Chapter 7

Twice a week Joan met with Dr. Reed. The sessions helped her process her emotions, her fears, her anger about her abduction and the killings she witnessed. Understanding that the trauma would not just be immediately wiped away, Dr. Reed worked with Joan to find ways to cope and understand what was happening when the anxiety attacks struck. She also steered Joan into talk about the Holmes brothers even though it made Joan infinitely uncomfortable to do so. Dr. Reed waited her out and slowly Joan opened up about what had occurred with Mycroft.

Joan admitted she had repressed all her emotions for so long that when Mycroft came along she saw him as a safe option. He was someone who she, on a subconscious level, knew she could not and did not want a long term relationship with. She had used Mycroft as much as he had used her. Joan carefully tried to skirt around talking about Sherlock, but Dr. Reed would have none of that.

Dr. Reed asked her directly, "Do you have feelings for Sherlock? Is he the reason you chose Mycroft? Was that a way to separate yourself from Sherlock?"

"Of course I have feelings for him. He's my friend, at this point my closest friend. I value..."

Dr. Reed cut her off, "You're not answering my question, Joan. You know what I asked you and you are just stating the obvious. Do you have deeper feelings for Sherlock than just friendship?"

Joan stared at her, not really knowing how to answer. "I don't know. Our lives are so wrapped around each other, I don't know. That's partially the reason I wanted to move out... to sort all this .. sort out what I want. I've changed and I'm not sure what I feel ... He said to me before he left that he no longer knew what I was. Well, I don't either."

In their conversation Joan let slip that she was still spending most of her day at the brownstone and that she had been in recent communication with Sherlock, but she kept to herself the nature of those communications. Hanging around conspiracy theorist boards on the odd chance Sherlock would post something sounded pathetic enough, without admitting posting haikus at a bee forum for him to find.

"Joan, I can't tell you what to do, but I can strongly suggest that you need to take this opportunity and pull yourself out of this situation. Clear your head. Stop living in his space, stop going to the brownstone, stop the detective work if you can afford it for the next month or so. Go away, anywhere, if you can't afford France, go to Trenton. Just get yourself away from his circle of influence.

Joan objected, .."you're talking about him like he has some sort of Svengali hold over me. That isn't the case ... I am not some weak willed being without a mind of her own."

"That's not what I'm saying. You need time to choose for yourself, to establish once more a sense of who you are and consciously choose what you want. ... I think you also should consider stopping these communications..."

Once more Joan cut her off, "But he left under the impression I consider him a burden. I don't want him out there alone thinking no one cares about him, and that's what he'll think if I stop communicating."

"Yes, but he left you remember? You are still taking care of him. He seems utterly capable of taking care of himself, Joan. This is more about you than it is about him. You seem to need someone to take care of. Let's try to take care of you for a change. He is not trying to take care of you, is he?"

Joan looked away, pursing her lips, and slightly shaking her head, "Actually he is. He is responsible for me being here with you. If he hadn't reached out to you, I doubt that I would have. ... I also have a suspicion that I'm under a some sort of friendly surveillance ... But that could be a byproduct of spending too much time with Everyone."

Dr. Reed looked at her with a confused expression. Joan didn't want to elaborate. She was beginning to build a certain amount of resentment toward Dr. Reed, Emily, her family - they wanted her to be like they were, "normal," to live in their world of 9 to 5 and sunshine. She had tried hard all her life to fit that mold, had convinced herself that's what she wanted. But really that was just not who she was anymore and sometimes she thought she never really had been.

Joan eventually agreed to take Dr. Reed's advice. She knew she needed to clear her head. If at the end of her time away, she still felt the same about the work and Sherlock, then she would know it was her own decision and not coming from a form of dependency.

Ms. Hudson agreed to take care of Clyde while she was away and check in on the house. She told Gregson and Bell she would be abroad for a few weeks and although they weren't happy with the news, they understood. The difficult part of all this was going to be not communicating with Sherlock, not worrying about him, staying away from what had been her life for the past two years. Joan took money out of savings and booked herself a vacation out of the country.

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Sherlock stared at the poem Joan had written, mouthing each word, cherishing the perceived sentiment, the movement of the words - a haiku, five syllables, seven then five ... And bang it hit him - of course! The numbers he had been studying, trying to coax some sense from. It was not about the numbers themselves but the rhythm, the sequence.

"My god, even two thousand miles away you are still opening doors for me," he whispered at the screen. His enthusiastic jump off the bed was accompanied by the grateful squeaks of the rusty metal springs. Sherlock attacked the papers with new eyes and shortly got the information from the spreadsheets that he spent days trying to ascertain prior to receiving Joan's poem.

Tomorrow morning he'd meet his handler and see what the next step for him would be. He wished he could talk to Watson, thank her for the inspiration and much more so for her care, for letting him know he was not alone. But the circumstances right now, after deciphering the coded information, were dangerous for contact. Sherlock hoped she would understand.