Title: Trigger
Author: Mysteryfan28
Fandom: ELEMENTARY (CBS)
Word Count: 1,038
Summary: After moving to London, Joan experiences a flashback to the night at the brownstone in New York City.
Characters: Joan Watson, Sherlock Holmes
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to their respective owners/companies. No copyright infringement nor profit is being made with this story.
Rated: Teen
It had been a quiet morning at 221 B Baker Street, Sherlock was away at the British Museum leaving Joan alone in the flat to study some old case files. Suddenly, there was a loud noise just outside the window which caused Joan's heart to race. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and went to the window. On the other side of the window, she saw a couple of cracks and from the shape of them, Joan noted that the cracks were made by Beebe's.
Joan's hands shook as she examined the glass around the windowpane. She sighed as she strengthened up, then winced when she saw that her palm was bleeding. She winced and went to the backyard, turned on the hose and rinsed off the blood from her palm. She grimaced when she discovered a small shred of glass embedded in the center of her right hand. It was then she decided to walk back to 221 A and find some tweezers, so she can get the glass out of her hand. And to call Sherlock of course.
After twenty minutes of nearly pointless searching and bumping into nearly every surface in the flat, Joan spotted the tweezers inside the top drawer of her bathroom. Carefully, she took the tweezers out of the drawer and held them in her left hand. Just as she was about to use the tweezers her phone started to buzz. She sighed, then winced as she tried to grab her phone with her injured hand By the time Joan got to the phone, the buzzing had stopped. She glanced at the missed call lost and found that Sherlock had tried to call her.
Joan sighed as she tried to grab her phone with her left hand, she sighed with relief when she hit the re-dial, less than a minute later she heard Sherlock's voice coming through the speaker. "Ah, Watson, good of you to return my call. Is everything alright?"
"Not exactly," Joan replied. "Look, it's a long story, and I really don't want to get into the details over the phone Sherlock. So, could you please come to 221A as soon as you can?"
"I'm almost finished here," Sherlock told Joan. "I'll be at 221A within fifteen minutes. Can you manage to wait until then?"
Joan took a deep cleansing breath and said: "Yes, I can manage." It was in a way, true that she could her life without having the detective constantly hovering over her, and just being a pest. But today, for some reason she felt a need to have Sherlock near her. Although it bother her to admit it, there were times where Sherlock made her feel safe.
Twenty minutes later Joan heard Sherlock come into the flat. "I'm in the bathroom, Sherlock!"She called out. The detective followed the sound of her voice and indeed he did find Joan in the bathroom, standing in front of the sink, still struggling with the shred of glass that embedded in the palm of her hand. Sherlock walked over to Joan and asked: "What happened, Watson?"As he gently took hold of her hand and gave it a light squeeze until he saw the shred of glass had raised slightly.
Joan sighed. "You might find this to be a bit silly," she began, but Sherlock was quick to cut her off.
"When it comes to your safety and well-being Watson, nothing is trivial." Sherlock said honestly. "You know that don't you?"
"I do." Joan replied, "and I appreciate the thought, Sherlock." She gave Sherlock a small smile.
"Do you know what caused this sudden feeling of unease, Watson?" Sherlock asked. Joan glanced down at her hands, the expression on her face was solemn. "I had a flashback of what happened in New York."
"You mean what happened with Michael Rowan at the brownstone?" Sherlock asked. Joan nodded.
"It was such a stupid little thing," Joan told Sherlock. "The idea of the sound of a handful of hitting a pane of glass could cause such a violent reaction in me," Joan said as tears rolled down her face.
"Watson, the reaction you had is completely understandable given what happened with Michael in New York," said Sherlock. "What happened in New York was not your fault."
Joan took a deep calming breath. She knew on an intellectual level that Sherlock was right. Still, she felt responsible for Sherlock's exile from New York.
"I'm so sorry, Sherlock," Joan said softly.
Sherlock was taken aback by Joan's apology. "Watson, there is no reason for you to apologize for my actions," Sherlock said as he took Joan's hand and gave it a gentle pat. "We all make our choices, and I do not regret for one moment, the choice I made when I confessed to Michael Rowan's murder."
"Even though it meant that there was a possibility that you would never be able to come back to the States or New York?"
Sherlock gave his partner a pained smile. "Even with that possibility Watson, I still would have made the same choice, that I promise you." Tears formed at the corners of Joan's eyes when she heard what he said. Quickly, she brushed them away with the back of her hand.
"Thank you, Sherlock." She said with a soft smile.
"You're most welcome. Watson," Sherlock replied. "Now, I believe that a walk is in order. The fresh air will do you a world of good, I think."
"And afterwards?" She asked.
Sherlock thought for a moment. "I believe that a search for a good therapist is in order, for both of us." Joan nodded in agreement. Together, the pair left the flat and headed to the park for some much needed fresh air.
FIN.