Joan's head felt like a marching band was doing laps across her brain the moment she opened, and immediately closed, her eyes. From her nearly face down position she slowly rolled on to her back, her stomach rolling with her. Taking a deep breath to try and calm the raising tequila she smiled at the smell of the warm blankets. It surrounded her and she pulled the duvet up over her head to breath it in, curling into a ball.
And then the source of the smell dawned on her.
"Oh my God," she mumbled into the sheets.
Poking her head out from the blanket ball there was no Sherlock in sight. There was however a tray with a bottle of water, aspirin, her toothbrush and favorite paste sitting on the edge of the bed. Next to that sat a folded pair of her pajama pants, socks, and her favorite fluffy red sweater.
"Damn it...I love him," she grumbled dragging herself out of bed, only manageable when she pulled the thickest of the sheets with her. After a trip to the bathroom and some aspirin Joan felt almost alive, almost.
When she reached the stairs it was the smell of bacon that guided her down, and she flinched at the cacophonous sound of a fork clattering to the floor when she approached the kitchen.
"Sorry," she heard a female voice mumble, and from the misery in her tone she could tell it was Lin.
"Not at all." Sherlock picked it up as he sat down a cup of coffee in front of her head as it rest on the table. The younger Watson reached for it blindly, not lifting her head, but sighing at the warmth of the cup on her cold fingers.
"Bless you," she said into the table. Sherlock couldn't help the small smile that crept to his lips, finding the sisters similarities endearing.
"Lin," the detective began hesitantly. "I know now may not be the best time but as you're leaving tomorrow I'd like to ask if I may seek your counsel...about Joan."
Both sisters ears perked up, Lin's head finally raising from the table.
Sherlock noted absently that were he not about to have a days worth of potentially life altering conversations, he could release his chuckle at the large rats nest of hair defying gravity atop Lin's head.
"Sure," Lin replied trying not to sound too eager. In her humble opinion, it was about damn time these two had it out.
"Thank you." Sherlock thought for a moment, "Um…. Your sister and I have been acquainted for nigh on a decade now and...well I was rather thinking of giving her something for our seven year anniversary, but I'm not entirely sure how it would be received." He glanced out the window at the dreary London morning. "I bought it a long time ago, when I ran away to England for the better part of about a year seeking to recreate the relationship I felt I'd destroyed with Watson. Folly, but I'm sure Joan has aprized you of that occurrence," he looked at Lin with a rueful smile and the younger Watson nodded.
"She may have shouted to me about that once or twice,"she smirked.
He nodded. "I don't know what on earth possessed me to buy it I just…." He sat up straighter. "Over the years, whenever I was at my lowest, I would hold it in my hand," Sherlock looked down at his open palm. "And imagine what it would be like to give it to her. What she might say." His eyes fell to the open window again. "I took it with me when I went back to rehab after my relapse…."
Lin hid her knowing smile behind a yawn. "It's not a head is it? Or like a body part right?"
Sherlock furrowed his brow in confusion, "What? No."
"Or like a crazy experiment, or a monkey, or God a lama or something…."
"I can assure you I have no intention of gifting primates nore any pack animals," Sherlock took a patient breath. "Now, I'm sure you're aware of how integral I find Joan to my work."
Lin nodded, immediately regretting the action when the jackhammering in her head started up again.
"Well…," the Brit cleared his throat, crossing his legs and resting his hands in his lap. "Over the last few years she's also proven to be a rather important part of my personal life as well."
"Well yea, you guys are best friends." She chuckled, "no one who's met you two could argue that."
Sherlock smiled down at his hands, "About that…."
Lin's eyebrows almost jumped off her forehead.
"Last night Joan and I…."
"Oh my God! You didn't," Lin shouted with a thousand watt smile.
Just outside the door Joan covered the bright pink flush on her face with her hands.
"No, Lin no. Joan and I…."
Lin slammed her hands down on the table. "Did you kiss? Please tell me you kissed her!?"
Sherlock found himself blushing as well and he began to stand. "Perhaps this was a mistake."
"No! No, sit! Please, I'm sorry I've just been waiting for you two to talk about this for...years," she chuckled.
"I had no idea our relationship was such a popular subject," Sherlock commented, sitting back down.
"Are you kidding, did you know about the office pool back at your New York precinct?"
The detective shook his head in the negative.
"Well lets just say, the pot was huge last year. People were plotting elaborate things with mistletoe and all sorts of schemes to get you two together."
"It seems Michel's murder came just in time then."
Lin chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry if it sounds trivial but I've been watching you two. You've both changed since you started working together, for the better in my opinion."
Sherlock smiled genuinely at that, "That's good to hear because...well I often wonder if I'm more trouble to her than I'm worth."
Lin's smile fell, she was shocked he felt that way. Sure they'd had some downs, some very very bad downs, but they'd saved countless lives, and in her mind they were both heroes.
"I've cost her so much."
"And yet here she is," Lin smiled when Sherlock met her eyes. "After everything you two have been through, she's still here...like right here, um there," she pointed and Sherlock turned sharply.
"Joan, uh Watson," the detective stood but before he could say anything else Joan kissed him.
Her lips momentarily wiped clean the entirety of the english language from his mind, and the blanket of calm he'd come to associate with her presence washed over him as she pulled away just enough to meet his eyes, Sherlock bringing his large hands up to rub the backs of her upper arms.
"Good morning," she whispered.
"Morning," Sherlock replied, his eyes half lidded and unable to focus between her lips and eyes.
Joan rest a hand over his heart, "Would you like help with breakfast?"
"What?"
"Breakfast," she inclined her head towards the stove.
"Ah, no assistance necessary my dear Watson."
Lin smirked as she sipped her coffee.
"The eggs are all that's left so please," he extended a hand to the chair he'd been occupying, pushing it in underneath her as Joan sat before fixing her a cup of coffee and continuing with the eggs.
Lin looked at Joan with bubbling quiet laughter, "Girl! What did you do to that man," she whispered.
Joan raised her eyebrows and glanced over at Sherlock, "What do you mean?"
Lin shook her head with a sigh while Sherlock suppressed his own laughter out of the women's view.
000
Joan hugged Lin tightly, "Hug mom and dad for me, yea?"
"Of course," she smiled. "Um, Sherlock can I talk to you for a second?"
The detective nodded, carrying her bag inside for her. When they were out of Joan's ear shot Lin turned to him with a kind smile.
"Sherlock, I think I know what you want to give her."
His eyebrows rose as he glanced worriedly back at Joan.
"Don't worry I haven't said anything to her but I just wanted to give you my blessing. I know you both "abhor the conventional"," she held up her fingers sarcastically. "But this might be a conventional thing you enjoy." She shrugged, "You two just fit, you know? You're at your best when you're together, and Joan's never had a partner like you, in her work or personal life." She laughed, "I've never heard her talk about anyone the way she talks about you, and let's be real Sherlock. She's basically Wonder Woman, if you don't put a ring on it, someone else will."
Sherlock smiled, "Point taken".
Lin hugged him tight and he returned the embrace, grateful for her counsel.
"What was that about," Joan asked when he returned to her side to hale a taxi.
"Your sister surprised me with a deduction of her own."
Joan raised her eyebrows in question but Sherlock didn't elaborate as he opened the taxi door for her.
On their way back they made light conversation about dinner, both silently agreeing to have the talk out of earshot of the public.
Unfortunately that particular life changing conversation would wind up waiting for another day. Their new captain was waiting at Sherlock's door when they returned.
"He's killed another family…."
000
Two weeks later Joan's new steel toed boot connected with a man's groin and he dropped like a stone.
The hold on Sherlock's throat was released immediately and the perp dropped to his knees holding his rapidly bruising meat.
The 6'3" family annihilator never saw Joan coming as she ran up behind him. She'd taken one look at his wide stance and devised the fastest way to get his hands from around her partner's throat.
Joan stepped over the groaning man to get to Sherlock just as the NCA(1) officers burst in to grapple the killer into submission. She fretted as the detective coughed before beginning to check his throat.
"I'm alright Watson," he assured her.
Suddenly they heard a scuffle and one of the officers shouted, "Gun!"
The killer aimed the gun at the consultants and Sherlock immediately hugged Joan to him, turning his back to the shooter to shield her.
But another officer tackled him to the ground just as he squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet into the wall beside them.
It took the panting couple a moment to realize the gunmen had been subdued but Sherlock couldn't seem to release Joan from the bear hug he'd trapped her in.
"Sherlock," she whispered when she saw one of the officers begin to notice them still on the floor.
When he didn't respond other than a ragged breath, hugging her tighter, Joan took off her glove to slip warm fingers under his arm and cup his cheek. "Sherlock, we're okay." She pressed her cheek to his before turning her lips to his ear, "Open your eyes."
Sherlock's eyes flew open, he hadn't even realized he was squeezing them shut, and Joan held his gaze, coaxing him into following her calming breaths.
"We're okay, just breathe with me," she whispered.
He calmed after another moment or two and she helped him up, careful with the PDA she allowed while walking him to the EMT's waiting outside.
"You two look like hell," their Captain sighed as she looked at an exhausted Watson and a shell shocked Holmes. "Go home you two. It's," she looked at the calendar on her Apple Watch. "Thursday, I don't want to see either of you till at least Monday."
Joan nodded, glancing worriedly at her partner. "Thank you," she smiled slipping a discrete arm around Sherlock's waist as she reached for her phone to call a cab.
When they were safely back in 221B Joan walked Sherlock to his room. "Hey do you wanna wash up and I'll get us some food? We're both kind of gross after chasing Cochise through that factory."
Sherlock nodded numbly only meeting her eyes when Joan touched his cheek with a warm smile.
"I'll meet you downstairs in half an hour, okay?"
He nodded with shiny eyes and Joan hesitated for just a second before reaching up to cup his other cheek. "Today we're okay," she said softly.
Sherlock nodded again sniffing back his raging emotions but his eyes widened when she kissed him, short and sweet on the lips. She grinned when she pulled back knowing it was the shock he needed to break out of the fog he was in.
"Thirty minutes," he said quietly.
Joan nodded and left him with a pat on the arm.
Sherlock stood still until he heard the extra door joining their houses in the library close before walking over to a loose floorboard in the far corner of his suite. Reaching inside he pulled out a small wooden box.
Checking behind him he walked over to his desk to boot up his laptop.
'A vacation,' he thought as he began typing. 'A weekend getaway...'
Setting aside a few potential destinations he stashed the box in his desk drawer closed his laptop and went to shower.
When he made his way downstairs with three minutes to spare Joan was already heating up the leftover takeout from their lunch the previous day.
She wore her long soft cream Cashmere robe and the frighteningly colorful Christmas themed socks he'd bought her as a joke last year. Her hair was twisted up in a towel and he could smell her honeysuckle scented shampoo as he pulled two bowls from the cabinet beside her. They chatted cordially as they ate, Sherlock picking the mushrooms out of Joan's bowl.
"Why don't you tell them not to put mushrooms in your stir fry instead of making me pick them out?"
Joan grinned, "Because I like the flavor but I hate the texture." Sherlock couldn't help his short laugh.
"I was going to clean up the case wall after dinner if you'd care to join me."
"Sure, but only if I get to label the files. You're handwriting is barely legible."
The detective nodded with a pout.
There was a strange silence between them for a moment before Sherlock was able to gather his courage to speak. "Um, I was thinking…."
Joan waited patiently for him to continue, sucking up a particularly long noodle which eased some of his nerves.
"We've been working very hard as of late and I rather think it's time we took some time for ourselves. I thought we might...go away somewhere for the weekend...together." He poked at his noodles for a moment but when he glanced up to see Joan's smile answering his question before she'd heard his full proposal, he felt a nervousness he'd never encountered before.
"I've taken the liberty of looking at some cottages, none too far out of the city…."
"I'd love to," Joan interrupter eagerly. "And I trust you. I'm sure wherever you pick will be great."
Sherlock cleared his throat to cover his irrepressible smile, standing to collect their mostly empty bowls, and pretending not to notice Joan disappearing the last spring roll in two bites.
"Right I'll uh call around and see what's free shall I?"
Joan nodded with a smile, chewing happily with her mouth full.
"I'll finish up here. Would you mind getting the filing started?"
"Sure," she gave his shoulder a squeeze as she passed and he had to fight with himself not to lean in to her or drop the bowl he was washing.
Pulling the photos off the wall Joan realized they were down to their last photo sensitive sleeve.
"Hey, were you able to order anymore photo sleeves," she asked as Sherlock entered his office.
"Yes, they're on my desk upstairs," he answered as he began gathering the papers with his chicken scratch scribbles on them.
Joan sat the photos she'd gathered on the desk and began up the stairs with a sarcastic, "Don't forget to put the pins and tacks back in the box this time so you don't step on them."
Sherlock mimicked her words silently. "Yes mum," he called over his shoulder as one dropped on the floor.
Joan shook her head with a smirk and decided to wait for his chosen curse when he stepped on it.
When she entered his room the sleeves were nowhere in sight. She checked over and under the multiple books and files on his desk to no avail before checking the drawers. The first of which was the wider shallow drawer under the main part of the desk, and there they were, just beneath a small wooden box branded with the emblem for Bvlgari.
It was beautiful and as she tried to set it back down she somehow fumbled it between the slick photo sheaths.
"Shit," she gasped, knowing that whatever it was it was expensive.
When it hit the wooden floor it popped open, a smaller velvet box spilling out.
She stared in disbelief at the cobalt blue ring box for a moment before quietly padding over and gingerly picking it up.
Joan covered her mouth with a gasp when she opened it to find the glittering engagement ring inside. It was simple and beautifully elegant, a thin silver band crusted with what looked like dozens of small white diamonds and one brilliant sparkling modestly sized round center ruby.
It looked incredibly expensive and she glanced up at the empty doorway to Sherlock's room thinking for a moment. Her eyes widening as her detective's earlier words replayed in her head, "I wanted to give her something for our seven year anniversary...I bought it years ago."
Staring at the ring in utter disbelief she sat the photo sleeves back down on his desk to take the ring out of the box.
Of course it fit perfectly.
Joan's eyes began to water.
Downstairs Sherlock let out a quiet, "Bugger!"
Pulling the tack from his foot he wiped the small bubble of blood away and looked around to make sure Joan hadn't seen him.
"Bloody Hell, why is she always right," he sighed. Picking up the closest paper to him he skimmed it, noting the words killers trophy and wedding ring before his mind palace nearly exploded. The detective took off in a sprint towards the stairs. He couldn't believe his stupidity at sending Joan up to rifle around his desk.
"Bugger bugger bugger bugger," he chanted as he climbed the stairs two at a time and his eyes bulged when he made it to his door. Joan stood in the middle of his room eyes bright with unshed tears as she stared at the ring on her finger, her other hand covering her soft lips.
The first of her tears fell when she looked up at the panic on her partner's face.
"Joan I, I'm sorry, I can explain…," he began rushing over to her.
Despite his urgency Sherlock had no words when he stood before her. Looking down in to her eyes he couldn't think of a single word that could explain away his intentions.
"I…."
Joan looked at him expectantly, but the detective was silent so long that her brow furrowed and she looked back down at the ring, the slender fingers of her right hand raising to pull it off. But Sherlock closed his eyes, raising his hands to stop her and giving in to the truth.
"I love you."
Joan stilled under his hands.
He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop the tidal wave of emotion he was being drowned by.
"It seems I've been in love with you for some time, an irrefutable fact not brought to the forefront of my attention until I left New York for good…. Until I thought I'd been forced to leave you."
Finally he met Joan's wide shiny eyes. "I bought that ring when I was broken. I'd been in England a month and everyday I could feel myself slipping a little further." He sniffed, "Away from my work and worse...away from you."
Joan rest a hand over his heart and Sherlock covered the hand with his own, taking a deep breath. "As much as I loathed to admit it my mind was strong, but my heart…," he shook his head thinking of how close he'd come to using again. "If it hadn't been for that ring, the thought of one day being well enough to give it to you, and later Kitty, I don't know that I'd have made it back to New York."
He smiled down at Joan, the first of his tears spilling. "Bvlgari opened a new shop downtown and when I saw that ring in the window...my first thought was of you."
Joan smiled up at him, their height difference made more noticeable by her bare feet.
"I know neither of us are much for convention but…." The detective gulped and Joan grinned like the Cheshire Cat she was.
"You have to ask the question to get the answer."
Sherlock shook his head and let out a soft laugh. "Always right," he whispered with a widening smile.
"Yun Jingyi...Joan Watson, will you do me the honor of being my partner in life...as well as business?"
Joan pretended to think for a long moment and she chuckled at Sherlock's indignant sound before kissing him quiet.
She nodded and Sherlock began nodding with her, "Is that a yes?"
"Of course it's a Yes!"
"Bloody Hell," he exclaimed hoisting her up and spinning them around as she laughed out loud.
"Bloody Hell," he repeated when he set her down. "What does that mean?! What do we do now? Who should we tell? There are security concerns of course, this should be privileged information, need to know only." The detective began to pace.
"Well…."
"I hate to admit it but we will also eventually have to tell my father."
"Sherlock…."
"And the Captain, of course."
Joan sighed, "Sherlock…."
"And I'm sure we've no need of a church. Maybe a small gathering of friends, Antonio, Mrs. Hudson, Marcus…."
The next time he turned Joan took hold of both his ears to pull him into a kiss.
Once again every consecutive thought in his head evaporated, and his body seemed to be moving several seconds ahead of his mind telling it to act.
One of Sherlock's hands found itself pushing aside the towel on Joan's head to leaf through her long damp hair, coming to rest on the nape of her neck, the other falling to her waist to pull her close.
He could feel the smile on her lips before she pulled back. "Are you in the mood for a workout," she asked as she untied her robe.
If he'd been drinking anything Sherlock would have spit it out in shock as Joan slipped the cashmere from her naked shoulders.
He nodded dumbly as he stepped back in to her space.
"We may regret not stretching first," he said, his voice dropping an octave with his fingers first brush against her creamy thighs as his knees found the floor.
"I'm more limber than you think," Joan replied with a wink, her fingers caressing his jaw, tilting his chin up to look into her eyes.
ooo
1.) NCA (National Crime Agency) - "The National Crime Agency is the closest equivocal organization to the US's FBI. For British interest they cover, "...serious...," domestic and foreign, "...organised crime...border policing, economic crime...the National Cyber Crime Unit and specialist capability teams."
Taken directly from the NCA website at . /
Authors Note: Okay folks, the next chapter is where the as aforementioned warnings come in. Again, it should be assumed that any and all trigger warnings that can apply should be applied to all of my stories.
Nothing worth having is easily gained, and Joan and Sherlock will have to fight tooth and nail for the life they want to have together.
defines a psychopath as, "manifesting as amoral and antisocial behavior, lack of ability to love or establish meaningful personal relationships, extreme egocentricity, failure to learn from experience, etc.."
There's a fine line between love and obsession, and psychopaths don't usually bother making that distinction.