Uhm...hey? Do you still remember me? Lily here...I'm...I'm so sorry. I know it's been way way way too long. I apologize. I've been so busy with real life and Malec. I hope you can forgive me, I'll try to be better but I make no promises. I hope you like this chapter!

Chapter 9

Joan felt the warm rays of morning sunlight on her face and she threw herself on her stomach to bury herself in her pillows. Her body was tingling with the afterglow of the mind-blowing sex she'd had last night and she wanted to bask in it for some more. Her stomach was coiling with the memory of the pleasure Sherlock brought her.

Sherlock.

Her hand reached out to the spot next to her, and her heart leapt. The spot was empty and cold. He was gone. He'd broken his promise.

Of course he had. They always do. She jumped up, keeping up her hopes that maybe he hadn't left her. "Sherlock!" She put on her bathrobe and left the room, her pace quick and her heart beating. If he left…if the son of a bitch left before he'd said goodbye. "Sherlock!" she yelled as she dashed down the stairs. Two strong arms wrapped around her as she entered the kitchen and her heart leapt. Someone had entered her private space, and was planning to do god knows what to her. "Let me go! Let me go!" She didn't know why, but she felt weak and vulnerable and sad. Sherlock had left her and now there was a stranger in the house.

"Joan. Joan! Please, stop struggling, it's me!" someone said in her ear, a voice she remembered all too well.

A voice that had whispered, 'I love you' in her ear last night.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed, turning and flinging her arms around his neck. She knew she was acting ridiculous, and weak, but she had to feel him in his arms for a moment. "You scared me!"

"Sorry." he whispered, stroking her hair. "I'm sorry. I was just making breakfast. I should have woken you." He pulls away and smiles at her, cupping her face. "How are you?"

"Aside from the fact that you gave me a heart attack and you're leaving…I'm fine. More than fine actually. Last night was…"

He pressed his lips to hers and smiled against them. "I know."

She let him go and straightened her hair, the desperation leaving her. "So…how are you?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm leaving you and that is the most difficult thing I ever had to do? Just peachy." He smiled softly and went back to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

Famished even. "Yes." He led her to the kitchen and pulled a chair back for her. "Thank you. Since when are you such a gentleman?"

"I am always a gentleman, Watson." he whispered in her ear before going back to the kitchen. "Pancakes?" he yelled.

"Please!" She sat uncomfortably on the chair, really wanting to help, but knowing he wanted to do this for her. Plus he was leaving in a few hours. "Sherlock?" she called out and he came back as soon as she did.

"What is it, Joan? Are you okay?" He sat on the table so that he could look at her, his gray eyes trained on her. His hand reached up to touch her face. She was surprised at how natural and comforting it felt.

"Just wondering when you're leaving, that's all." She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "Don't stop doing that." she whispered, surprising herself.

Sherlock leaned in and kissed her forehead softly. Joan never imagined he could be this gentle. He always ran through life roughly and not gentle towards people at all, but the way he was touching her now… "When I'm done eating. When I'm done with you here."

"Will you be done with me here?"

He smiled sadly, before kissing her lips very softly. "No. But sadly, I still have to go." She rose out of her chair and leaned into the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he whimpered when she pressed herself closer to his body. "Joan…Joan, don't, please…" he whispered. He grabbed her face, tangled her hair around his fingers and then pulled back, panting. "I'd love to, really. But we need to eat and I have to leave eventually. This…is very distracting." He kissed her softly, chastely now.

"Sorry." she whispered.

"Don't. Don't apologize. Trust me, you have nothing to apologize for." He went back to the kitchen and Joan sat down with her heart pounding out of her chest, her throat dry and her stomach coiling. "Here." He put down her pancakes in front of her, kissing the top of her head quickly before sitting back down. Hungry, Joan attacked. Sherlock chuckled, and she felt his stare on her face. It felt comforting and uncomfortable at the same time.

When she was halfway through, she downed her lukewarm tea, before she looked back at him. He smiled, his hands under his chin. "Sherlock, what are we going to do?" she murmured, aching to take his hand in hers.

"I don't know." he said, taking her hand and pulling her up and on to his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her close, pressing his lips in her neck. "I honestly don't know. I want to stay with you. I want it so bad, I want to experience with you every night what we've experienced last night. But I can't and you know I can't."

"I know. I wasn't going to argue again. I know why you're doing this, although I don't agree with it for one moment."

Sherlock chuckled softly, lovingly. "I don't doubt that you don't. I wouldn't expect you to, either." He pushed her off his lap gently. "Eat your pancakes, I forgot to do something." He left the room, leaving Joan miserable and heartbroken. Finally, she had found someone who really loved her, and now he was forced to leave her. With pain in her stomach, Joan forced the pancakes down.

He came back two minutes later, holding something closely in his fist. She looked at him curiously as he sat down, facing her directly. "Sherlock, what is it?" she said, when he did not speak a word for a full minute.

"I wanted to give you something." Sherlock took her hand in his and stared at her, making her stomach flutter. "Open your hand." She did and he dropped something in it that felt like a silver chain. She picked it up, staring at it in awe, curiosity coursing through her. The pendant was a small heart, encompassed by two hands, with a crown on top. She vaguely recognized it from somewhere, but couldn't quite place it. "It's a Claddagh ring. In Ireland, it is given to someone to express love, loyalty and friendship."

Joan looked up, her eyes wide. Sherlock was watching her with great care and expectation. "Sherlock…" She felt this meant a great deal to him. She saw that he was trying to convey his feelings towards her, feelings that he had a hard time expressing in words. He would always love her, he would always stay loyal to her, and he would always be her friend. He would simply always be there for her, even when he wasn't around. It was the most beautiful thing someone had ever done for her. She fastened the chain behind her neck and let the ring bump against her heart. "Thank you." She whispered, leaning in and kissing the man in front of her softly.

"I want you to remember me. I want you to know that I will stay faithful to you. I will not ever want someone else." Sherlock whispered against her lips. She felt tears coming up, and she pushed them back frustrated. This wasn't a time to cry. She rose, swung one leg over his legs and settled herself on top of his lap.

"I'll remember you. Of course I'll remember you. I owe you so much. You gave me something no one ever could. Something to live for." she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "I'll be right here, okay? If you come back, I'll be here waiting for you."

"I should tell you that you shouldn't wait for me, and just move on with your life. But I'm a little too selfish for that." he said, kissing her softly. Joan laughed briefly. "But really, you shouldn't."

"That's my choice. And I will."

Sherlock smiled. They sat entwined like that for at least ten minutes before he broke their comfortable silence with the heartbreaking words, "I have to go."

"Let me at least go with you to the boat. Let me see you off." She asked desperately. He sighed, shook his head, but then nodded.

"Get ready, then." he said sadly. "We have to leave soon."

Joan, happy to at least be granted this small favor, ran upstairs to change into something presentable. She chose her black skinny jeans, her dark purple camisole and her knee-high black heels. She wasn't in the mood for light colors. She quickly brushed her hair, and then ran downstairs, where Sherlock was waiting for her. She literally flew down the stairs, and it caused her to trip on the last few steps. He caught her in his arms before she even touched the ground, and they laughed together. Sherlock shifted her in his arms so that he was carrying her bridal style, and then leant down to kiss her. Joan moved her arms around his neck, sighing into the kiss. It was good to be close like this. Especially when they would never be close again.

"Come on." Sherlock whispered, breathlessly. "I really need to go."

He set her down on her feet, taking her coat and holding it out for her to slip into it. She buttoned it, before turning around to look at him. For a moment, neither of them moved, both reluctant to leave the brownstone. Then he grabbed his suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. "Ready?" he asked.

"No." she said honestly.

He chuckled humorlessly. "Me neither." Yet he went for the door, and opened it, pulling her with him. "You'll drive?" She nodded, quickly wiping her eyes to stop tears from coming. "Hey. It's going to be all right. I promise. We'll call, text, Skype. Whatever you want."

She looked up at him, her hopes flaring. "Is that allowed?"

"There were no rules stating otherwise." he said smiling, gently stroking the side of her face. She closed her eyes. "If you want to, we can stay in touch. Just…from different sides of the ocean."

She closed her eyes to force back her tears, and nodded because she was afraid her voice would break if she spoke now. Sherlock pressed a kiss to her forehead, before taking her outside to her car, where he loaded his suitcase into the trunk and opened the door for her to get in. She got behind the wheel while he closed the door and went to the other side. He took her hand when he was seated, giving it a light squeeze, giving her just enough strength to start the car and drive towards the harbor. She wished it was further away, but she knew it was little more than a five-minute drive. Still, she drove as slowly as she could, extending the time they had left for as long as possible.

With a heavy heart, she stopped the car in the parking lot and opened the door. Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her back. She fell back against his chest, and he bent his head to kiss her deeply. "Goodbye kiss?" she whispered.

"'See you again soon' kiss. I do not believe in goodbyes." He traced his fingers over her cheeks as if she was too precious for him to touch. They broke apart, although it pained both of them, and slowly made their way over to the boat. England, it said. Don't forget to set your watch to the correct time. Right. Time difference. Of course.

"I'll miss you, Sherlock." she said, right before customs, taking his hand and pulling him aside. There was a pressure behind her eyes, tears threatening to spill.

Sherlock put his bag down, and turned his attention fully on her. His hands started at her shoulders, moving up to her neck and holding her face tenderly between his fingers. "You changed my life, Joan." he whispered softly, and her heart leapt at his tone. He'd never sounded so heartbroken and filled with emotions. "You made me a better man, brought out the side I never thought I had."

"You did that yourself, Sherlock."

"No. You showed me the merits of being kind to others. You taught me the joy of being a nice person. I love who I am now. I have never before." He smiled, a smile Joan had never seen before on his face.

He looked like he was at peace.

It was beautiful.

"Sir? If you want to catch this boat, ya have to get on right now!" said an attendant, his voice impatient.

Sherlock looked at him, his eyes set and dark. "If you don't want me to tell your boss that you've been stealing from the stocks in the cafe and that you're on drugs, you will allow me a minute with my partner to say goodbye."

The attendant swallowed hard, and nodded, before scurrying off. "Sherlock..." said Joan, reprimanding, but not really meaning it. "You need to go."

He nodded, leaning in and kissing her deeply. His hands were warm and soft on her skin. "I know." he whispered, a little breathless. "Goodbye." And with that, he turned and went through customs quickly. Joan rushed over to see him and when he was through, he turned around one last time. "Joan?" His face was almost desperate, and she saw a fragility never seen before in his eyes. She nodded; she was here, she would see him off, she supported him. "I love you." he said, blinking rapidly. Was he crying?

"Sherlock..." Joan whispered. "I love you, too!" she called at him, and a smile broke through on his face. Then he turned and boarded the boat. That was the last thing Joan saw of him. She bit her lip and covered her mouth with her hands, trying to hold back sobs that were tearing through her body. It felt like her old life was returning in one instant. No Sherlock, only shame. She stood in the abandoned departure hall, collecting herself enough to look at least a little presentable. Then she straightened her back, turning and going for the exit. She was now a woman on a mission. She would make sure Sherlock could return as soon as possible. The sun blinded her when she exited the building, and for a moment she stood blinking.

Then someone appeared in front of her, immediately clouding the bright light. Joan's eyes adjusted quickly, and then her blood boiled. "You."

Moriarty smiled, a cold smile that immediately revealed her stone nature. Joan had no trouble seeing past her walls. "Me. Get in, Ms Watson. We need to talk." A car was parked in front of the building, and the door in the back was opened.

Joan scoffed. "No. You can forget it. What you wanted to happen, happened. Sherlock is gone. He won't be coming back. So if you'd me so kind as to kindly fuck off, I'll be on my way." Joan made to walk around the woman, but there suddenly was a gun pressed against her back.

"I really must insist." Moriarty said, her voice so sweet that Joan's teeth ached. Joan bit her tongue in anger and got in the car. Moriarty slid in beside her and the car sped off.

Please review to let me know I should/shouldn't continue this?