Hello My Darlings!

I know it's not Friday and I hope you can forgive me being late *Sheepish Grinning*

Who else was emotionally slaughtered by last weeks ep? It about killed me...

Anyway, on with the insanity that is this story!

Always love reviews/comments 3

-Emotional Distractions-

Sherlock is debating whether or not to run, his face as white as clotted cream. This is exactly - okay maybe not this exactly - is why he did not socialize with other people. Kitty slipped under his defenses after a spectacularly failed attempt to pick his pocket and he decided to teach her how to do it properly.

He has no idea how Joan fits into it all. He did not work cases with people. He did not notice the curve of painted lips. Perhaps he has ingested a toxin of some kind? These kinds of emotional distractions did not happen to Sherlock. Good lord, her cannot find her attractive can he? Sure he knows Watson is beautiful scientifically, one cannot argue with the golden ratio…

Joan's mouth falls open at his words, dark eyes blinking in obvious confusion and surprise. She is clearly wondering if she miss heard him.

Kitty, on the other hand, stares at him like he has lost his sanity. "What?"

"It would be the most logical solution." He huffs defensively, because it is true. It will successfully solve all their problems, though it would also be distinctly unfair to Watson. What if she wants a real husband not a spare room? From what she has said so far, she has only indicated animosity to arranged marriage. Could he have already effectively ruined her chances at anything else?

This caring thing is overwhelming.

Joan regains her composure, still watching him seriously as though trying to read his mind. "I doubt there is any need for such drastic solutions quiet yet." She says slowly, but her cheeks have turned pink.

Sherlock desperately needs to change the subject to something less volatile. He snatches up the file, still laying open in front of him on the table, from before the whole gossip column debacle. And he holds it up like a shield between him and the women.

"I was going over the financials for King's Shipping, which the Captain sent over, and I have already spotted certain discrepancies. Clearly Hubert King was indeed scheming off the top of his own company."

Joan arrives home knowing full well there is disaster brewing behind the quaint shuttered windows and flowerboxes. There is no way her mother missed this evening's paper and therefore no way she is not going completely around the bend over it. Standing out on the gas lit sidewalk, Joan steels herself for what is to come.

She is still reeling from Sherlock's pseudo proposal - honestly that was the last thing she expected him to say! And she does not know precisely how to feel about it either. Imagine being married to a man like Sherlock? Not even married really, simply living in the same house with a legal contract.

Once she is over the initial shock of such an offer from a man she hardly knows, Joan has to admit it is probably one of the better offers she will ever get. She is both too wealthy and too foreign to marry for anything other than station. Not that Joan has not wished she could find happiness and perhaps even children someday. At least with Sherlock Joan knew he would not so much as look at her in any way she did not absolutely consent to.

It is sad but what more can she really ask for?

Shaking off circular thoughts, Joan marches up the front steps to meet her doom.

"This is a disaster." Her mother says for the umpteenth time that night. She has been going nonstop for the better part of the last hour, seemingly without the need for breath or anyone else's input.

John Watson sits silently beside his daughter through it all sipping on a cup of tea which smells strongly of spirits. Joan is now wishing she thought to do that before the tirade started.

"It is the paper's fault not mine or Mr. Holmes'" She cuts in finally, voice sharp and exasperated.

Her mother deflates a bit at that, wilting like a soufflé. "I know you would never do anything, Joanie. But innocence has nothing to do with this."

Joan makes a noise at the back of her throat. "This whole thing is ridiculous. I don't care what people say. Let them talk. I am going to live my life my way, not shut up in a cupboard."

Her mother's voice lowers to a whisper, which is far more dangerous than shouting. "You will do no such thing. You will not besmirch your father's good name by continuing on in this manner. I am sorry, but I cannot allow it."

She leaps to her feet, her normally calm demeanor completely shattered in outrage. Anger curls her hands into fists and her lips press into a thin line. "Bloody hell! I should have just taken his fool headed proposal!"

"What?" Both her parents yell after her as Joan storms out of the parlor and towards her rooms.

Sherlock hopes Detective Bell will have information on their bald friend when he sees him tomorrow morning - or this morning, he has lost track of the time. He sent word to Gregson on what they had turned up earlier in Limehouse, so odds were there would be some new news. Then he could start digging into who lent Mr. King such a substantial sum.

He has a rather good inkling as to why the money changed hands - though he needs more data to confirm his hypothesis - Sherlock simply does not know who. And he hates not knowing things.

The sound of light footsteps makes him look up to see Kitty leaning against the doorway of the front parlor. With her candle and cream night robe she is transformed into an apparition from one of Poe's novellas. He does not believe in ghosts but the girl often makes him see them.

"Do you truly want to marry her?" She asks seriously, watching his face carefully for reaction in the dim electric light of the room.

Sherlock fidgets. "I have only known her a few days…"

She is not letting him hedge around the subject. "That's irrelevant to you, you know a person's life story in minutes. And you wouldn't make an offer like that for anyone, so you must care about her."

"Don't use the methods I taught you back on me at three in the morning." He grumbles glancing at the wall clock, though mostly he is irritated because her reasoning is sound.

Kitty waits.

Sherlock screws up his features and gets up to start pacing the room. "Perhaps I might have developed an attachment and perhaps I might like the idea of having Watson around to work, so I suggested the completely logical solution to the issue at hand." Talking about this kind of thing is physically draining.

To his surprise Kitty smiles. "Okay good. Don't worry Sherlock you will win her over." With that she turns and heads back up to her sometimes bedroom in the attic.

Sherlock watches her go wondering if this is all some sort of bizarre dream he is having.