The following morning Joan woke up to the sound of violin playing. She didn't recognize the song, it must've been one of Sherlock's own compositions. It was slow and it was played at a peaceful and calm cadence, she slowly became aware of her surroundings as her mind was lulled by the beautiful music. She lazily opened her eyes and instantly smiled, knowing that when he was finished he would come to wake her up, but for now, she stretched in her bed like a cat and looked at the ceiling.

She had had the first restful sleep in quite a while. The previous week or so had been a nightmare both for her and for Sherlock, and her nights had been marked for tossing and turning in bed, only falling asleep in the wee hours of the morning when exhaustion overtook her. Sherlock, as far as she could tell, had been living a similar nightmare, with the added fact that he knew it was all his doing and he felt guilty for it.

Joan sighed and ran her hand through her hair, scattering it around the pillow and tousling it even more than it was. She was concerned about the possible consequences the events of this week might have on Sherlock and his little side. Would he be willing to regress now, or would he fight it? Would Sherlock still be comfortable around her and want her as his caregiver? Lots of questions ran through her head, and she sighed, not knowing the answer to any of them. She guessed she would have to give him time to put his thoughts and feelings in order, he always took some time to process things before he confided in her. She wasn't worried, she was aware that was how he operated and was willing to give him space and time he needed, as long as he finally turned to her when he was ready.

Her thoughts were interrupted when suddenly the music stopped and not long afterwards, the door of her bedroom opened.

"Morning, Watson" came his happy high-pitched voice from the ajar door. Joan turned her head to look at him and smile, he was already dressed in his usual attire but no shoes, his socks bright red and green. Her smile grew wider as she scoffed, he had a particular love for eccentric, colourful socks.

"Good morning" she answered, already sitting up on the bed and resting her back against the bedpost while Sherlock went into the room, violin in one hand and bow in the other "what a great way to wake me up, Sherlock, that song was beautiful"

"Well, you know rousing you is a rather lovely pastime of mine" he answered with fondness and a sweet smile, even as she noticed his neck and ears turning a slight shade of red in embarrassment "kettle's just boiled and breakfast is ready downstairs. Will you come?"

"Of course. Give me five" she answered, already moving the blankets and sheets and getting out of bed.

Sherlock nodded and gave her a smile before retreating, letting her time to put her red cardigan on and go to the bathroom first.

When she got to the kitchen, she was momentarily surprised. Sherlock's breakfasts were usually elaborate and included a bit of everything, but this was like something out of a hotel: coffee, tea, fruit, sausages, scrambled eggs, bacon... everything she might fancy was on the table, hot and ready to be eaten.

"Sherlock... wow, this is amazing" she commented while looking at all the food with wide eyes, hearing her stomach rumble. She could see his nervous expression and twitching of his lips out of the corner of her eyes "what's this for?"

"Nothing" he answered trying to sound nonchalant, but the bouncing on his feet betrayed him "I just... wanted to thank you. For everything"

He said nothing else but he didn't need to. Joan looked at him, his warm but nervous gaze, the way he bounced on his feet and his arms wobbled at his side... he wanted to do something nice for her, and was anxious about her response.

Joan smiled widely, and she closed the space between them in two strides to quickly peck his cheek. He looked surprised, but soon his eyes softened and he smiled shyly.

"It's amazing, thank you" she whispered, her smile not disappearing "but I expect you to eat it with me"

"With pleasure, Watson" he answered as he pulled a chair out so Joan could sit.

She did, surprised and humbled by his sudden gentlemanliness, and he sat on the chair next to her, again foregoing the previous distance they had had for years.

Joan suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside and grazed her knee with Sherlock's while he served coffee for her and tea for himself, openly smiling at how happy this change in their physical relationship made her feel. For years she had been very aware of Sherlock's discomfort at open displays of affection, and she tried to keep them to gentle grazes or squeezes, rarely going beyond that. He was a sexual animal, she'd seen his long string of sexual "paramours" as he called them on several occasions, but there was a clear distinction between sex and casual affection. She knew to keep the latter at a minimum.

Now, as she took a couple of plates and served food for him and herself, feeling Sherlock's warmth next to her and his knee gently grazing against hers, she could do nothing but smile comfortably, knowing he also wanted and looked for those attentions. Being little had changed things between them, there was no doubt about it, and it had made Sherlock much more open and comfortable with their physicality. Joan was still surprised when he was the one initiating contact as his adult self, and she found endearing the way he always moved slowly and methodically, as if he was calculating the odds of her retreating. But that never happened, and Sherlock was slowly showing more signs of wanting to be close to her, not afraid to ask for it.

They started to eat and a conversation ensued easily, talking around their full mouths as their legs never stopped their brushing.

"By the way, I have news," Joan said a while later. Breakfast had been eaten and now she was savouring her coffee "the Captain sent a text yesterday. Hernan was caught. He's going away for good"

Sherlock sat back and took his cup of tea with him, he grew silent and his expression turned pensive. He didn't seem troubled, though, he seemed... relieved.

"Forever?"

"There's a good chance" Watson replied with confidence "you won't have to worry about him anymore, Sherlock. It's over."

Sherlock turned his head to his right, where Joan was sitting, his eyebrow raised as if looking for confirmation. Joan nodded and smiled, her expression soft.

"It's over" Sherlock repeated her words with relief, and for the first time, Joan could almost physically see how a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. His previously pressed lips grew into a grin so wide that he was showing his teeth, and Joan loved it. He was more than happy, he was ecstatic!

"Yes, it's over" she repeated with a smile of her own, placing a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her, he didn't do any movement to respond to Joan's gesture but he didn't need to. His loving, blissful eyes told her everything she needed.

She took another sip of her coffee, trying to hide her openly wide smile but finding it impossible. After so much suffering Sherlock had had to endure and after so much pain and tears this past week, seeing him happy and relieved was a treat for Joan.

However, she couldn't forget what had transpired the day before. Despite being alleviated about Hernan's news, she couldn't forget that Sherlock had been very close to relapsing. Only her stubbornness to not leave him, even when he was pushing her away, had prevented him from getting his hands on heroin or god knows what.

Her thoughts took her back to years ago, back when she was going to therapy with Dr Creed and she was Sherlock's sober companion. They discussed his cases and, upon learning that Joan had lied to Sherlock about Morland renewing her contract, she told her that perhaps staying with him was a mistake. Perhaps her prolonged stay beyond her contract was becoming an enabler, and the moment he found out she'd lied to him he would spiral downward. She warned her that perhaps her eventual absence would become a cause for his relapse.

That had been years ago, way before Joan became Sherlock's partner and equal, and long before their friendship flourished. Now, however, Joan was frightened to discover that her therapist was right: her presence had been the only thing between him and the drugs. If she had given up on him things would've turned out for the worse, and she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't be the thing that decided Sherlock's fate in regards to his sobriety, he had to take that power back and own it.

"Listen, Sherlock. Have you talked to Alfredo lately?" she said in a light voice.

"No, I haven't. I've been... preoccupied" Sherlock answered, looking at her through narrowed eyes "why?"

"Well, this week has been hard for you. I know you would've regretted if you relapsed, but the fact is that you wanted to use again. That hasn't happened in a long time, and I think you should go to a meeting"

"I... I'm not sure that's what I need" Sherlock answered, his voice deep "it's true that I wanted to use, but I didn't"

"I know you didn't, and I'm glad you were strong enough this time" Joan insisted, her voice soft but concerned "but if I hadn't been here you would've used. That's something you need to come to terms with" Sherlock was looking at an unspecific point on the windows before them. Joan sighed "I'm not your sober companion anymore, you know I can't force you to do anything. But I'm worried, what if I hadn't been there all along? What if I had been running errand and you thought I'd left?"

Sherlock was rendered silent but he was deep in thought, Joan knew because of his set expression. She reached with one hand and placed it on his forearm, Sherlock was surprised at the unexpected touch but it was welcome, she could see his almost imperceptible twitch of his pressed lips.

"I just... you know I trust the program and I'm fully committed to it" Joan nodded, she didn't need to be told as much, she'd been witness to Sherlock's change of attitude towards the program "but I don't feel... comfortable talking to them about this. Not yet..."

Joan sensed there was more coming so she stayed silent.

"I know what I did was unforgivable" he whispered "I pushed you away because I didn't want you to see how much of a failure I really am. And now that it's over... I fear you'll heed my words and disappear when I －"

"Hey" she interrupted. Her hand went to his cheek, cupping it gently as well as forcing him to look at her in the eyes "Sherlock, I'm not going anywhere, no matter how many times you push me away. The only way for me to leave is if I'm convinced you'll be happier without me"

Sherlock looked at her and blinked as if to dispel unshed tears.

"That will never happen, my dear Watson" he whispered, and Joan was taken aback by how much emotion slipped through those words.

When he was little he was capable of speaking about his undying love for her but when he was big, he used other, often more subtle words to tell her how deeply he cared for her. He'd never called her dear, and it was still both shocking and pleasant when she heard it from his mouth. She smiled a bit shyly, embarrassed at his candour, and Sherlock half-returned the smile.

"You are not a failure, and you've proven that many times" she whispered encouragingly "but you need to come to terms with what happened, make sense of it, and talking might help. If you don't want to talk in a meeting, then at least call Alfredo. Go and see him. Even if he isn't your sponsor, he's still your friend."

Then she leaned over to plant a sweet, slow kiss on his cheek. She lingered there, her lips brushing against his rough, stubbly cheek.

"And you don't have to worry about me leaving. With whom else would I get such a great breakfast?"

She tried to lighten the mood and it worked, Sherlock snorted slightly at her comment. Then he sighed, his long fingers grabbing the hand that was still on his cheek. He slowly tilted his head to one side and kissed Joan's wrist, atop her pulse point, and rested his lips there for a while, as if making sure she was alive and well, feeling her heartbeat pulsating through. Joan sucked a breath, touched by his gesture, and kept silent while Sherlock turned her hand over and kissed her knuckles delicately and repeatedly, his kisses so soft and gentle his lips barely grazed the skin.

"Alright, I'll call him" he relented finally, and then he looked up at her with a soft smile, his large hand still holding hers.

Joan nodded, satisfied.

"Where are you going to be? The precinct?"

"No, not today" she answered, finishing her coffee. She didn't want to break the calm, comfortable spell in the atmosphere but she had to get going "I have some errands to run"

She didn't say what errands she was going to be running and Sherlock didn't ask, respecting her privacy. All the better, she thought, she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him what she was going to do before the fact. She just needed to set the record straight with a certain man who seemed to have taken as a personal mission to hurt his son at every turn.

After breakfast Sherlock and Joan went their separate ways, Sherlock having called Alfredo to visit him at his house, and she to Morland's office. When she got there she demanded to get in, despite his secretary's protestations that she didn't have an appointment.

"Tell him Joan Watson is here to see him" she said in what Sherlock had named her "doctor" voice, which was stern and firm.

The secretary did so, and a few seconds later she was surprised to be asked to usher Joan towards Morland's office.

"Ah Joan, what a lovely surprise" said Morland when Joan got in and the secretary closed the glass door behind her.

Joan didn't greet him, she walked straight to his desk and tossed, rather violently, her handbag onto one of the chairs. The businessman looked at her through narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, she could tell he was trying to deduce what she was going to do or say from her stance and body language. Joan knew her body language was saying enough of her intentions but she also knew that, even though Morland's skills of deduction were better than most, they didn't beat his son's.

"I won't be long" Joan said with a warning tone "I just wanted to ask you why."

"Why?"

"Don't play games with me. Yes, why. Why did you force Sherlock to ditch the only thing that was keeping him balanced, why did you make him feel like such a failure for trying to get better?"

Morland sighed, then stood from the chair and took a couple of steps, giving Joan his back and looking through the window behind the desk. His hands were clasped behind his back, his straight and tense shoulders the only hint that he was uncomfortable.

"Do not speak of what you do not understand, Joan. Sherlock is only a spoiled child, always has been" Morland's voice came. It was deep and it held a tone of controlled anger that set Joan's teeth on edge "and now what? He wants to be a baby again to do what? To prove, beyond his words, that I was a bad father? He's just doing this to spite me, to －"

"If you believe that you're more an idiot than Sherlock gives you credit for"

Morland turned around in a swift movement, surprised by Joan's harsh tone and words. But she didn't back down. She felt her blood boil at his words and she breathed through her nose, trying to keep a calm exterior.

"You tell me to not speak about what I don't understand, but it's you who doesn't get it" Joan seethed through gritted teeth "you hurt Sherlock in every possible way you can hurt a child. YOUR son, Morland. Blood of your blood" she crossed her arms in front of her in a stern position "tell me, how long has it been since you've seen him cry?"

Morland seemed stunned by the question, his eyes blinking in rapid succession. He didn't even register that Joan wasn't calling him Mr Holmes anymore.

"It must've been... decades" he managed to croak, avoiding Joan's gaze "probably when his mother... passed"

"And have you seen him look for comfort from another person, besides his mother?"

Joan knew she was pressing all the right buttons as Morland gulped and she saw the quickening of his pulse on his throat, his carotid artery bulging visibly under the skin. His gaze was averted, no longer looking at her but an unspecified point on the wall behind her.

"No, I have not."

Joan sighed. She wasn't about to disclose Sherlock's behaviour when he was little, that was only between her and him, but she needed Morland to be affected by the situation he'd put his son in.

"Then you should be relieved to know that now he does. And he's not the spoiled child you want to believe he is" Joan answered "do you know all he asks of me? That I do not abandon him"

She let her words break Morland's defences by pausing for a few seconds. She didn't even know how she still was in control of herself, seeing Sherlock's father in front of her, knowing he was the reason for Sherlock's pain, was awakening instincts she didn't even realize she had.

"He's afraid I'll do what you did, what everyone else did. You took his mother away from him and sent him off to boarding school, making him feel like he was a burden. When his mother died you pushed him away, and he was only a boy Morland. A child" Joan stopped for a second to catch a breath and continued "and you think he's doing this to spite you? He's doing this to survive."

She knew her words were having the intended effect. Morland Holmes didn't cower, Morland Holmes didn't back down in front of anyone, especially not a woman. However, if anyone had heard their conversation they would've seen that in this instance it was simply not true. His previously straight and tense shoulders were now hunched down, looking at Joan but not directly at her face, taking her words as physical blows to his stomach.

"It's over, Morland. I won't let you come close to Sherlock again"

Those words seemed to make him react. His eyes went directly to Joan's, one raised eyebrow in question and surprise.

"I beg your pardon?"

But Joan wasn't relenting.

"I told you once before that I wouldn't let you hurt Sherlock. You did, and that's something I'm not willing to forgive nor forget" she warned him, her finger pointing at him "you will not go to him again. You will not call him, you will not come by the Brownstone, and you definitely will not cause him more pain"

"Is that a threat, Joan? I never thought you capable of that" Morland said in false mockery.

"You don't want to know what I'm capable of for the people I love"

Despite his mockery, Joan's words fell heavy in the room, rendering him virtually silent. He looked at her eyes, ablaze with rage and passion, and gulped. He'd mocked Sherlock before for his feelings for Joan and had warned him he would end up hurting her. But what Morland hadn't counted on was Joan actually reciprocating his feelings, and now he was made aware that they were reciprocated and taken very seriously.

The tone of her words had brought forward a sense of finality. She sighed, still with anger and adrenaline coursing through her body, and she forced herself to breathe deeply a couple of times to regain some of the control that had slipped. She had, after all, threatened one of the most powerful men on the planet, and that was no easy feat.

However, Morland seemed to be taking Joan's words very seriously. He sighed and walked towards his desk, his body falling onto the chair. His fingertips tapped together as in prayer while he placed his hands under his chin in a pensive mode, his eyes half-closed, his forehead creased with worry. He seemed decades older than he was and Joan squinted, maybe her words had had some effect on the stern man?

He stayed silent for a while, Joan still standing and looking at him, not moving a single muscle and just waiting.

"For what it is worth, I am sorry," Morland said after a few seconds of silence. His voice was deep and troubled "Sherlock was a... difficult and troubling boy. He needed a lot from me, more than Mycroft and much more than I was ready or knew how to give"

Joan sighed too, some of her anger assuaging in her.

"I know he's difficult, even now. Trust me, I know. But the one thing he wanted, the only thing he needed back then, was for you to hold him and be a father to him. That's all" Joan affirmed, her voice perhaps a tad softer yet still relentless "now it's just too late"

Morland looked up to lock eyes with her, and she was shocked to see them wet. No tear left his eye but it was obvious he was affected. He cleared his throat and was silent for a while while he regained his composure. To say that Joan was surprised was an understatement, she hadn't imagined her words would cut so deep into the businessman's icy heart.

"Did I really hurt him so much?"

Joan sighed internally. She didn't want to tell him, she didn't think it was useful to Sherlock's progress, but she wasn't about to lie to him either. Morland needed to know exactly what he'd done and to what extent.

"He was on the brink of breaking" Joan confirmed, and heard Morland suck a shaking breath "but he's managing now. And being little, despite what you think, is helping him."

"How? How does... behaving like a child help?"

"By venting out his frustrations and pain in a way an adult, particularly an adult Sherlock, never could, and by having someone there to take care of him" she answered, not wanting to explain further.

Morland nodded, she could tell he didn't understand what she meant by that, but she wasn't about to disclose any more.

"For once, do your son a favour. Don't judge him for his choices in life, and don't you dare judge him for wanting to get better" she said, then her voice grew more a few degrees more serious "and if you hurt him again you'll have to answer to me"

"I understand," Morland said finally, remorse very obvious in his voice "I know my apologies mean nothing to him, but... if you could pass them on to my son for... any pain I very obviously have caused. And your warning is duly noted"

Joan nodded, and with a whispered goodbye, she grabbed her handbag, turned around and left the office, feeling a bit relieved and somehow, remorseful. She'd expected the man to mock her and his son, to kick her out of the office even (not verbally or physically attack her, though, Morland was too subtle for that). What she didn't expect, however, was for her words to have such an effect on him. She half-smiled to herself, satisfied despite everything, as she walked down the road to catch a taxi back home.

While Joan was on her ride home, Sherlock was already at the precinct. The meeting with Alfredo, apart from being a mind-blowing dump of information on the poor guy, had had its benefits for Sherlock. After the initial surprise and the occasional giggle of imagining him with a pacifier in his mouth, Alfredo had gone back to his helpful self and had told him to return to the first steps of the AA program.

One of those steps was to make amends. Sherlock had already begun to do that when he'd found out Mycroft had passed, and he'd been trying to do the same with his father, up until the previous week that is. He had already apologised profusely to Joan for what he'd done more times than he could count, but there were still two people he'd hurt and needed to fix things with; Marcus and the Captain.

So, that's where he was, the Captain's office at the precinct. The Captain was in his usual chair behind his desk, Marcus was standing close to the door, and Sherlock was sitting on the grey sofa looking at a fixed point of the wall behind Gregson.

"I think I should begin by explaining what has been going on" Sherlock started, trying that his voice didn't tremble.

He found his anxiety riling up and he stood up from the sofa rather abruptly, deciding to pace the Captain's office instead. His hand went to the back of his head, rubbing it to try and collect his thoughts, his other arm wobbling next to his body.

"We know what has been going on" Marcus answered, perhaps sensing his predicament and anxiety "both of us has seen you being little, we know this was very hard on you. And Joan told me about your father. We understand that and you know we won't judge. What we'd like to know is why you pushed Joan away, and by extension, us."

Sherlock gulped and averted his gaze, ashamed at his behaviour.

"I... I was embarrassed. My father's visit made me feel ashamed of what I was attempting to do, but being forced to forego everything was... challenging" he gulped, trying to go past the lump on his throat "being little gives me the chance to feel again, and to deal with those feelings. But after that... all I wanted was to forget and to feel numb, to use again" he put emphasis on the word and saw out of the corner of his eye both the Captain and Marcus's eyes going wide at his confession "but in order for me to do that, both you and Joan had to go. I don't... I never wanted to drag her down with me. Same as you."

If their shocked expressions and concerned gazes served as reference, they seemed to understand. Sherlock, even in the haze of his pain and unfruitful search for oblivion, never wanted Joan or them to see him spiral down of control.

"She's far too pure to be with me. For an unfathomable reason, she has stayed, even when I've brought nothing but pain to her" he confessed, his voice almost breaking. He gulped "you have also stayed with me, offering me support when I deserve none. And I apologise. My behaviour was... appalling. It has no excuse, and I would understand if you don't want me as a consultant for the NYPD－"

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there," the Captain said raising a hand and interrupting him, Sherlock's lips closed shut.

Gregson got up from his chair and walked towards the consultant, his pace slow and non-threatening. When he was in front of him he placed a hand on his shoulder, and Sherlock felt the weight of it.

"You are one of the most stubborn, insubordinate, self-absorbed people I know," the Captain said, his voice stern. However, he then smiled and his voice turned softer "but in this case, I see that you were trying to do the right thing, or at least you thought you were. The thing is, Sherlock, you were wrong"

At that, Sherlock looked up and locked eyes with the Captain, he was looking at him with sympathy in his eyes.

"You should know by now that Joan will never let you go, and neither will we. I believe you're a great asset to the department, so, I accept your apology and I'm willing to let this go and let you consult again on one condition"

"Which is?"

"That when something like this happens again, you don't turn your back on us. You trust us to help you deal with it" the Captain said with a warm, encouraging voice "we're not only colleagues, Sherlock, I think we're already past that point. We're friends."

Sherlock felt a knot in his chest and tears welling up in his eyes, touched by his words. He sniffled and shook his head momentarily as he blinked, trying to dispel them. He'd realized that ever since he had given in to his instincts and had indulged his little side, his feelings ran closer to the surface than before. He gulped, trying to go past the lump in his throat.

He then saw Marcus, who'd been standing right next to the door and listening the whole time, walking towards them. Sherlock looked at the Detective and saw a kind smile on his lips as he stopped next to the Captain, right in front of Sherlock.

"You know what I think about you, we've worked together long enough. Just consider this: if I can deal with you being a full-grown spoilt adult, don't you think Uncle Marcus can deal with a little Sherlock?"

"Uncle Marcus?" Sherlock repeated with a lopsided, surprised smile.

"Joan gave me the idea and it sounds great," Marcus said with a playful smile "and I'll be glad to be just that for you. If you let me"

"If you let us" the Captain added.

Sherlock looked at the two men, a couple of tears finally spilling from his eyes. He realized he had been blind, his need for drugs and his shame had prevented him to see just how cared for he really was, to what extent these people were willing to have him in their lives. He already had the notion but this had shown him that he didn't just have friends and a support system, he had a family. Not one by blood but by choice, one that was bound by love and respect. He had very nearly broken that, and even then, these people were willing to forgive and forget.

He looked at them, his nostrils flaring as he tried to regain composure.

"Thank you" he choked out, incapable of saying anything else. But they understood. The Captain squeezed his shoulder once again before letting go.

Not long later Sherlock received a text from Joan, she was already back at the brownstone and was asking if he was okay. He texted her back and told her he'd be home soon. He thanked both men and caught a taxi home, all the while thinking about how he couldn't wait to wrap his arms around her again.

"Watson!" Joan heard his voice coming from upstairs and the front door closing and she smiled. Just in time for tea, she thought.

"Down here!" she shouted, knowing he'd come downstairs in a second. Soon enough, she heard his footsteps, the creaking of the old wooden stairs audibly signalling his approach.

"Hey" Joan greeted him when he got to the kitchen, she was still giving her back to him "kettle's just boiled, do you want some tea?"

"Yes thank you" he answered, and she poured water in the teapot and let it settle for a bit, putting the cosy on it to keep it warm "I've just been to the precinct. The Captain has given us a few days to "get back to our feet" as he put it, he'll call us when he has an interesting case for us"

Joan turned around to look at him. She immediately noticed he looked different, his stance much more at ease than she'd seen him in weeks, his shoulders were relaxed and slightly hunched, his hands unclenched next to his body, he was just bouncing slightly on his feet.

"Did you talk to them?"

"I did, and apologised" he answered, taking a couple more steps towards her and manoeuvring around her to grab two mugs from the cupboard as Joan took out the sugar, honey and milk "Alfredo suggested it"

Joan smiled, she knew calling Alfredo would be the right way to go. She had already told Sherlock he should talk to their friends and apologise, and he was aware that was something he needed to do. But she knew that Alfredo would find the way to convince him to do it as soon as possible. She smiled as she nodded approvingly.

"I'm proud of you" she whispered, her smile wider when she saw Sherlock's slightly abashed but pleased expression, a light blush on his cheeks.

She turned around to pour them tea when she noticed a pair of arms encircling her waist, her back colliding with a strong, warm chest. She felt his stubbly cheek rub against her skin until his chin rested on her right shoulder, inhaling the scent of her hair, intoxicating himself with it.

"I... I missed you" he whispered against her skin, his voice husky and deep, sounding a bit embarrassed. His arms hugged her more tightly once his words had left his mouth, and Joan felt something akin to love and affection bubble inside her chest.

Her hands left the teapot on the counter and went towards his arms, which were settled against her stomach, and she gently squeezed them.

"Oh, honey... I missed you too" Joan whispered. She tilted her head so she could kiss his cheek, enjoying immensely the way the stubble felt against her lips.

Judging by how tightly he was holding on to her Joan could see he needed her physical presence and comfort. Ever since Hernan's arrest and the subsequent fallout it had been the first time they'd been apart, and not having Joan around for hours was bound to affect Sherlock somehow. To be honest, she had also missed his presence, it was hard to be parted from him for too long now.

Sherlock's grip was strong but she wriggled and managed to turn around and return his embrace, pulling him close as he breathed in and out, not upset but clearly needing her close. She rested her face against his clavicle, letting him rest his against the top of her head.

"I'm right here, sweetheart" she whispered, letting him draw comfort from her and find peace in her embrace as she gently swayed them both left and right, their bodies organically moulding to each other and calling out for each other as if they were made to fit perfectly.

Neither of them knew how long they stood there relishing in each other's embrace and warmth until she felt Sherlock draw back a little. She let him go, returning to their mugs and handing one to him with a soft smile.

"I have something to tell you" she stated, sitting down on one of the chairs and beckoning Sherlock to sit next to her. He did, sipping on his tea and leaving the mug on the table with anticipation "I went to see your father today"

She carefully observed Sherlock's expression, she needed to make sure she hadn't overstepped, and saw bewilderment and surprise flick through his eyes. He scowled his features momentarily, she knew he didn't really know how to react so he was pulling away, so she took a deep breath, wanting to allay his fears.

"He won't hurt you anymore," she told him, her voice warm and steady, "I told him why we were doing this and told him to not call again unless he was ready to accept it"

Sherlock locked eyes with her, and the moment he did his mask fell. His pupils dilated with fear and he leaned forward on his chair, stopping just mere inches away from her.

"Did he... did he hurt you? Is he going to evict us?"

Joan smiled softly and shook her head.

"No, nothing like that" she answered "I didn't tell him about the drugs. And even if I had, you didn't use, so his threat wouldn't apply"

"Still. You know my father, he gets what he wants one way or another; if he wanted to take the brownstone back for himself he－"

"He won't" she interrupted him "in fact, he seemed quite shocked when I warned him. I think he honestly regrets what he did"

Sherlock said nothing, he seemed to be thinking, considering how he should feel exactly in front of these new developments. Joan smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, as Sherlock looked at her.

"He won't hurt you again, I promise. I won't let him" she whispered.

Sherlock nodded, his eyes glistening slightly.

"You don't know how grateful I am for this, Watson" he mumbled, and his voice sounded shaky.

"You don't have to be. I needed to do this too" she answered "I won't let him hurt my little boy again. He's going to have to answer to me if he does"

Sherlock nodded again, gulping, as Joan kept her hand on his shoulder, her fingers rubbing the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body against her palm.

"Can I... I need..." Sherlock tried, but it seemed he couldn't voice what he wanted to say. Joan squeezed his shoulder again, reminding him that she was with him. Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at her with pleading eyes "I'd like to be little... if you are amenable, that is"

"I'm more than amenable, honeybee" Joan used a new term of endearment she'd never used before. She smiled when seeing Sherlock's ears turn red, and her hand that had previously been on his shoulder travelled towards his cheek, brushing the back of her fingers against his skin.

Her other hand went towards his breast pocket confidently, no doubt in her mind about what she would find, and took out the pacifier he always kept hidden in there.

"I've missed my baby boy today" she whispered, biting the insides of her cheek, slightly embarrassed, as she offered Sherlock the dummy.

Sherlock's lips grabbed the rubber of the pacifier and closed around it, starting to suck as soon as he did. His eyes closed momentarily and he took a deep breath to then release it through his nose, his shoulders relaxing immediately as he rested his back against the chair.

"I 'issed you too 'oanie" he whined, his voice as little as they come, before he jumped from his seat and climbed onto Joan's lap.

She allowed it, letting him find a comfortable position before she encircled him with her arms and placed a kiss on his forehead. He wasn't crying, thank god, and he wasn't upset, but he noticed that the very same itch she had had all day to hold him was the same he had been feeling as well. An itch to be together, to take care of her child and to spoil him rotten.

She smiled softly, feeling Sherlock's muscles relax and release their tension under her touch, his body much calmer and heavier than before. Joan felt relief washing through her, for the first time in weeks they could enjoy their mutual company and Sherlock could be little not because he couldn't control his urges, not because his feelings got the better of him, but because he simply wanted to. Morland hadn't taken that desire away from him after all, and Joan could only feel alleviated she hadn't lost her little detective in the process. She held him tight, caressing his thinning hair at the top of his head, tousling it and smoothing it in equal measure.

"What do you say we put a nappy on and watch some TV, mmh?" Joan asked a while later. She had finished her tea and had nudged Sherlock to finish his, but he hadn't wanted it "would you like some cuddles in bed?"

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, not feeling the need to speak. She nudged him up, took a couple of minutes to prepare a bottle for him, and together they went upstairs towards Joan's bedroom, which was slowly becoming their bedroom. She had made some space in her closet to stash a few nappies and one of Sherlock's child pyjamas, which worked perfectly since now she didn't have to go back and forth to his bedroom to pick up stuff.

The boy walked straight to bed and lay there, not needing to be told what to do, as Joan took one of the nappies out of the bag and put it on, putting the pyjamas on him too. He looked positively adorable with his paci and clad in his Midnight Ranger pyjamas (a joke between them). He kept making slurp sounds as he sucked the pacifier, his eyes open and observing her.

The way he stared when he was little was incredibly different from the way he did when he was big, Joan had noticed. When he was big he was analytical, his brain making deductions as fast as his eyes observed and catalogued input. When he was little, however, he wasn't analysing or deducing. He was, simply, looking, taking everything in as any child would, absorbing information like a sponge. And giving it.

His entire stance, movements and body language changed and the way he was looking at her now, with pure adoration and trust in his eyes... Joan didn't think she could ever get used to being looked at with such feeling and fondness Sherlock's eyes held when he was little. It was like she was his entire universe, like he was seeing stars in her eyes, and she wondered if maybe that was the feeling he was going after when he was using drugs.

When she was finished changing him Sherlock stretched out his arms, opening and closing his palms. Joan smiled, knowing that meant he wanted to be held, and she moved to sit on the bed with her back resting against the bedpost. He lay horizontally on the bed placing his head on Joan's lap and closed his eyes, his lips still sucking around the pacifier. He seemed content and breathed in deeply to then expel the air from his lungs through his nose, his eyes closing as he felt her hand on his hair, fondling and petting. Sherlock's long arm was extended and his large fingers were brushing against Joan's shin, his fingertips running up and down the skin.

She smiled, reaching towards the bedside table to grab the bottle. When Sherlock heard the milk being shaken he opened his eyes and took the pacifier out his mouth, accepting the nipple willingly and starting to drink. He looked at his caregiver, his eyes open and fixed on hers, and it felt as though he was capable of seeing every nook and cranny of her heart. She felt chills down her spine, she had never been so open and vulnerable with anyone as she was with Sherlock. And yet, she felt no anxiety or fear at being emotionally naked before him. She, who demanded Sherlock to confide in her but played it close to her vest when it came to her own feelings, felt no fear with him. He was her little boy and life partner, and whether he was big or little there was no other place she wanted to be. And with nobody else.

She knew their future would not be easy and she was aware that their life was hectic, exhilarating and, many times, dangerous. But as she looked at Sherlock, as she got lost in his green eyes and felt him ripping his soul apart and laying it bare at her feet, just as hers, she knew all would be well in the end.