavioral patterns within him was nearly impossible, no matter how advanced her skills in deduction had become, her partner was a mystery she'd grown to understand was as unpredictable as they came.
There is no mention of the Inspector, for good reason she supposed. Lestrade's battle with his own addiction clearly giving Sherlock a life lesson that he hadn't bargained for. There's no mention of his brother either. Of Mycroft. As the weeks pass she sometimes stops between cases to wonder if perhaps she'd simply made him up. The lack of mention or evidence to his existence making her feel just as she had before she and Sherlock had made their trip to London in the first place.
She's dwelling on it more than she should, she knows. Every thought she has of him feeling like a point scored for Sherlock, who for some unforeseen reason had conceived the ridiculous idea that she'd been attracted to the elder of the Holmes brothers, and to even go as far as amounting it to an attraction she had towards Sherlock himself. Both notions not only bordering on ludicrous, but both coming out of absolutely no where. Sherlock's theories usually came from a place of logic and reasoning, they typically had concrete evidence behind them and made sense in their own warped sort-of way. But his theories in terms of her feelings towards Mycroft had come completely out of the blue, Joan had merely shared a handshake and a few words with him before Sherlock's insane theories had started running rampant.
Still she thinks of him, wonders about him. Not in a romantic sort of way, but merely with a mild curiosity in terms of what he was doing back in London. Managing his restaurants clearly, that wasn't a hard one to figure out. He must have friends, she reasoned. Where his brother was lacking in common social niceties, Mycroft seemed to posses the social graces necessary for maintaining at least semi close relationships with others.
It's a bit of a coincidence when one day, four weeks after their return (not that she'd been counting) that she receives an e-mail from him. The reason for him having her e-mail and phone number of course, being for purely professional reasons, she had been, in the past, his brother's sober companion after all and was now his partner and probably the closest thing Sherlock would ever have to a confidant. Therefore she'd left Mycroft her number and e-mail if he'd ever had any questions regarding his brother's well-being or just to check in on him in general. God knew it wasn't as if Mycroft could simply ask Sherlock himself.
It wasn't a particularly long or personal e-mail, more of a short and formal one that went straight to the point. The contents of which only included a few routine questions: How are things in New York? (he'd actually said the colonies rather than New York, a twinge of a smile pulling at her lips at this) How is Sherlock getting on? He hasn't managed to drive you mad yet, has he?
She tells him about how New York is the same, a lot of hustle and bustle and every week feels like a new murder to solve with only the occasional lull in crime which never seems to last for long. She tells him about one of their most recent cases, the Abigail Spencer case. About its particular effect on Sherlock and how she knows that this case is one of the ones that she knows will stay with him for a long time yet to come.
They'd corresponded as teenagers, back when he was in boarding school, I guess. She'd been accused of murdering her father, even though I think Sherlock had been convinced she was guilty he was too afraid to tell her since he'd thought she'd stop writing him if he did. He'd been going through some problems of his own at the time so I guess in a way even though he knew she was guilty he knew that she'd been justified in what she'd done. He'd gotten really close to her, maybe even loved her although he'd never admit it. He's all about being "post love" now ever since the whole Irene debacle. It's a long story, and I'm obviously not the one who should tell it to you since it's not mine to tell. In fact I feel like I've said a lot more about him than he'd like me too. I just feel like in London you'd expressed an interest in getting to know him, but I know how hard he's going to make it for you so I figured if I didn't let you know some of these things, then who would? Anyway, I should probably go. Sherlock's out on some random assignment from Gregson that he'd claimed was so tedious that it was "unworthy of my time or talents" and yet for some reason he'd taken the assignment. Must've been boredom I guess, or maybe he was trying to take his mind off of Abigail. Either way, I'd better go and feed Clyde.
-Joan Watson
P.S. In case you were wondering, Clyde is Sherlock's pet tortoise.
She receives a response from him the next day around late afternoon.
I'd never heard mention of Abigail Spencer, or Irene for that matter. But then again I suppose he isn't one for spilling significant details of his life to just anyone now, is he? I'm sure getting to know him will prove to be a difficult feat indeed, but your relationship with him gives me hope and makes me realize that however difficult it may be that at least it's something that can be achieved. However closed off he may be, I do appreciate your keeping me up to speed in the goings on of his life, after all, it's not as if he'd share these things with me himself.
-Mycroft Holmes
P.S. I was wondering about that actually, thank you for clarifying. And did you know that tortoises make an excellent soup? It's considered quite the delicacy in some countries, not that I'd ever suggest such a thing for your pet, I just thought you ought to know.
She types a response almost immediately.
He didn't so much as tell me about Irene so much as I'd stumbled upon it when I'd met your father. Well, an actor who'd been a friend of his who he'd actually hired to play his (your) father. But he'd mentioned the name of a woman who'd been important to him and I just sort of went from there. It wasn't easy, for him and I to get where we are today, but we've somehow managed to establish something. A partnership, a friendship. I wouldn't have known it was possible myself when I first started on as his sober companion, but stranger things have happened.
-Joan Watson
P.S. Why yes, I did know that tortoises make excellent soup, as so stated by another Holmes that shall not be named. You should know that if you're ever in New York that you're more than welcome to stay at the brownstone, although after your last e-mail, I really don't think Clyde will approve.
Joan and Sherlock are called to insist on another case, one which consumes nearly all of her hours for the next three says. The case is solved naturally thanks to her and Sherlock's efforts and chronic insomnia. (The chronic insomnia being more on his part, she never was a person that was much for alluding sleep) But when the case is finally resolved and she is able to find a moment's peace, she checks her inbox to find a few new e-mails, one from her mother, another from her friend Jen, and a third from Mycroft dated about three days ago. She clicks on his first.
Really? He'd hired an actor to play our father? Well he certainly can dedicate himself to a ruse, I'll give him that much. At least he'd had the decency to cast our father, he'd never so much as mentioned me. As I've said before, he's never been much for having friends, not until you that is.
-Mycroft Holmes
P.S. My sincerest apologies to Clyde, I'd never intended to offend him, truly. And as for your offer about the brownstone, is that an invitation, Ms. Watson?
She goes over the last sentence of the e-mail probably ten times, convincing herself that the redness from her cheeks will fade the more she goes over it. It doesn't. Seeing as how she'd left him hanging without a response for a few days, she types out one quickly.
Yes, he'd hired an actor to play your father, and I have to say, quite a convincing one at that. I was pretty mortified by that stunt at the time, but as long as I've been with him now not a lot surprises me anymore when it comes to Sherlock. Sorry for the delayed response by the way, after having sort of a lull, Sherlock and I actually had a pretty time-consuming case to work on and we've been sort-of swamped.
-Joan Watson
P.S. I'll extend the message to Clyde, although I feel like he's going to take more convincing. I'm just speaking in hypotheticals, say if you ever did drop by here to "the colonies" as you call them for a visit sometime. You were, after all, gracious enough to let us stay with you while we were in London, I thought it was only fair that I extended the same invitation to you. Why so formal with the "Ms. Watson" all of a sudden? I thought we'd dispensed with all the formalities pretty much the moment we'd met.
She just sits there in bed after hitting send, sitting with her laptop balanced on her lap. After calculating the time difference in her head, the fact that it's just a little after nine in New York would make it around two a.m. in London. The chances of her getting a response from him that late were slim to none. But still she sits holding her laptop, waiting for a response.
She only has to hit refresh twice before one appears.
No need to explain, I imagine being a consultant for the New York Police Department, however thrilling I'm sure it is, must be quite time consuming at times as well. I have to ask, do you get out much? I hope in the midst of all the cases you and Sherlock have been working on together that you're at least able to carve out some time for yourself.
P.S. Why exactly did you put the colonies in quotations? Are you making fun of me? And here I thought you were so polite Ms. Watson er—Joan I mean. As for the formal use of your surname I suppose I didn't really think much of it. I also suppose that I didn't realize that there was such a lack of formality in our relationship. So now that we're speaking in hypotheticals, can I ask how you'd feel if I did perhaps plan a visit to New York sometime in the near future? Clyde is free to think as he wishes, but yours is really the opinion that matters to me on this.
-Mycroft Holmes
Sometimes I find time for myself, when we aren't working a case, but it is hard to find time. Lately I've been feeling a bit cut off from the world, like I'm just observing while everyone else is off living. Or unfortunately in my case usually, dying. Sherlock claims that we're not cut off from the world, but that we're engaged in creating one worth living in. I agree with him to an extent, but sometimes I wonder if it's really enough.
P.S. Me? Making fun of you? Never! And you insisted yourself on calling me Joan right off the bat, remember? Therefore establishing a sense of intimacy early on in our relationship, as Sherlock would put it. I guess that may be part of the reason he was so adamant on the idea of you wanting to sleep with me. As for you wanting to visit New York, I think it would be a great idea. You and Sherlock didn't really seem to get enough time together in London but maybe this time around you two can have more time to talk things over. Or blow up each other's things, however it is you Holmes' work out your personal issues.
-Dr. Joan Watson
However dedicated you are to your consulting work, I'd suggest you not involve yourself to such an extent that you'd let your life simply pass you by, I think for you to do that would be a great mistake.
Oh, and I've decided to dispense with the whole "P.S." nonsense, I found it a bit cute at first, but since we both obviously realize that the meaning of P.S. is "post-scriptum" which is at the end of a letter, the fact that a majority of our dialogue actually takes place post-script is a bit of an irony in a way, don't you think? Sherlock thought I wanted to sleep with you? He really is full of ideas isn't he? I suppose now that you mention it he and I didn't really get much time together in London, which I'm sure was the way he would've preferred it. Although I must say, that time I spent with you while he was occupied was time I definitely considered to be well spent. And about the blowing up of his things, I really am feeling just a tad guilty about that now, not as much as I should be, but it is a bit unfortunate about that Picasso painting.
You should also know that the "Dr." in front of your name is a tad intimidating, can we perhaps dispense with the formalities again as we had before?
-Mycroft Holmes, Restauranteur and aspiring Tortoise Activist
I'll try to keep that in mind about work. Oh, so you think I'm cute now? Sherlock would have a field day with that one. And yes, I knew the idea he had of you wanting to sleep with me was a ridiculous one, he does get quite a bit of those from time to time. And yeah I agree, the dinner we had in London was—nice. I wouldn't feel too bad about his things, the Picasso most likely wasn't authentic. The woman I told you about, Irene was actually quite the accomplished art forger among many other things. Since she was the one that most likely painted it, he'd probably been grateful that you'd taken the liberty of blowing it up. Probably was most upset about the fact that he hadn't been able to do it himself. Oh so now you get where I'm coming from with the formality rant? By the way, nice try, Clyde still hasn't forgiven you, but he still appreciates the effort.
-Dr. Joan Watson, former Surgeon, Sober Companion, and current Consultant to the NYPD
I think you're many things, cute would be a bit of an injustice to you but yes, I suppose from time to time one could accuse you of being cute. That's a relief about the painting, I really was worried about that for awhile but I'm grateful that you'd been able to clear my conscience of that. So would a visit to New York within a few weeks time be enough advance for you and Sherlock? I'd hate to drop in unannounced but then again you dropping in on me unexpectedly was how we'd met for the first time wasn't it?
P.S. At the risk of sounding too bold, I said Sherlock had many ideas, but I never said the idea of me wanting to sleep with you was a completely outlandish one.
-Mycroft Holmes
After receiving his most recent e-mail, she has to go over the last sentence several times before what he'd just said has completely sunk in. She'd had the suspicion for a split second, only when she'd first shown up at his restaurant to realize that it had been completely cleared out specifically for their dinner together. But he seemed a bit confused when she's informed him that nothing would happen, as if the fact that she'd thought his intent with her had been romantic was completely baffling to him. As if the concept or the intent she'd accused him of with her accusation had been an idea so foreign to him he'd barely been able to grasp it.
Which, being that he'd all but essentially confessed to wanting to sleep with her via e-mail, she knew that the idea was now something that was not so far from his mind after all.
Of course he wouldn't omit something like that though. He'd survived cancer, had been near death. And his telling her in one of the earlier e-mails to not let life pass her by. Time was too valuable to him now, surely. He'd maintained his politeness and courtesy sure, but somehow the filter he must've had pre-illness and the walls that he may have built, walls that his younger brother had cultivated so well over the years, must've been torn down in the midst of his illness.
But it was just sex. It was all he'd mentioned, his declaration hadn't consisted of much else, but why would he tell her something like that in the first place if there was no underlying feeling to his confession? Obviously if all he'd wanted to do was sleep with her he'd at least have the decency to keep something like that to himself so that they didn't have this awkward cloud hanging over the two of them every time they crossed paths.
No, there was something else to it. There had to be. He wouldn't reveal something like this to her unless he'd thought he had something to gain by being bold. Sex was easy, sex was trivial. Sherlock would say the same for love, but Joan knew better.
The other Holmes' intentions towards her couldn't be purely physical.
I think that three weeks should be enough time in advance to come to New York, but I'll have to look into it with Sherlock before we make any definite plans. And I'll remind you that the reason why we dropped in on you was because we were under the impression that Sherlock was still living at Baker Street, so any "dropping in" that may have occurred that day was purely unintentional. But anyway, sorry for that, again.
P.S. Yes, that was a very bold statement indeed if I understand the implications of it correctly. You do realize that I'm your brothers' former sober companion and current partner and therefore it would be a conflict of interest on several different levels for us to pursue a romantic relationship of any kind together don't you?
P.P.S. We're back on the whole "post-scriptum" thing again. I tried to stop but it's happening again.
-Joan Watson
Let me know when you've spoken to Sherlock about it, once I know he approves of my visiting I'll start making arrangements immediately. No need to apologize for dropping in, there are much more unpleasant things I could've come home to than you.
P.S. Fortune favors the bold, didn't you know? The key term being "former" sober companion. He's no longer your client, but now works alongside you as your colleague. I hardly think a relationship between us is something that would tear him up inside. Unless I was wrong and there is an underlying romantic tension to your relationship that has gone previously unacknowledged or perhaps it has been? I'm not judging if there is, I'd just like to know whether I'm stepping over any unforeseen boundaries that had been previously unknown to me.
P.P.S. I realize that we're back on that again, I'm not complaining. I still think it's cute.
-Mycroft Holmes
You really should stop flirting, it's all very charming but like I said before, pursuing any romantic relationship between us would be a mistake. Maybe if the circumstances were different it would somehow work, but we are who we are and things would just be way too confused to even attempt to sustain anything.
P.S. I really would appreciate it if you stopped referring to me as cute, it really isn't helping the situation at all.
P.P.S It's getting pretty late over there, don't you sleep?
-Joan Watson
I suppose I would agree with you in that aspect, it would seem like pursuing anything other than a friendship between us would most likely complicate things wouldn't it? If you wish for our relationship to not be modified in such a way then I'll most certainly respect your wishes as such. I am, after all, trying to amend things with my brother and although I'd hope that he'd eventually accept a relationship with the two of us I honestly feel like anything happening between you and I wouldn't help things with him much.
P.S. Me, flirting? With you? Never! You're the one who just referred to me as charming after all.
P.P.S. On occasion, when I don't have distractions keeping me awake at night.
-Mycroft Holmes
I'm glad you understand. I'd love for us to be friends, but I just feel like anything beyond that right now wouldn't be the best idea. I'll get back to you when I've talked to Sherlock about your visiting New York.
P.S. Okay, now you're just being coy.
P.P.S. Oh, so I'm a distraction now? I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted by that fact.
-Joan Watson
I agree with you completely, I think you're an extraordinary person and you've made a very positive impact on my brother and I would be very fortunate to benefit from your friendship. Well, as you'd stated earlier it is getting quite late over here in London, so I think I best be calling it a night. I've greatly enjoyed our correspondence and I look forward to hearing from you hopefully sooner rather than later.
P.S. Was I now? I assure you it wasn't my intention if I came across that way.
P.P.S. It wasn't meant to come across as insulting, if anything you're a very welcome distraction at that.
-Mycroft Holmes
Well, at least she could say she'd gotten him to agree to an amicable friendship between the two of them. Judging by the last sentence of his e-mail, he definitely wasn't planning on making it easy for her.
Oh well. Who knows where this could go? He was coming to New York in three weeks time if she was able to get Sherlock's blessing on it.
Who was to say for sure? Stranger things have happened.