Hello everyone! I've added a playlist to this chapter of songs that I listened to whilst writing (or songs you can listen to whilst reading if you want!) (Disclaimer: I don't own these songs)

Let Her Go – Foxes

Wonderful Life – Hurts

Picking Up the Pieces – Paloma Faith

Breezeblocks – Alt-J

The police came and took statements from them both. A doctor came to confirm life extinct. Sherlock stood numbly, answering their questions but all the while not really being aware of himself. It was almost as if when Irene had died, he had slipped from his own body and was watching himself from a distance. Joan tried to console him but the pain had not even set in yet. Eventually a police officer offered to drive them back to their home, Joan told him that they were staying at the Ritz.

"Listen with respect, I don't think the Ritz will be too pleased if you two rock up with all that blood. I know who you are Mr Holmes, I have heard all about you. If you want to, you're quite welcome to come to the station and clean up beforehand."

Joan thanked him and agreed. Sherlock just looked down at his bloodstained hands; they were all that he had left of Irene. They had already photographed the scene and taken her away. He pictured the red blood mixing with the water, pinking it and then watching it swirl down the drain. It was gruesome but he didn't want to let go. But then he looked across at Joan who was also bloodstained. She had fought so hard to save Irene, not panicking, just going into doctor mode. Joan would want to wash it away for to her, Irene was now a patient that she had lost. So Sherlock agreed to go to the police station and use their showers.

...

He stood naked, outside of the shower, hesitant.

Washing away her blood was like shredding her letters all over again. He knew he would regret it later.

How could he have been so stupid to have been taken in by 'Irene' and her scheme? For that matter, how could he be so stupid to stand mourning her for a second time after everything?

Sherlock couldn't take it any longer.

He threw back his head and let out a scream. It was deep and sorrowful, he was screaming for all to hear, for Irene to hear.

But it wasn't Irene who heard.

Joan pushed open the door to the men's showers. She was clean and had borrowed a top from a kind stranger, to replace her bloodstained one.

"Sherlock?" she asked softly, tapping on one of the cubicle doors.

He opened it slowly and outstretched his arms, offering the bloodstains to her.

"I can't do it Joanie. I can't wash-her-away." His voice broke and he began crying again.

"Let her go Sherlock". She pulled him into a hug. Joan was catching a glimpse into vulnerable Sherlock. His nakedness and the bloodstains compounding this. "I know it's hard sweetie, but you can't torture yourself like this."

He broke free from the embrace and walked under the stream of water. The dried blood came away, pinked in the water and swirled away.

"I know she hurt you bad Sherlock and you have every right to grieve. But don't let her destroy you. Please."

...

"Woman like that would have had enemies. Wouldn't even know where to start to look for suspects if I was the British police." Gregson said to Joan, offering her a coffee from the personal coffee maker in his office. "And she said she knew who took my family?"

"Yeah, apparently she was annoyed about it; she had put out instructions for Sherlock to be left alone."

"So much for that. How is he taking it?"

"Not great. We flew back to New York the next day. He hasn't really mentioned it. Or anything for that matter. I'm just giving him space."

"That's probably the right thing to do. Watch him though please Joan..."

"Oh I know a relapse trigger when I see one."

...

Joan returned to the Brownstone to find Sherlock in the kitchen, cooking noodles.

"I was thinking Joan, you never did get a chance to tell your family about our engagement."

Joan frowned and took off her shoulder bag, setting it down on the kitchen counter.

He continued. "Call them, invite them out to dinner, I can't wait to tell them."

He was acting if nothing had changed.

"Sherlock, if you think it's too soon since... then that's ok. I can wait."

"No!" he said firmly, putting down the ladle he was using to stir the noodles. "Irene is gone. And if you ask me she got her comeuppance. I'm moving on. Besides, I bet you can't wait to show them your ring."

"I don't know who you're trying to kid, but it's not going to work on me. I know how torn up by this you are. And that's ok. I can wait to show off my ring or whatever; right now I am focussed on you."

"I'm fine! Honestly I am more than okay. In fact it is kind of a relief to finally know what happened to her. I can't tell you how many times in my head I would stare into that pool of blood that I found and imagine the horrific things that they had done to her because of me. Now I know it was some other poor bastard who had their blood drained. I got my answers. When I went to that cafe I wanted answers and well, like it or not, I got them. So please, stop worrying, call your parents and get some bowls out for these noodles."

"You were so torn up after though, not wanting to wash the bl_"

"I was in shock Joan. The woman I had once loved was shot in front of me and bled to death in my lap. Others would be shaken up too." I would be lying to say that I am not totally over it but I wasn't before was I? At long last I have closure and I have you."

Sherlock had satisfied Joan for now, although she couldn't help but feel dubious. Nonetheless, she called her parents and a few days later the four of them met for lunch. Mr and Mrs Watson were delighted that Sherlock was showing true commitment to "their Joanie".

Mr Watson even jokingly pretended to be annoyed that Sherlock hadn't asked his permission beforehand.