A/N: Okay so this story is short, its only four chapters long because this was not planned at all. it was never my intention to write this, but somehow I still felt the need to write it to explain how they became a couple in my other stories. So yeah...this one is short.

thanks for reading and reviewing!

Fran

Joan met Emily two hours after she had left Steve. Her heart was racing, her cheeks flustered with past memories of their brief encounter. She wasn't like that at all, she didn't go around making out with men she barely knew, and neither did she feel attracted to them. But there was something about this one, something she couldn't deny pulled her towards him, something beyond her own reasoning; he was different, she could sense it.

She found Emily fast asleep on the couch, and even though she was eager to tell her about who she had met, she wasn't going to wake her up. So she went to sleep, her mind immediately drifting to a peaceful dream.

The sunlight peeked through the curtain, caressing her face with its warmth. She stretched on her bed, pulling the covers once she was satisfied she felt comfortable enough.

She heard noise outside her room, meaning Emily was already up and wandering around. The eagerness she felt the night before had returned, Joan was content to share her experience with her friend, mainly because she was certain she was as desperate to know as she imagined.

Joan stepped out of her room and greeted her friend with a warm smile.

"Good morning." Emily told her. "Slept well?'

"Yes, I did." Joan responded, not exactly telling her friend why but she sensed by the way she was smiling mischievously at her, she knew the reason.

"Care to tell me what you did last night?"

"Nothing."

"Really?" Emily asked her, not quite convinced with her answer.

"Well I met someone." Joan told her, smiling widely. She sat on the stool at the kitchen, Emily taking two cups and pouring coffee into them. She waited impatiently for Joan to speak.

"You know I want to know everything. Now spill it out."

"His name is Steve." Joan told her, still smiling, butterflies slowly creeping in her stomach at the thought of him. She felt like a teenager all over again. Part of her heart was amazed she felt like that for a man she didn't know. "He's British. He used to work as a consultant detective for Scotland Yard."

"He's a detective?" Emily asked her, surprised.

"No, I mean not one with a gun and badge anyways. He told me he helped them solving cases, but that's about it."

"And you believed him?"

"Why wouldn't I? Look, I know when someone is lying, I mean I can tell." Joan explained her. Still her friend looked not quite convinced. "Anyways, he's staying here for a while"

"Did you get his number?"

Joan froze, replaying last night's events she recalled not saying or asking anything. Neither did he. She was too shocked after the kiss to say something, and he probably was too surprised by her quick departure.

Now she felt stupid.

"No, I didn't." she murmured, holding her head between her hands, feeling as dumb as ever. "I'm an idiot."

"Well, I can't tell you that you aren't because that would be a lie."

"How could I not have asked for his number?" She complained. "What are the chances of me seeing him again? Slim to none. Even if I try looking for him, I don't even know his last name, there's no way in hell how would succeeded."

"You have the worst luck ever, I give you that much. I mean, you never meet anyone you can possibly be interested in, but when you finally do, you forget to ask for his number." Emily stated, clearly it did not make her feel any better. "Sorry sweetie"

"Yeah. I'm sorry too." she sighed. "Well I have to go, I'm meeting my new client today. Sherlock Holmes."

"What kind of name is Sherlock?" Emily asked her. Joan shrugged, remembering she had asked the same question to her friend at the rehab center, no one had an answer either.

"I have no idea, I'm about to find out, though." Joan told her, slowly getting up from her seat and walking towards the bathroom for a quick shower.

The cold wind of the city crashed against her cheeks and send a shiver down her spine. She walked among the sea of people with quick steps, most of them were early runners, when the rest were man and female wearing fancy suits and briefcases. It was the busiest day of the week; Monday. Most people were eagerly walking towards their place of work, like she did. Though it was highly unplanned, she had received a phone call from the clinic where her client was staying, letting her know he had runaway even when he was about to be released the same day. She had to make her shower shorter to find him.

She did, eventually, when she had managed to find his address she had noticed he had left to his house.

She walked in, the door cracked behind her but the old house was completely empty.

"Hello?" she yelled, peeking into the parlor receiving no response at all. She wandered around for a few second, until she decided to go to the second floor. The room filled with different voices, clearly from the TV or more than one.

When she walked into the room from where the voices were coming, she found five TVs on and a shirtless tattooed man standing in front of them. She couldn't see his face and clearly he hadn't noticed her walking in, or maybe he ignored her. Either way she stepped further in, the room filled with noise she for a moment lost track, but still she spoke to let herself known.

"Excuse me, Mr…"

The man slowly turned around and Joan's heart stopped beating when their eyes meet.

"Joan?" he whispered, momentarily frozen on his spot.

"Steve…" she spoke but suddenly everything hit her. She took two steps back, walking as far away from him as possible, angry and disappointed at herself for being so foolish. "Or should I call you Sherlock Holmes?"

He looked down at his hands, sighing as she said his name. He knew, right there when his eyes met hers once again, that he had made a big mistake, that his lie had been pointless and meaningless.

"I can explain, I really can." He took two steps towards her, but she stepped away.

"What is there to explain? That you lied to me about your name? Or that you probably go around making up stories to get into women's pants?" she snapped, tears suddenly running down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. The last thing she wanted was for him so see her weak, but she was heartbroken and disappointed. All thoughts about him being special immediately vanished.

"It's the first time I did it, believe it or not." Sherlock responded. "I couldn't just tell you I was out a rehab center, so I…lied."

"About everything…"

"No, I didn't lie about me. About who I am." he whispered."I'm sorry…"

"God, I can't believe this." she told him.

"I'm sorry."

She stared at him, at his eyes she had been so crazy about the previous night, suddenly her mind drifted to their kiss and how she'd dreamed about it, and how strangely right it felt. Now her heart broke because the man she had met last night was not the man she thought.

"I think I should leave." she told him, turning around towards the stairs quickly, not giving him time for him to respond.

Joan still heard him walking behind her as she walked the stairs, and before she could reach the doorknob he stopped her. His hands resting on top of hers. She felt a shiver running down her spine as it came in touch with her trembling hands.

"Don't go." he murmured. She swallowed hard, momentarily considering staying but quickly changing her mind. She was angry; she couldn't face him and pretend she wasn't. "Please…"

"You lied to me, right to my face and you didn't care what I was feeling or anything at all. I can't face you right now, I can't."

She spoke, her back still to him, before walking out. Closing the door behind her.

tbc