Sherlock sat at the computer table and reviewed the progress notes on his experiment on plant growth variations with regard to chemical concentrations in New York City soil. As he evaluated the data, his mind wandered ever so slightly towards Watson, remembering their conversation in the park of few days ago. As if on cue, he caught sight of her beautifully bare legs descending the staircase. He swallowed hard and quickly buried his head in his papers.

"Sherlock?" she tried to get his attention. She knew he had seen her come down the stairs but she'd play along if this is what he wanted.

"Mmmm?" he distractedly answered, knowing he was fooling no one. Her deductive skills were almost as good as his.

"It's such a nice afternoon, I'm going to take my book and go read in the park." Her tone tried to be casual but the latent invite to Sherlock was more than evident.

He looked up quickly to assess her face. The spark in her eyes set off an uncontrolled response on his own face, eyebrows slightly raised, bottom lip tucked in, eyes darting away from hers and then back.

"Sounds good," his tone matter of fact. "I'm waiting for someone from the precinct to pick up the Goldberg files. They should be here momentarily." His eyes studied her making sure she understood he very much wanted to spend the afternoon with her, as soon as duty was discharged.

Watson nodded at him, purposefully picking up the blanket from the back of the sofa, tucking it under her arm, and giving him a quick glance over her shoulder as she exited the room.

She left Sherlock fidgeting in his chair and checking his watch. He'd give them five more minutes to come get the file.

45 minutes later:

The weakening sunlight shone through the young leaves of the old tree making spotted patterns onto her book and blanket. It was late afternoon and the mild warmth of the spring day was beginning to fade. Joan was beginning to regret wearing shorts as she lay on her stomach under their tree reading, or more accurately, trying to read, and checking her phone. Perhaps he hadn't really understood her invitation.

Out of nowhere, he plunked down beside her, flat on his back, and just started talking. "Bell showed up himself for the files. I could not get rid of the man. I told him you were gone for the evening in case he was lingering hoping to see you. I do think he has a little thing for you but no that did not dissuade him. Perhaps he has a little thing for me. I doubt it since I got the man shot..."

Joan just watched him. He was babbling. Sherlock was as nervous as she was about this. He really could be quite adorable. She watched his mouth form words not really caring what he was saying. Joan moved her head over so it hovered over his.

Sherlock's mouth kept forming words but now he had no idea what he was saying. Joan slowly brought her lips down on his and caressed them gently with hers, pulling away just slightly, dragging his lower lip up with hers. He stopped talking. His eyes were closed and he was barely breathing. Sherlock's hand came up and tangled itself in her hair as he brought her back down to him to continue the kiss. Soft and tentative at first, slowly building into a small release of the passion each had held in so long. They broke away for breath, opening their eyes and looking at each other, a smile spread across both their faces.

Joan moved her body so she lay on top of him, tucking her head in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and held on. She smiled into his neck.

His phone chimed a text's arrival. "We're ignoring that," he said into her hair tightening his grip.

Her phone chimed. His phone chimed again.

"We need to see what's going on," practical Joan resurfaced and she moved off of him towards her phone.

"I swear if that's Marcus, I am going to have to have words with him..."

"It's Gregson. Says its urgent." Out of his warm embrace, Watson shivered a little in the cold breeze.

Sherlock sat up and reached for his phone. Sighing. Work comes first. He had the same message from Gregson. "I suppose we must."

They stood and picked up the blanket in the dwindling light. He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders without a word and without a word she accepted it. He held her hand until they reached the sidewalk and then was content just to be able to walk by her side.

- - - -
A few days after...

The case turned out to be a tedious bore involving a few days worth of research and exhausting legwork for both of them. When they finally got home they went their separate ways to rest and recharge - Watson slept, Sherlock went off to the kitchen.

The next day Watson dragged herself into the kitchen, "Morning." He acknowledged her entrance with an enthusiastic nod and smile, continuing his task. She reached for the coffee and stared at Sherlock, unsure of what he was doing. In front of him sat a large pot out of which he was spooning a thick custard-like cream into a jar.

Joan took a sip from her heaven-sent coffee and moved closer to him. She had to ask, "What is that? What are you doing?"

He looked up with childlike joy on his face, "Clotted cream! Home made. I had a yen. I occasionally do miss home and its delicacies."

"Clotted cream hmmm ... I've heard of it. Never tried it." She took another sip of coffee and watched as he dropped spoonfuls into the glass jar. "I know it's supposed to be quite good."

"Quite good? Quite good? It is delicious. And you are in for a treat. This is fresh, home-made and the consistency is perfect." He dipped his index finger into the pot and offered her a big blob of the cream. Sherlock often extended a finger's worth of food to Joan - curry, pudding, honey, even a bit of Osage orange, but she always demurely declined. This morning, she moved forward, parted her lips, slowly took his finger into her mouth, and swirling her tongue she slowly sucked the sweet cream from his finger finally releasing the tip with a parting lick of her tongue.

Sherlock stood rooted to the spot, mouth dropped open, his breathing deep, staring in absolute wonder at his partner. He managed to put down his hand while she stared at him with an innocent smile.

He cleared his throat. The words came out a bit huskier than he intended, "I ... I uh ... think you may be getting an emergency call from Sean shortly."

Joan smiled over her coffee cup at him and said sweetly, "I look forward to it." She walked out of the kitchen leaving him standing with a lopsided grin on his face and an almost full jar of clotted cream.