A/N: I know you're all gonna kill me after this, but this is the final chapter. I will, however, continue writing more but only one shots and the next one (about episode 2) is the continuation of this. So please wait for it if you're interested, okay?

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I love you all

Fran

Joan closed the door hard behind her, dropping her bag and coat as she stepped in the safety of her home. Emily peeked from the kitchen, frowning as she saw her roommate and friend dragging her feet towards the couch. She frowned, it was way too early for her to be home so she immediately sensed something had gone terribly wrong with her new client.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she noticed the redness of her friends eyes and the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks.

"What happened?"

Joan pondered for a minute. How could she explain to her friend, with few details, what had happened to her and how foolish she felt? There were no words, no clear explanation as to why she had fallen for that man so easily even though she barely knew him, to her and to many, Sherlock Holmes was just a client. To her, on the other hand, he was the man she had come to love briefly the night before and who was now becoming a pain in her heart.

So she summarized everything as much as she could. The reaction she got from Emily was the one she had predicted; pure shock.

"So, let me get this straight. Steve is Sherlock Holmes?" Emily asked her, Joan merely nodded slowly. "How? I mean why? Why would he lie?"

"I don't know." Joan responded. "And quite frankly I don't care."

"What do you mean, you don't care? What about your job?"

"Well, I don't know. I can get another client, I can…I don't know, do something else." She sighed, holding her head between her hands. She bit her lip, because she knew talking about Sherlock or Steve or whatever his name was, would only bring sadness and anger to her mind. Also it would mean she was going to start crying in any minute.

"Joan, this is your job." Emily told her, taking a sit next to her on the couch. "You can't just walk away like that."

"And what am I supposed to do, huh?" Joan asked her, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. "Just go to him and pretend I don't feel the way I feel?"

"How do you feel?"

Emily was so blunt with her question, it took Joan by surprise. At first she hadn't considered feeling anything, they barely even knew each other and feeling something for a stranger was virtually impossible, but if she denied her feelings for him she would not only be lying to her friend but also to herself. She knew there was a connection, she couldn't ignore it before she wasn't going to ignore it now. Sherlock was special, lies or no lies, the brief moment they met he had created something between them she knew she couldn't easily forget.

"I like him." Joan responded, truthfully. "I like him and I know it doesn't make sense because we only saw each other once, but I do, and to be honest I don't think I'll be able to let this go. At least not now."

"So you really think quitting will make things easier?" Emily asked her. "Leaving without asking him why he did what he did, will not let you rest easier."

Emily was right (like many times before) though Joan was pretty certain of all decisions she made about her life, like becoming a sober companion, but sometimes an advice from her best friend was indeed very handy.

So she came to terms with her mind, and her heart.

Another one of Emily's advices Joan immediately took was to not wait for a day, or two or three. She'd told her it would be better if she did things at once, otherwise her mind would eat her alive.
Joan sighed heavily as she stood outside the brownstone. Rethinking over and over the words she had planned to say to him, hesitating for a brief second whether to knock or not. The door suddenly opened and whatever doubt she had vanished upon seeing his surprised face.

"Joan." he spoke, the mention of her name sent shivers down her spine.

"Can I come in? I think we need to talk." she told him. He stepped aside to let her in, closing the door when she walked inside. He leaded her into the parlor, his hand behind her back pushing her softly. Again a shiver ran through her body, feeling the heat of his palm through the layers of clothing.

She stayed frozen in the middle of the room. Joan was unable to speak as he wandered around, picking up clothes as he walked, rearranging the cushions and chairs, taking plates and cups from the small living room table. She noticed he may have not cleaned in days, the room was dark, curtains closed allowed the minimum of light and she wondered how could he possibly be living like this.

He left the room for a few minutes, and Joan took the opportunity to take a deep breath and calm the rapid beating of her heart.

"I've been thinking," she spoke suddenly. Sherlock pulled a chair for her to sit and he sat in front of her on the couch. Their knees were barely touching, she noticed how he had moved her chair gradually closer to him before she could sit. He had done it so they could be closer. She could have moved, but there was a need to feel him closer she couldn't disregard. "About this…about me being your sober companion, and…I'm not quitting."

"You're staying."

"I'm not doing this for you." she spoke quickly. "I'm not staying her for me either. I'm staying because this is my job, because your father asked me. I'm not staying for you."

He shifted on the couch, laying back, putting a small distance between them. She knew she was being harsh, but to her it was the only way for her to do this job, putting some distance between them, otherwise her job could not be done.

"And I would like for us to put this aside." she continued. "Everything that happened between us. How we met, the day we met and…what happened afterwards"

"You mean the kiss." he interrupted her. She blushed despite herself, looking down at her hands resting on her lap. There was no need for her to look at him to know he was smirking proudly, his mission of making her feel embarrassed a success.

"I mean everything, Sherlock." she murmured, lifting her head to look at him. "I'm a professional. I'm good at what I do, I can't jeopardize my work because of this…"

"So we're going to pretend we never met? We never went out? We never walked around the streets of New York, holding hands and that I never kissed you?"

"And also that you never lied and pretended to be someone that you're not." she finished for him. He sat quiet on his seat, sighing heavily as she spoke.

"I already said I was sorry."

"Yet it doesn't change the fact that you lied." she told him. "And I believed you. I guess its my fault to. I trust people too quickly."

"Look…" he moved closer, their knees touching again, her hands firmly in his warm ones. She could have pulled away, just like she could have stayed at home and look for an excuse not to work with him, but her heart didn't let her. Not before, not now. "I know I made a mistake, I know I should have told you who I was, but for that moment, for that night I just wanted to be someone else. Not for you, not because I wanted to 'get into your pants', but because I wanted to forget about me. About everything I was. I never thought I would meet anyone, I didn't mean to. But then I met you and…I lost myself. I know it's not an excuse, and you have every right to be angry or even despise me, but I just wanted to say I'm truly sorry."

"Fine…" she breathed. "But I already told you we're gonna put all this behind us. We have to…"

"If that's what you want."

"It's what I need." she told him. "It's what we both need if we want to make this work."
He nodded and they stared at each other for a few minutes before she stood up and walked away from him slowly. Sherlock imitated her movements, following her as she made her way towards the door.

"I'm going to get my things." she told him, standing by the door. "I will only be with you for six weeks, as your father must have informed you by email, and will help you in your recovering process."

He watched her in silence as she spoke, Joan couldn't help but feel something building slowly deep within her as his eyes pierced her very soul. She feared if she didn't move quickly, all the promises she'd made about forgetting would be broken.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours." she spoke, opening the door quickly and walking out of the brownstone.

Sherlock stood inside, resting his head against the closed door as Joan left. His own heart racing uncontrollably inside his chest.

The end.

You're all free to kill me now.