***A/N: Hi everyone, I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I'm sorry about the briefness of this chapter, I just wanted something completely JoanLock to feature, devoid of many other distractions/themes. If there are any issues/improvements/concerns, please let me know, and I will do everything I can to fix them. I apologise if any of this seems out of character, and if it does, please do let me know. I am considering making this story slightly longer than I had originally intended, and I am wrestling with the idea of developing the romance further, before perhaps continuing with my own story-writing-tradition of Joan becoming pregnant. I have an idea of how this could work, and be different from the other stories I have written based solely on this theme, but if you think it would be unwise to do so, please let me know. I value your input, and consider it whilst writing. I know the theme itself may be boring you, as it features so heavily in my writing. So please, feel free to be blunt :)
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! HQ21
Sherlock and Joan spent the entire night together, wrapped in each other's arms, and completely entwined. Just as the final remnants of the fire were naturally extinguishing themselves, their interlocked bodies began to feel the coldness of the room, and the tiredness of their limbs. Joan's legs were still wrapped tightly around Sherlock, whose strong arms were beneath her, pulling her boy close to his own as they continued to make love. As the fire burned out and the room became completely dark, the only sounds which could be heard were the sounds of Sherlock's sighs, and Joan's ragged breathing. After a few more minutes together in the darkness, Sherlock felt Joan's legs fall from around his waist, and her body relaxed tiredly under his grasp. Sherlock's eyes snapped open, and he tried desperately to see her through the darkness. He released his hold on her slightly, easing her back slowly, so that she was lying completely flat upon the floor. He then removed his hands from beneath her, and ran his right hand up her side, before allowing it to rest of the side of her cheek, which he tenderly caressed. He felt her head tilt slightly towards him at this contact, and her eyes shone brightly through the darkness.
"Are you alright?" he whispered, running his fingers delicately down her cheek, before pausing nervously at the edge of her jaw. Just as he considered removing himself completely from her, he felt Joan shift slightly beneath him, and place her own hand over his own.
"Yes" she breathed, drawing his hand to her lips, and kissing it briefly, before exhaling shakily. "Are you?"
"Are you quite sure, Watson?" he returned, his hand weakening slightly beneath her grasp. She responded to this immediately, by pushing herself up from the ground, and kissing him with a fierce and passionate intensity which reassured him that she was fine. More than fine, actually. She then adjusted her legs slightly, drawing him closer to her, before running her hands gently up his biceps, and then pressing her thighs tightly against his sides, causing him to exhale shakily. Sherlock then closed his eyes, placed his left cheek beside her own, and nuzzled her for a few moments, covering her neck and cheek with kisses.
"I'm cold" she breathed, running her hand up his arm and allowing it to rest on his shoulder. As soon as she spoke, Sherlock stopped kissing her, and she could feel his body tense slightly as he pushed himself from the ground. "But I don't want you to move" she breathed huskily, drawing him back on top of her. "I don't want either of us to move."
"Watson" he spoke gently, running his finger tenderly down her cheek and towards her mouth. She turned her head to face him, just as his fingers reached her lips. He drew his index finger gently over her top lip, and drew it down her chin. "This evening is very cold. I do not wish you to be uncomfortable."
"I am far from uncomfortable" she breathed, drawing his finger back towards her mouth, before kissing it gently. "I don't want you to leave."
"I assure you, Watson" Sherlock began, running his hand down her side, before allowing it to rest upon her hip. "I will never leave."
The silence hung between them for a few seconds, but even through the darkness, Sherlock was aware that Joan was smiling. He leant towards her, entwining his right hand with her left, before kissing her passionately once more.
"I would only ever depart temporarily" he stated, as he removed his body from hers, and reached for something behind her, "and only to ensure your comfort" he continued, as he resumed his previous position. Joan placed her hands upon his biceps once more, and adjusted herself under him, as he drew a thick, woollen blanket across them both. Joan found herself surprised at how the combination of Sherlock's body and the blanket seemed to warm her almost instantly, and she found herself sighing gratefully and contently into Sherlock's ear, causing him to quiver. She felt his body relax onto hers, and she moved herself gently beneath him, before tilting her head to the left and kissing him chastely upon the cheek. Sherlock felt completely and utterly relaxed at this moment, and allowed himself to ease his body onto her own, and rest his head in the crook of her neck. After a few moments, he realised that his own bodyweight was greater than Joan's, and he became acutely aware of how much pressure his body was placing upon her own. She felt him tense beneath her at this moment, before pressing his hands to the floor by her sides, and pushing himself from her.
She mourned the loss of his body instantly, and felt the coldness from the air and her sadness seep through the sheet, and cause them both to shiver unpleasantly.
"Shh... Sherlock" she soothed, drawing her legs higher up his body and pulling him back to her.
"I'll hurt you" he muttered regrettably in response. "My mass is much greater than-"
"Your 'mass' has not been a problem from the past three hours" she mumbled seductively, drawing her face closer to his own. "And it is not a problem now, Sherlock. Not at all." She continued, pressing her legs tighter across his body.
"Watson" he mumbled, a faint yet notable hint of gentle reprimand present in his tone. "Watson-"
"Shh" she soothed, running her foot slowly up his leg, before placing her right arm up his side and resting her hand in the centre of his back. "It's okay" she stated in a gentle and placating manner, before hooking her right leg over his left, and pushing herself onto her side, causing Sherlock to turn over. He found himself lying beneath Joan, his back pressed to the cold ground. Joan was lying on top of him, one hand pressed to his chest, her right leg hooked over his. Even in the darkness, he knew she was smiling.
"Watson" he repeated, placing his hand nervously on her lower back.
"Rest" she whispered in response, kissing him tenderly upon the lips, as she slowly eased herself from his body, and lay on her right side, with her right leg hooked across his hips, her head resting by his shoulder, her hand upon his chest. "Rest" she mumbled tiredly, as she nuzzled into him, before finding herself so relaxed that she was able to succumb to her tiredness.
"And you, Watson" he whispered in return, tilting his head downwards and kissing her on her forehead. Unlike Joan, Sherlock did not fall asleep immediately. Instead, he spent a considerable amount of time watching her as she rested, and admiring with interest the way in which she seemed so utterly relaxed and completely content. As he watched her in the darkness, and felt the lightness of her breath upon his neck, he allowed himself one moment to consider whether he was the reason for her happiness. But only a moment. Seconds after this thought, Sherlock too allowed himself to sleep.
The sleeping lovers did not wake until several hours later, when the light was shining through the half-closed curtains, and shining upon their faces. At this time, Joan and Sherlock were in very much the same position as the night before, with Joan lying on her side, one leg propped over Sherlock's hips, a hand placed gently upon his chest, slightly above his heart. Sherlock was lying on his back still, with one arm beneath Joan, drawing her closer to him. The only difference was that, in the hours which had passed whilst the lovers slept, Sherlock and Joan had tilted their heads slightly, and were now lying beside each other, facing each other, the tips of their noses just centimetres away. The gentle chiming from the clock near Angus revealed that it was nine o'clock in the morning, and the gentle ticking of this clock roused Joan from her slumber.
She did not count the chimes, but she knew from the lightness of the room, and the sense of rest and vigour she was experiencing, that the morning had finally arrived, and that they needed to prepare for the day. Despite their eagerness to get away the previous day, and the activities of the night (and most of the early hours of the morning), she realised that the presence of herself and Sherlock would be required at the precinct, in order to give statements and evidence relating to the events of the day before. Her eyes opened slowly at this thought, and she found herself breathing deeper, and slightly raggedly against Sherlock's chest. She could feel her heart beat faster, and the hand which she had allowed to rest just above Sherlock's heart began to tremble. She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply, before slowly drawing her hand across his chest. Before she could remove it completely from his body, she felt the warmth and familiarity of Sherlock's own hand recapture hers, and it felt, for a moment, as though all the stress and tension had left her body. Joan allowed herself to bask in this moment, to enjoy it as much as she could, before forcing herself to wake Sherlock. This, however, was completely unnecessary. Her partner had been awake for the past thirty minutes, and had remained perfectly still and silent, enjoying the sensation of her body beside his own. He had only moved when he felt her body tense, and her hand tremble against his heart, causing him to react. He had a feeling that he knew what was troubling, and wished to reassure her. She did not need to feel afraid.
"Sherlock" Joan whispered, causing his eyes to open groggily. "Sherlock, it's morning" she added in a slightly lower and more familiar tone.
"Indeed it is" he mumbled tiredly, opening his eyes widely, and finding himself staring into her own. He turned slowly onto his side, before running his hand down from her shoulders to her hips, and clasping her hand tightly and reassuringly. "Your deductive powers grow by the day."
All of the concern and tiredness from Joan's features disappeared almost instantly, and her face broke into a wide, genuine smile. For a moment, Sherlock found a small smile playing on his lips, too. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, they simply remained where they were, bodies pressed together and hands secured, beneath the warmth and safety of the thick blanket, which had shielded them during the coldness of the night.
"Captain Gregson will be expecting us" Joan reasoned, as she leaned forward slightly, her nose brushing against Sherlock's own.
"I expect you are right" he responded breathlessly, "I have received two missed calls in the past hour, and you have three. Due to the time and inconvenience, I would imagine it was the Captain trying to get hold of us." Joan smiled tiredly at this, before lifting her eyes to meet his own, and leaning closer to him once more, her lips brushing his briefly as she spoke.
"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked her breath catching in her throat as she felt his hand running down her back, and resting just above her hips.
"I would not have dreamed of it, Watson" he responded, pulling her close to him, as they began to kiss. Joan removed her hand from his and placed it on his cheek, running her fingertips gently down his cheek as their kiss increased in both intensity and desire. A few seconds later, Joan broke the kiss, and drew her hand down his neck, until it rested upon the plastered wound on his chest.
"How's your chest?" she asked casually, running a finger across it.
"Perfectly alright, Watson" he responded, capturing her hand with his own once more. "If your work on my chest was able to survive the... events of the night" he began, drawing his hand once more up her side, until he felt her quiver beneath his touch, "then my chest can survive almost anything."
"Hmm" she hummed, breathing against his lips, as she felt herself leaning into him, her back arching slightly. Despite the fact that their current position and manner of talk was unusual, and unfamiliar to them both, it did not feel so. Instead, it felt perfectly natural, pleasant, and right. She did not have that awkward moment of wonder, confusion and regret when she opened her eyes that morning. Instead, as the light shone through the window and warmed her cool cheeks, she found herself basking in Sherlock's presence, not regretting it. She found herself completely relaxed, calm and clear-headed when considering their current position, as well as the activities of the night before. She had spent some time going over the events in question in her mind, and was satisfied that both she and Sherlock were physically and emotionally ready to deal with them, as well as their implications, whatever they may be. But right now, neither of them could afford that distraction. They needed to finish what they started. So to speak. "We have to get dressed" she reasoned, pressing one hand against his chest, and leaning back slightly.
"Do we?" Sherlock asked seductively, before attempting to draw her back into his arms. She would have liked nothing more than to allow him to capture her, to hold her, to love her. But they needed to see the case through to the end, and ensure that everything was settled, before they could totally relax. She just hoped that Sherlock would see reason sooner rather than later. "I must admit, I am rather content with our current attire".
"Or absence of" she stated, her voice light with humour. Sherlock sighed contently in response, running one hand up her back as she spoke. "I don't want to leave either" she stated simply, tilting her head so that their eyes met. "But we have to, okay? And it won't be for long."
"And how can you be so sure?" He asked simply, leaning towards her as he spoke, and planting a kiss upon her lips.
"Because" she breathed beneath his kiss, causing him to move back instantly. "Because we have plans for tonight".
"Do we?"
"Mm-hm." She responded, parting her lips slightly as they continued to kiss.
"And would you care to share these plans with me?" he asked, as he kissing the corner of her mouth.
"I would" she stated simply, tilting her head back slightly, as Sherlock began to trail kissed down her cheek and neck. "Right after we have seen Captain Gregson." At this moment, Sherlock wrapped one arm across Joan's side, and flipped her onto her back, before hovering slightly above her. He watched as her pupils dilated, and she adjusted herself beneath him, as her heart raced and her breathing increased rapidly.
"And what could Captain Gregson give us" Sherlock began, lowering himself slightly onto Joan, "that we cannot obtain by remaining right here" he continued, resting his head near hers, as he kissed her gently upon the cheek, and continued down her body.
"Closure" she whispered, her wide eyes staring up at the ceiling. As soon as she uttered the word, Sherlock stopped kissing her, and tilted his head slightly so that he was facing her. He then pushed himself up slightly, so that his face was a few inches away from her own, and watched her for a few moments before speaking. He knew that this case had been particularly difficult for her, both physically and emotionally. He also realised that it was important that she felt it was over, with all loose ends tied tightly together. It would not be until this moment that she would be able to achieve a greater sense of happiness and contentment. And, despite his initial jesting and teasing, he would not allow their own physical desires to override Watson's happiness. Not ever.
"I understand" he stated gently. And by his manner, his tone, and the look in his eyes, Joan knew that he did. At that moment, Sherlock leaned towards her once more, planting a chaste kiss lightly upon her forehead. She shivered at the contact, running her hand up his arm and gripping his taut muscles, before releasing him. Sherlock slowly eased himself from Joan, reaching for and pulling on his discarded trousers, before drawing the blanket over her, and rising to his feet. "I will call the Captain now, and then proceed to get dressed" he stated simply, as he stood before her, tall and shirtless, his eyes watching her with care and consideration. He reached for their phones, which were beside each other upon the small table, and passed her her own. "Please take your time, alright? There is no immediate rush" he stated kindly, as she accepted her phone from him. "I am quite certain that Captain Gregson is currently immersed in chastising some inept young officer whose IQ is lower than Clyde's."
"Clyde is very intelligent, you know" Joan returned, clutching her phone tightly in her hand, before scrolling through her missed calls logs and confirming that the three missed calls she had received were from Gregson. "As are the police officers" she added, flashing him a warning glance.
"I am sure that some of them are..." Sherlock paused for a moment, as he stared down at his own phone, scrolling through his contacts list before selecting Gregson's number, "... almost adequate." He smiled sardonically, partly at his witty response, but more so at the look of warning which was passing across Joan's face. Before Joan could respond, Sherlock had placed the phone to his ear, and was eagerly awaiting a response. After just two rings, Gregson answered the phone, and Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Captain Gregson, good morning" he stated brightly, before turning his head towards Joan. "We were just talking about you." Joan narrowed her eyes and shook her head, before smiling slightly, and drawing the blanket closer to her chest. Fearing that she was feeling exposed, Sherlock turned promptly on the spot, and began to walk from the room. "I apologise, Captain, the fault was mine" Sherlock stated, his voice trailing off as he walked from the room and towards the staircase. "Miss Watson and I were engaged in" Joan's eyes shot up at that moment, and found herself staring at the empty doorway as Sherlock's light footsteps up the creaking staircase could be heard, "discourse in relation to another matter. But we will both be available to you presently."
Joan closed her eyes and suppressed a laugh, as she tugged the warm and comforting material closer to her. She pushed herself up from the ground, wrapped the blanket across her chest and back, and stood up. She felt slightly tired and cold, and longed for further physical contact with Sherlock. She stood on the spot for a few moments, gazing at the empty doorway in front of her, and listening out for his ramblings or musings. She heard none. Instead, as she slowly walked through the room and towards the staircase, another pleasant sound filled the air, which conjured up memories of one of the previous nights they shared together. As Joan took a few steps into the foyer, and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to become completely lost in the glorious sound which was radiating through the building and her mind. From his room upstairs, where not even she had yet entered, Sherlock Holmes was playing the violin.