*** A/N: Thank you again for your support and advice, it is greatly appreciated. I hope you are enjoying the story so far, and I apologise for the infrequent updates. I am slightly uncertain about this chapter, and am aware that it may seem OOC. I just felt that it would reflect Joan's actions and concerns should her partnership with Sherlock turn romantic, but again, I am unsure. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy it.
- HQ21
Sherlock was surprised by Joan's action, as well as the impressive strength she had, as she pushed him to the ground. He allowed himself to fall back obediently, and remained perfectly still as he watched her with wonder, as she drew her legs to his sides, pressing her whole body on top of his, before leaning down and kissing him passionately. The power and intensity of the kiss took Sherlock back slightly, but he responded instantly, placing one hand on her hip, and allowing the other to explore her back, stroking her seductively as she deepened the kiss. Sherlock moved his hand from her hip to her cheek, guiding her further into the kiss, which became desperate and full of longing. She moaned audibly as he did so, before adjusting herself so that she was sitting on his lap, and pushing her body down onto his. Sherlock groaned with pleasure at this motion, and she could feel his body quiver expectantly beneath her.
Unlike the night before, their present romantic engagement was much more controlled, and both parties felt more conscious and wary of their actions. Whether this was due to the fact that the atmosphere was different, the emotional link to their sexual desires was not the same as the night before, or simply because they were both wary of the fact that they were in a very public place, was something that neither of them knew. Nor did they place much attention on trying to figure it out. Not at that particular moment, at least.
Sherlock removed his hands from her hip and face, and drew them slowly down her body, causing her to shudder slightly as she released a shaky breath. Her eyes were dark and lustful, and she stared into Sherlock's bright eyes with a look of serenity. As his hands reached the tops of her thighs, he paused for a moment, uncertain of whether to continue. Joan responded to his concerns by taking his hands in her own, pinning them by the side of his face, and pushing them outwards as she leaned in to him, resuming their kissing. Sherlock accepted her movements willingly, squeezing her hands tightly as she continued to hold them firmly to the ground. She was in complete control, and seemed more confident and self-assured than ever, which delighted him. Not purely because it was benefiting him, but because it was benefiting her. He wanted her to learn to trust herself, her instincts and her own desires for happiness and fulfilment. As her hands shook on top of his, before weakening their grasp on him slightly, Sherlock realised that she was seeking his guidance. As soon as he felt her relinquish her hold on his hands, he moved his hands quickly from the ground, placing them back on her hips, and pressing his leg against her side as he turned her over, lying her on the ground as he began kissing her neck.
The gentle and delicate kisses were tantalising and sweet, and caused Joan to close her eyes and lean back, allowing him greater access to her jawline and neck, which he covered in kisses. Sherlock was now resting between her thighs, which she pressed to his sides firmly, holding him close to her. During the kisses, his cheek would occasionally brush hers, and she would plant a tentative kiss upon it, causing him to flush slightly. After a few minutes of this, Sherlock drew his hand slowly up her leg, from her calf to her thigh, just like he had when they were dancing. Joan gasped, releasing a slow and unsteady breath, as his hand pushed up the bottom of her skirt, before resting on the underside of her leg, just a few inches above her knee. Joan pressed herself firmly against Sherlock, urging him to continue, as his kisses trailed lower down her body, past her jaw, chin, neck, and near her collarbone and chest. As he did so, the hand which was planted beneath her thigh massaged her gently, causing her whole body to shake with anticipation. She found herself completely lost in this sensation, which seemed both pleasant and familiar. And yet, tinged with danger and fear. It reminded her of something, of an evening they spent together in a ballroom, just before everything they had sought to protect and maintain was placed at risk by the most dangerous threat they were yet to come across: their physical romantic needs and desires. After a few moments, Joan's eyes snapped open, and she tensed slightly, before stifling a breath.
Despite his exploration of her body, and his attempts at satisfying her, Sherlock was immediately aware of the changes in Joan's physical and emotional demeanour. He stopped kissing her instantly, and removed his hand from her thigh, before drawing his body a few inches from hers, until he was a respectable distance from her. She was staring absent-mindedly to the side, but soon drew her attention to him as he began to call her name gently.
"Watson" he began, his keen and alert eyes darting across her body, trying to understand what was wrong. "Watson, are you alright?"
"Yes" she breathed after a couple of moments, blinking out of her trance, before pressing her palms to the floor beside her and attempting to push herself up. "Sherlock, could you-"
"Yes, yes of course" he stated immediately, removing himself from her, and kneeling by her side. Joan pushed herself up into a sitting position, drawing her legs to one side before turning to face her partner.
"I'm sorry" she mumbled, her eyes narrowing with confusion.
"My dear Watson, you have nothing to apologise for" Sherlock responded immediately, his voice a low and pleasant tone. He waited for a few moments for her to continue but, after receiving no response, began to speak. "What is it that has upset you? Did I-"
"No, no you haven't done anything, Sherlock. And I'm not upset" she stated reassuringly, attempting a small smile. "I just... it's too-". Before she could continue, a familiar dull, buzzing sound came from Sherlock's inside pocket. He did not allow his eyes to leave Joan's face, or even register his incoming call. His attention and concern was devoted entirely to her.
"Will you help me to understand what's wrong?" he asked gently, his voice pleasant and soothing, and full of genuine concern.
"We will talk about it, I promise" she began, offering him another small smile. "But I think you should answer your phone first" she continued, lowering her gaze to his glowing pocket.
"Watson, I have absolutely no interest in anything that is going on outside of this room" he responded kindly, as the phone continued to buzz imploringly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, really. I promise" she stated simply, in a quieter version of her normal tone, before leaning forward and plucking his phone from his pocket. Sherlock did not allow his eyes to leave her face as she did so, which meant that they met each other's gaze as she turned her head up as she held out his phone to him. "Please" she asked, offering him the phone. Sherlock considered for a moment, watching her with confusion and concern, before taking the phone from her and answering it.
"Captain" he stated simply, watching Joan as he spoke. "Yes" he stated, drumming his fingers upon his leg. "Of course, yes, I... we will be there as soon as we are able to. Yes, I do. Mm, yes. Goodbye." He hung up quickly, placing the phone in his pocket before turning to face Joan. "Watson?" he asked gently.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"Please don't apologise, Watson, you have nothing to be sorry for" he responded kindly, offering her a small and reassuring smile. "But there is clearly something wrong, and I would like to help you."
"It's just-" she began after a few moments, before struggling to find the right words. "It's not that I don't want to, I did. I just..." she trailed off, sighing slightly, before continuing to speak. "This is such a huge step for us, both emotionally and physically. I know that... last night, what happened I, I am glad of it and I do not regret it. But I think that it is important that we... that we investigate other areas of our relationship before completely losing ourselves in the physical" she stated simply, glancing towards him with a sense of nervous conviction. "There is so much I want to explore of you, Sherlock. But at this stage, I don't want it to solely be your body." Sherlock was quiet for a moment, but his kind eyes and knowing expression reassured Joan during this brief yet immeasurable interval.
"You're right" he stated simply, in a kind and soothing tone. "This is new for us both, and whilst we have investigated and discussed the emotion sides of the developments of our partnership, we have truly addressed the physical."
"You're right" Joan replied. "I just... I don't want us to rush ourselves, and to become so completely focused on the physical. I think we should... try to exercise some... some restraint."
"I agree" Sherlock stated. "And I apologise if I put you in a position where-"
"You really don't have to apologise for putting me in any position" she stated in a low tone, smiling cheekily at him as she spoke, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I really do not regret last night, or just now. I just think that we should slow it down, physically, at least. It is so easy to lose control."
"Of course, Watson, I quite understand" Sherlock stated, offering her a small smile. Joan nodded in response, before leaning forward and kissing him gently upon the cheek. She allowed her lips to linger on his cool skin for a moment, as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Joan placed a hand upon his cheek, drawing her thumb lightly across his face, as he captured her hand with his, and kissed it tentatively.
"What did Gregson want?" she asked, adjusting her seating position.
"He says that the case is progressing slower than we had hoped, and would like our assistance at the earliest possible convenience."
"Okay" she responded simply, glancing around the room. "Harvey will be here in about ten minutes, so we should probably clear up and call a cab."
"Of course" he responded simply, tilting his head to the side slightly as he spoke. "Are you quite certain that you are alright?"
"Yes" she responded, nodding as she spoke. "And you?" she began, watching him with concern. "Are you alright with-"
"Yes, Watson. Absolutely." He stated with conviction. And she believed him, completely, and found herself flushing slightly at his response. Although she had been enjoying the time they were spending together just a few minutes ago, as soon as his hand had began to caress her thigh, she found herself thinking of the dance they shared when protecting the politician. She remembered how sweet and how intimate it had been, and how they had both let themselves go too far and too fast. She also recalled, with painful recollection, how the quick progression of the physical side of their relationship that night had caused Sherlock to retreat from her, and from himself. The dance itself, and how they both reacted to it, had led to a very uncomfortable few days, when a cloud of uncertainty hung over them, and threatened everything that they had sought so hard to maintain in their coveted relationship. She did not want to risk their partnership, professional or romantic, again. And she certainly did not wish to hurt Sherlock.
"Shall we go?" she asked, drawing herself out from her thoughts. Sherlock nodded kindly in response and, after a brief clean-up of the room, escorted her from the building. As they passed through the front door and began to slowly descend the steps, Sherlock turned back to face the building, leaning back on his heels as he glanced up at the magnificent museum.
"Thank you, Watson" he stated simply, in as kind and gentle a tone as he was able. His voice was so full of genuine gratitude and thankfulness that Joan felt her heart clench in her chest, and nodded automatically in response.
"Thank you" she breathed, an edge of guilt and uncertainty present in her tone.
"I am very grateful, Watson" he began, taking a few steps towards her, before pausing as their bodies were just inches apart. "For everything that we shared inside" he continued, his eyes meeting her own. "I am very glad that we were able to address the issue, and that you felt able to raise the subject with me." Joan smiled slightly, before nodding and then raising her head so that she met his gaze.
"Thank you for listening" she replied. "It means a lot. I know that it may seem hypocritical, given what happened last night, and how much we both enjoyed it. I just... I want to make sure that we are careful. This is very unfamiliar territory for us, and I don't want to compromise what we could have, what we could be" she continued, as Sherlock watched her with patience and kindness. "I don't want to compromise your happiness."
"And I want to ensure yours" he responded, taking her hand in his own, and squeezing it reassuringly. "Whatever that may require."
"For this to work, we need to be honest with each other. We need more emotional disclosure than we have had before. Before we can become so reliant on physical intimacy, we must first experience other types, including the emotional. We need to talk about things that may make us feel uncomfortable or agitated. But it is the only way that this can work." Sherlock nodded in response, before hailing a cab, which pulled up by the pavement.
"It's alright, Watson" he replied, squeezing her hand once more. "It's going to be alright" she nodded, before taking a cautious step forward, and wrapping her arms around him, allowing them to rest up his back. Sherlock returned the gesture immediately, holding her closely to him, before planting a chaste kiss upon her forehead. She smiled into his coat, before disentangling her body from his, and leading him towards the waiting cab.
The journey to the precinct was brief and pleasant and, like in their ride over to the museum, Sherlock and Joan sat close together, their legs pressed against each other's, as they sat casually and contently in the back seat. The journey was passed in almost complete silence, but not an awkward or uncomfortable one. It was peaceful, reflective and utterly calm. So much so, that by the time they pulled up to the precinct, Joan had to check her cell phone for the time, as she could not believe that time had passed so quickly. The partners quickly made their way into the precinct, where an authoritative-looking Captain Gregson was waiting for them.
"Thanks again, guys. I know you only just left but, we have some stuff we need to discuss" he stated simply, before leading Sherlock and Joan to his office, and closing the door behind them. Joan sat on the couch opposite Gregson's desk, and Sherlock stood protectively by her side, and was watching the Captain with anticipation.
"What's happened?" he asked simply, as Gregson leaned back against the front of his desk, crossing his arms as he prepared himself to speak.
"We've got a problem" he began. "What we believed to be a fairly straight-forward, open-and-shut case may just be anything but."
"Please explain" Sherlock responded, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
"About forty five minutes ago, Miss Lennard's parents had one of those over-priced, under-mannered egotistical lawyers over. After a brief conversation with her, she consented to an interview. Instead of her usual blank silence, we received something very different."
"Go on" Joan encouraged.
"She denied everything."
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock interposed, tilting his head slightly to the side as he spoke. Gregson sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as he leaned slightly forward. He then began to speak in a strained and mechanical tone, in a manner that suggested he had made the exact same speech to several other people in a very short space of time.
"Maria Lennard denies any involvement in any murders or attacks. She only confirmed what we already knew, that she was formerly employed by Greta Mathers, who is still unconscious, and may have no memory of her attacks, even if she recovers consciousness." He paused for a moment, watching as the look of frustration passed quickly across the expectant faces of the consulting detectives. "Maria Lennard claims that she heard of her former boss's attack on the news, and visited her apartment to check on her. She says she found her unconscious on the ground, and had just picked up a knife and paperweight when you entered, Miss Watson." Joan nodded once, before clasping her hands together and resting them on her knee, and lifting her head to face Sherlock.
"The evidence is equivocal" Sherlock stated eventually, shifting on the spot slightly, and gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "We cannot prove or disprove her claims based solely on the evidence we have so far. Even your statement, Joan, is open to close scrutiny."
"How? In what way?" she asked, utterly perplexed. Sherlock gave her a cautious glance before continuing.
"It will be a veritable she-said-she-said, with the only evidence confirming Miss Lennard's criminal acts being her alleged discourse with you in the apartment. Based on the events of last year, when we were hauled into court and almost discredited after the incident with Detective Bell, any evidence we give which is not substantiated is open to criticism. Lawyers and some members of law enforcement already believe that we bend the rules, it would not be too hard for them to cast reasonable doubt upon the validity of your evidence in the minds of the jury."
"So what do we do?" she asked, unclasping her hands and leaning back slightly.
"We validate it." He returned simply, before turning back to Gregson. "Captain, the only way we will be able to acquire physical proof of Miss Lennard's guilt is by delving deep into her background, from conception onwards. We need to understand exactly what kind of person she is in order to determine the best way to study her."
"We're already working on it. I've got a couple of people she knows comin' in for interviews tomorrow, and my guys are looking into her history" Gregson said simply. "But we gotta do this by the book" he stated, pointing a finger in the air as he pushed himself away from the desk. "We cannot afford for any doubt to be cast over whether she is guilty or not. As far as I am concerned, and as far as the officers here are concerned, Miss Watson's evidence is airtight. Our need to substantiate it is not a reflection on you" he stated, turning to face Joan, "you have the complete and unreserved support of everyone in this station. But we gotta tread lightly" he continued, glancing back towards Sherlock.
"Of course, Captain. Miss Watson and I will assist in any way we can."
"Thanks" he stated, placing one hand in his pocket as he walked around the room. "And I gotta warn you guys, this case has attracted a lot of media attention. The possibility of a female serial killer is somethin' that everyone wants a piece of, including the press."
"That's understandable" Joan reasoned. "Serial killers are infrequent, especially female ones."
"Precisely" Sherlock stated. "Which will, I believe, be one of the central arguments of Miss Lennard's lawyers who will, I am certain, attempt to cast reasonable doubt across not only the jury, but the nation" he stated, his body language revealing his clear agitation. "Captain, this has the capacity to go very, very wrong."
"I know. Believe me, I know" he stated, raising one hand in the air as he continued to pace the room.
"However" Sherlock began, the confidence in his tone attracting that attention of both Joan and Gregson. "Miss Lennard is not as strong or as versatile as she may appear. She broke under Joan's questioning in the apartment, and I feel certain that her resolve will not hold. But until we can question her again, and lest the evidence we acquire in doing so be questioned or doubted, I believe we should pool our resources, Captain. We need to build a complete picture of this young murderess."
"We're working on it" Gregson stated, frustration evident in his tone.
"Captain" Joan began, her calm and soothing voice attracting Gregson's attention towards her immediately. "This woman brutally murdered several women, and made two attempts on the life of another. We know her name, her methods and her motivation" Joan continued, staring up at the Captain with certainty and conviction. "And we will find what we need to prove it."
"I hope you're right, Miss Watson."
"I assure you, Captain" Sherlock interposed, turning on the spot to face him. "She always is." Joan found herself feeling instantly comforted by his words, and even more certain of her own reassurances to Gregson. "We will start work immediately" he continued, his voice drawing Joan from her thoughts. Gregson then led the consulting detectives into the now painfully familiar room, which now had a new board which replaced the one of Jake Thompson. As Joan entered the room, she found herself facing a large picture of Maria Lennard, which was adhered to the centre of a whiteboard, and surrounded by papers. She studied the material on the board for a few minutes, before following Sherlock over to the large table by the window, and beginning to sift through the files in front of them.
Sherlock and Joan spent over four hours in the room, flicking through files and scrolling through endless pages of computer records, until their tired eyes forced them to take a short break. Joan stood up from the desk and made a quick coffee run, during which time Sherlock allowed his thoughts to depart from the case entirely, and focus on something which he had been forced to relegate to the back of his mind in the wake of the most recent news in relation to the case. He was thinking of Joan's fears of the affects of physical intimacy on their relationship. Or rather, of their allowing themselves to be so overcome by their physical needs that they neglected their emotional ones. He understood that, logically, she was correct, and that for their relationship to progress, and for it to develop in a way which would allow them both to be comfortable and content, they would need to be cautious. The night they shared together was, by far, one of the most incredible nights of his life, and quite unlike any other sexual encounter he had ever experienced. He found that he had connected with Joan on a deeper and much more meaningful level than he had ever connected with anyone before, and he knew that, from her actions and responses, she felt the same. Which was why, initially, he was confused by her concern over their levels of physical intimacy. But once she explained them to him, he found himself not only understanding her concerns, but agreeing with her. He wanted to ensure that she realised that he valued her above the physical and that, like her, he wished to explore more to their relationship than simply the sexual. More than anything, he wanted her to realise just how much she meant to him. And if that meant forgoing their physical liaisons for an unspecified period of time, then that was a price he was more than willing to pay. He had every intention of demonstrating just how much she meant to him, and how much he valued her.
As he was engaged in these thoughts, he heard the door behind him open, and the smell of freshly ground coffee swam in the air. Sherlock turned his head automatically towards the scent, and found his eyes meeting Joan's, as she passed him his cup. He thanked her, before taking a small sip of the soothing and revitalising liquid, before placing the cup on the desk, and turning to face her, waiting for her to sit down before he spoke.
"Watson" he stated, in an amiable and slightly animated manner, which made Joan instantly aware that whatever he was about to say was something he was concerned about. She placed her own cup on the table and turned to face him, watching him with a warm and kind expression, as she waited patiently for him to continue. "I have been giving a great deal of thought to the subject which we were discussing earlier" he began, watching Joan for a reaction. She nodded quickly, and appeared to be quite calm and content as he spoke. "And I was wondering, should you desire spending some time away from this case and in my company" he continued, raising his eyes to meet hers, which continued to watch him with curiosity and kindness, "if you would allow me to take you to dinner this evening?"
Joan watched him for a moment, before glancing down at the overwhelming amount of papers, pictures and files on the desk in front of them. She then turned from the table and met his gaze, smiling warmly at him as she spoke.
"Thank you, Sherlock" she began. "I would love to."