Another super-short chapter

just filler for the train ride

hope you enjoy! 3

December 22

The train rattled underneath Sherlock's feet as he flipped through some old case files he had saved to his phone, leaning against the seat and watching the world fly by backwards. Train rides were tedious and time-consuming, but he always had his mind to occupy him. And, now, Joan. He still had not gotten used to the way everything about her fascinated him, even simple things, like the way she was now. She was obviously trying to think about the case, but he could tell that she was getting sleepy from the way that her fingers had let the pages of the book she was holding drop and the limp position of her feet. He chose not to comment on this, instead letting his eyes drop back down to the files on his phone.

The other passengers on the train were mostly quiet. One girl was listening to a popular Top-40-Hits song on her headphones- Sherlock could tell by the rhythm of the short bobs of her head- and a middle-aged man was puzzling over a crossword. Sherlock listened to the hint that the man was muttering to himself over and over again and had solved it in less than a minute. The woman with the baby across from them was lesbian and had adopted the child, despite the colors of their hair being almost exactly the same. The girl and boy with matching engagement rings were obviously in a long-term relationship, but the boy was cheating on his girlfriend with someone who-ouch-must be quite the passionate lover.

He glanced at Joan again, his mind running through all the familiar deductions- former doctor friend of Asian descent friend friend Watson help reliable friend Joan Watson friend beautiful friend friend friend- and then absorbed the new information. Sleepy-probably from last night- in a good mood? That's a good thing, right? Curious, puzzled, brow slightly furrowed. Most likely thinking about the case. That was good too. Just as long as she didn't figure it out. Figure him out. She had already solved the puzzle of him in so many ways, but perhaps he still had the power to surprise her.

The old man fast asleep near the door was traveling to stay with relatives, most likely a nephew or niece, since he had never been married or had children, and he owned a tuxedo cat- or rather, had owned, since he was moving in with his relatives, in a small apartment that Sherlock would be willing to bet did not allow pets.

He looked back at Joan and noticed her eyes slowly closing, her face sweet in repose. Her half-shut eyelids fluttered at him a few times.

"What are you staring at…" she mumbled. "Have I got something on my face?"

Sherlock restrained a laugh.

"No, you just look…" Adorable when you're sleepy. "...fine," he finished, studiously casual. Her eyes blinked in confusion, but she was quickly dozing off, and she didn't appear to give his words much thought.

"Don't-stare-Sherlock-it's-rude," she muttered, seemingly already lost in some dream or other.

The teenage girl sitting across the aisle from the old man was a Tumblr addict and probably had more than ten tattoos on her body, despite the fact that only the edge of one was visible with the clothing she was wearing. She didn't appear to be particularly wealthy, so a close friend in her life who was a tattoo artist, and- actually, the tattoo artist was a boyfriend, because she had kissed him before getting on the train, her lipstick was smudged slightly.

Joan's head dropped forward slightly and Sherlock felt a small nudge against his shoulder as her head dropped down lightly to rest against him. He automatically tensed up, on the alert, acutely aware that nothing like this had ever happened before. Joan and he had a very rigid set of unspoken rules, and no spontaneous affectionate actions was definitely one of them. If she hadn't been fast asleep, no doubt she would be horrified.

The two college-age girls sitting a row in front of the tattoo-artist-boyfriend-girl looked to be just friends, but were actually in a romantic relationship, because they wore the exact same shade of lipstick and the same brand of exceedingly pungent perfume. They were obviously trying to hide their sexuality, and, Sherlock supposed, doing quite well for a pair of young people in love. Also, the shorter one was bisexual while the tall, skinny one was lesbian.

The slight pressure of Joan's head against his side was relaxing, and he could feel her soft breathing through their coats. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly and she murmured something incoherent in her sleep, turning towards him and nuzzling her nose into his sleeve a little bit. One part of Sherlock's mind was busily calculating what exactly these tiny, unconscious movements could mean, but the larger part was simply struck dumb by her beauty and the sparks of hot emotion flickering in his chest, spurred on by her touch.

The man and woman sitting near the Top-40s girl were both Christian, but one was Catholic and one was Baptist, and- Watson hmmm new perfume?- they met at work most likely because they work for the same company- warm yes okay shh- and they own a- Watson - a dog? cat? - Watson- Joan- dog, maybe, a dog- Joan!- and-

He couldn't do it. He couldn't concentrate on anything except how close together they were, and how warm inside he felt, and how he found himself leaning into her side too, ever-so-slightly, and closing his eyes and blocking out the rest of the world because she was just so much better than the rest of the world.