Joanlock

Chapter 4

The next morning, Sherlock awoke with a stiff neck, having fallen asleep on the floor because he was too anxious to go upstairs. Not after what had happened with Watson.

Sherlock phoned Gregson again, desperate to leave the apartment and avoid having an awkward confrontation with the source of all his conflicting emotions.

"Gregson." He answered on the second ring.

"Good morning Gregson," Sherlock greeted with fake cheer "Listen, I need a case. Any case. Please." Sherlock was startled by his own pleading but he simply accounted it to his desperate circumstances.

"Uh…" The Captain paused and Sherlock heard the shuffling of papers – no doubt the NYPD's recent cases – on Gregson's desk. "Most of them are pretty mundane…"

"Doesn't matter. I'll be there in 30 minutes." Sherlock promised firmly before disconnecting the call.

True to his word, Sherlock was seated in Gregson's office just as the elder man arrived back with a cup of coffee.

"So how is it you usually wouldn't touch these cases if your life depended on it before, but now you're practically begging to help? Also, what the hell happened to your jaw?" Gregson asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock's mouth stiffened in response but he didn't answer.

Gregson's eyes widened in surprise "Holmes, what'd you do now?"

"Well…" Sherlock paused awkwardly, unsure of how to continue "Watson came home and I tested her ability to fight off intruders, then she punched me in the jaw and I kissed her." The consultant blurted out in a rush.

"Shouldn't the punch have come after the kiss?" He asked, an eyebrow still raised.

"Not according to Watson apparently. In fact, at first she took it so well that she kissed me back… and then she disappeared upstairs." Sherlock replied sheepishly.

The Captain folded his arms "And now you're avoiding her. Great plan there, Holmes."

Before Sherlock could defend himself, Detective Bell walked into the office. "Sherlock, what are you doing here? Did we get a new case?" he asked addressing his boss.

"No, Holmes is here because he's a chicken." Gregson replied, smirking from behind his desk.

Bell grinned "Oh yeah, what'd he do now?"

"Go on Holmes, tell Bell what happened."

Sherlock huffed impatiently "Not that it is any of your concern but Watson punched me, I kissed Watson and she kissed me and then she disappeared upstairs without a word so now I'm here."

"Avoiding her." Bell supplied.

"Well, what else would you have me do? Say 'Watson, I'm terribly sorry but I'd very much like to kiss you again so can we please talk about why you ran away?'." Sherlock scoffed.

"Well from where I'm sitting, she's not the only one running." Gregson pointed out smugly.

Joan stretched out languidly in her bed, a relaxed smile on her face before she remembered what had happened last night. Sherlock. The kiss. Her running away. She grimaced, not her finest moment, running from Sherlock like she was on fire and he was gasoline.

What bothered Joan the most was that she kissed Sherlock back. She had kissed her friend eagerly; like there was nothing more she wanted than his lips on hers.

She stiffened as it occurred to her that Sherlock may be downstairs right now, waiting for her. What would they say? Would they agree to pretend like it never happened? Ignore it and linger on what if's?

"Ugh." Joan mumbled, kicking the covers off her legs and heading downstairs, listening for any sound of Sherlock waiting for her.

Instead all she got was a text on her phone: At the station with Gregson, needed help with a case. – Sherlock

Joan smirked. So she wasn't the only terrified one, after all.