Reality of Realities
By: phaedraphelan
Word count 5177
Chapter 2
Summary: Sherlock, Joan . . . what next for these two? And in the process, what are they learning about each other and their true feelings?
Disclaimer: This "Elementary" story is not-for-profit and is purely for entertainment purposes. The author and this site do not own the characters and are in no way affiliated with "Elementary," the actors, their agents, the producers, the CBS Television Network or any station or network carrying the show in syndication, or anyone in the industry.
After Sherlock and Joan came to terms with their feelings about each other, it was as if their partnership had finally reached its complete fulfillment. Each day they went to the precinct to work on cases with Tommy Gregson and Marcus Bell, trying to act as if nothing had changed between them. Sherlock went to meetings with Alfredo as usual, trying to keep his mind on the matter of maintaining sobriety when all he could think about was Joan. No one noticed the change in their relationship at first. Gregson and Bell were used to the closeness between Sherlock and Joan and did not notice anything except that Sherlock and Joan were in incredible sync with one another and that was good for solving cases.
It was Alfredo who first confronted Sherlock about what was going on. He had been with Sherlock to a meeting and he noticed that Sherlock seemed unusually distracted and tense. When he glanced at his face, he saw that Sherlock's mind was far away and the look was the look of a man who knew he was going to get laid.
"Sherlock, are you all right, man?"
"Yes . . . yes, I just need to get home. There's something I need to attend to."
Alfredo smiled and shook his head.
"Man, it's you and Joan! You goin' home to get you some."
"Some?"
"Some of Joan. That's why you two been so cozy lately. She takin' care of you, Sherlock. Don't lie to me, man. I know what that look means. You hungry for Joan, man. Ain't no shame in that!" Alfredo laughed out loud. "You and Joan . . . that's great! You two finally figured that one out, huh?"
"It's most satisfying. We haven't been together for the last few days . . . due to circumstances. She was under the weather a bit. And the anticipation of being with her this evening is quite distracting."
"Well, don't hang around here. You take yourself home to your woman. Treat her good, Sherlock. Don't mess it up."
"I can't think about anything else except those times we have together now. Our partnership is complete. I . . . I just think that for the first time in my life, I am with the woman that I will spend the rest of my life with."
"Well, you go for it. Keep me posted," Alfredo said, slapping him on his shoulder as they parted for the evening.
Sherlock hurried home. He really needed Joan. He couldn't think about her without the anticipation of being intimate with her causing his heartbeat to surge out of his control. He stopped for take-out food on the way home and got there to find Joan sitting at her desk going over the material from the latest case.
"Hello, Watson," he said as he came into the house. "I brought food along."
"Oh, great, Sherlock, I am so hungry."
Joan took the food from his hand and began to put out the utensils for eating and put water on for tea.
"Joan . . . Joan," Sherlock was unable to say the words he wanted to speak. He still had trouble expressing his feelings outside of sexual situations.
Joan immediately sensed his need for emotional support and his need to communicate with her.
"Are you all right, Sherlock?"
"Yes . . . I guess I'm just a bit rattled. Joan, can we just eat now? And would it be possible to go to bed early for a change?"
Joan observed the flush on his face and the languor in his blue eyes and suddenly she knew. She reached for his hands and he took hold of both of them in his and kissed them.
"Joan, I find myself quite in need of you this evening. Please, please let me . . . tell you. Oh, God, Joan, I'm in such a state here."
Sherlock's hands were trembling.
"Is everything all right, Sherlock. What happened?"
"I ran into your friend, Jennifer Sayles, today on Madison Avenue. I guess that you would call it some kind of test. You know me, Joan. We haven't had coitus in nearly a week since you had your menses. And I have missed it so. I need . . . a lot. She came right at me, wanted to go to a hotel."
"And you did what with Jenn?" Joan was holding her breath, her heart throbbing anxiously in her chest.
"I told her that I had to apologize for my previous conduct, but that you, Joan, and I are in a committed relationship which precluded ever repeating our previous acts."
"And what was her reaction?"
"I guess you might say that she was gobsmacked. She apologized as well, backed away and was gone."
Joan smiled tenderly at Sherlock and reached to take him in her arms. Sherlock shuddered and hugged Joan for dear life.
"I love you so much, Joan."
"I know that you do. I know you love me." Joan paused for a long moment, putting both her hands on Sherlock's cheeks. "I think that we should take our food upstairs and eat there. I will take care of you. Come along . . . bring the food. I'll take the chopsticks and the plates."
Sherlock followed Joan upstairs to her bedroom and watched her calmly set the containers of Pad Thai and spring rolls on her dresser along with the eating utensils.
Then she turned to Sherlock and undressed him. She loved him when he was like this and wanted to help him. He was like a little boy in a man's body, his hands shaking, hardly able undress himself, and her only desire was to comfort him. Actually, in spite of her calm demeanor, she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her. When Sherlock was undressed, she began to remove her own clothes, but Sherlock helped her, kissing her on her neck and shoulders as he removed her blouse and then her slacks and tossed them on the floor. Then he pulled her long hair from its pony tail in a moment of sexual frenzy. Sherlock was flushed and trembling with the full power of his arousal upon him.
"I think we waited too long today to do this, Joanie. I am in such need of you that I can't think about anything else."
Sherlock caught Joan up to him and his kisses were so passionate that Joan could hardly catch her breath as they came together almost without foreplay in the connection that they now knew so well.
"Dear Sherlock . . . dear Sherlock," Joan murmured softly as they gradually came down from the climax into the mellow sensations of the afterglow, their tongues completely loosened to speak of the feelings they had for each other, the need that was altogether satisfied when they came together this way.
Afterward they lay in bed, eating the food that Sherlock had brought in, sharing their food, sometimes feeding each other, even licking each others fingers as they ate the spring rolls lying naked facing each other, enjoying the intimacy of this special private moment.
"There's only one thing missing, luv," Sherlock said as he set aside the food containers from their bed.
"What might that be?" Joan smiled as if she already knew the answer.
"More . . . more," Sherlock said and came after her again playfully.
Joan sensed his need to play and resisted his advances, pretending to not know what he wanted, but then he got onto her and she let him hold her wrists above her head in mock restraint.
"Is this what you want, Joan? Will you let me restrain you as I kiss you?"
"Oh, yes, Sherlock! Yes!"
Then she simply melted in that way that was uniquely Joan and gave her body to him, clutching him to her as they joined again. Finally they turned off the lights and fell asleep, wrapped in each others arms, calmed and satisfied physically as well as emotionally.
Sherlock and Joan slept wound around each other now. Even when Sherlock would stay up nearly all night, he would eventually find his way to their bed and lie down with Joan, pressing the entire length of his body to hers, inhaling the scent of her, his hands wandering over her body, hoping that she would waken and attend to him in the way that he was becoming so accustomed to. He wanted her hands on his body, caressing and rubbing him the way that she did. Often he did the same and they would soon find themselves in the throes of rapture together till they both were out of their heads and so satisfied, so sated that they slept for hours afterward in each others arms.
Sherlock's emotional walls were broken down now and he was very needy and admitted to being such. He loved the physical closeness with Joan, cuddling with her, kissing her whenever she was near enough to him, patting and pinching her bottom whenever he had the chance, even sometimes slapping her backside in that typical proprietary manner of a man with the woman he loves.
And Joan thrived in the relationship, enjoying working with him on a daily basis, but then finding the sexual satisfaction that she would have never thought possible, because Sherlock was so sensitive to her needs, so aware of her feelings. She finally had found the man who would satisfy her own sexual appetite. They were so attuned sexually that it only took a look, a word, a gesture from one to the other to signal that it was the time to take care of that priority in their life together.
Sherlock was very interested in teaching Joan to enjoy every aspect of sexual connection and he assigned her material to read that would widen her sensual horizons. Joan was an attentive student. Joan knew about the existence of the principles of Tantric sex but she was glad to learn in depth from Sherlock how to extend their sexual pleasure through that practice. She recognized that Sherlock needed to be attended to constantly in this area of his life and she was determined to accomplish that. Sherlock quickly realized that Joan's sexual appetite far exceeded that of Irene or any other woman he had ever been with.
For the first time since his infatuation with Irene, Sherlock was harnessing his powerful libido, focusing entirely on Joan, learning to tactfully reject the frequent overtures that came his way from the women that seemed to constantly come after him. The two of them came as never before to appreciate that the ultimate sex connection was not just a physical one, but involved all of the emotions and never forgot this as they came together. As a result they became only closer and closer as their intimacy continued to intensify.
They tried to keep their relationship hidden from Gregson and Bell, but it was impossible. The torrid glances that passed between them, even when they were trying to suppress them gave them away. In addition the relaxed and calm Sherlock, at the height of his virile male self, and the almost placid Joan reflecting the satisfaction that a woman knows when she has her man were evidence enough to anyone who knew them of what existed between them.
Bell approached the subject with Gregson.
"Captain, have you noticed anything different with Sherlock and Watson?"
"You mean the way they can't keep their eyes off each other these days? Yes, I have noticed that."
"You think they got it goin' on?"
"If they do, it's about time. Now that Sherlock is past that Moriarty situation I think he's ready to move on with his life."
"They came out of that interrogation room at the far end of the hall a while ago and they were both pretty flushed. And it didn't look like they were mad at each other," Bell chuckled.
Gregson finally broached the subject with Sherlock when they were working on a case that involved a particularly nasty murder. First Gregson saw Joan turn away in revulsion from the grisly scene and then Sherlock reached for Joan's hand and held it tightly as they discussed the gory murder scene. After that he led her away to the side and whispered something into her ear that made Joan flush and nod her head. It was obvious that things had moved to the next level between them.
"So Sherlock, you and Joan . . . you're pretty close these days, eh?" Gregson stated as a matter of fact. "I was watching you two at the crime scene today. Is there something I should know?"
"Well . . . l . . . yes, we are," Sherlock replied. "We were trying to keep it quiet, but I guess it's quite strong, Gregson. I admit it. I'm in love with her."
"Have you told her that . . . in those words?"
"Well, no. I guess you would say that we have an understanding on that score."
"And that understanding extends into the bedroom?"
"Yes, it does. I must confess that we've been at it non stop for a couple of weeks now."
"Well, then you need to say those words. I don't care if the two of you are having sex morning, noon and night, a woman has to hear those words. Those words are her security. I'm telling you this from experience, Sherlock. Do you want someone else to tell her those words?"
"I don't think I could live without her, Gregson. She is all I want."
"Saying you need a woman is completely different from saying that you love her. Don't leave any question in her mind or she will not be secure, Sherlock."
Gregson's tone was dead serious. And Sherlock fully appreciated the truth of Gregson's words in view of what had happened between Joan and Mycroft in London. What had happened between Joan and Mycroft had pained him beyond belief.
"Well, then you must give her that security. And you must protect her. Don't let her be in danger, Sherlock. This is not child's play here. Sometimes people get hurt or even killed trying to do what we do."
"I will remember that. Thank you, Captain."
A couple weeks after this Mycroft came back to New York to oversee matters at Diogenes, his new restaurant, and when he used the key Sherlock had given him to come into the brownstone he found Sherlock with Joan on his lap, cuddling with her on the sofa. When they did not move from the intimate situation he had found them in, Mycroft knew that they had found themselves as a couple. He had sensed that Sherlock and Joan were destined to be a couple when he was with them previously. It was only his wicked need to establish his supremacy over his younger brother that kept him from immediately capitulating and backing away from any possibility of serious contact with Joan when they first got to London.
Mycroft stood somewhat awkwardly in the living room of the brownstone, assessing the change in the situation between Sherlock and Joan.
"Welcome, Mycroft. You know where your room is if you need it . . . the same one you used when you were last here. No need to go to a hotel."
"I'm sorry, Sherlock . . . and Joan. Forgive me for encroaching upon what the two of you of you obviously have here. If it means anything, Sherlock, I'm sorry for what happened. We had too much to drink. We were just two needy persons reaching out in the dark. That's all it was. Carry on."
Mycroft turned and walked upstairs to his room and closed the door behind him.
Joan sat with her head bowed facing Sherlock on his lap. She deeply regretted letting things get out of hand with Mycroft and desperately wanted to fix things. Sherlock was angry that Mycroft had been with Joan, but he knew that he and Joan were simply trying to find their way to each other and had not been a couple sexually when it happened. He was a practical man, not one easily disposed to throw stones. Nevertheless that night after Joan admitted to him that she and Mycroft had been together, Sherlock went to his room, closed his door and lay in his bed crying his heart out.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock . . . so sorry that that happened with Mycroft. When I was with him, I suddenly knew that that was not what I wanted to do, that I really wanted to be with you. I froze up, Sherlock. I begged him to stop and he did."
"So what Mycroft said is true? he said that it wasn't serious."
"Yes, that is true. I guess I knew in my heart that I really wanted you, Sherlock. Actually we didn't even . . . finish. I asked him to stop. I had had too much wine, but I still knew that I didn't want it to go that far. And he stopped. I guess he, like you proved in the final analysis to be a gentleman in matters like that."
"I need to tell you something, Joan." Sherlock tipped her face up so that he could look into her dark eyes. She was flushed, quite embarrassed by the circumstances.
"What do you want to tell me, Sherlock?"
"I want to tell you that I love you. I love you more than anyone else in the whole world, and I will never stop loving you."
Sherlock clasped her around her thighs as he rested his head on her breasts.
"I know that I have never said these words to you, but I say them tonight. I love you, Joan Watson."
Joan slid off the his lap to the soft scatter rug and throw pillows on the floor beside the sofa and drew him down into her arms and onto her.
"I love you too, Sherlock. I have loved you for a long time. You are all that I want. Do you know that? I wanted to tell you, but I had to wait till you felt the same way toward me, till all that horrid mess with Moriarty was over."
Sherlock kissed Joan passionately as they lay on the floor beside their sofa and then he drew her up from the floor onto him and held her again, kissing her over and over on her neck and chest and cheeks, before he picked her up and carried her to his bed.
As they stood looking at each other in the low lamplight of the bedroom, Joan slowly undressed for him. He loved for her to do that.
"Oh, my God, Joan . . . my dearest Joan, my lovely honeybee," He murmured as he took her into his arms again as they lay down in their bed together."Please show me the beautiful Jade Gate? Do I have to use my imagination?"
"No, Mycroft would have had to imagine it. But you do not have to use your imagination, Sherlock."
"Oh, my darling Joan . . . let's experience the clouds and the rain together again?"
"Yes, the clouds and the rain. I want to surrender to you."
"Who explained to you how important it is to take care of the yang? Was it your mother when she explained the man/woman thing to you?"
"Yes. We always were very open with each other on that score. She sensed that the yang is very strong in you, Sherlock, and she admonished me to diligently to take care of it. She told me that after she first met you and realized that I was developing feelings for you even before I was wiling to admit it to myself."
"Sherlock is an unusual man, Joan. I discerned that from our meeting earlier this evening. Are you prepared to be involved with a man like him?"
"Involved with him? Mother, he is a client. I can't be involved with him that way."
"That may be the case, but there is an attraction between the two of you. He is a man and the yang must be cared for, Joan. Your Sherlock seems rather tense and jittery. The yang must be cared for regularly to calm his nerves. You will have to be the one to take care of him in that way. Don't get involved with him if you are not willing to take care of the yang. The clouds and the rain are good for you as well. You need to settle with the man you will spend the rest of your life with. The yang must be healthy to take care of the yin."
"Your mother is a wise woman, Joan. Oh God, you do take care of me!"
Sherlock shuddered as their passions took hold of them and took all speech away from both of them. When they were satisfied, they fell asleep, still clinging together.
Later Sherlock wakened and went into the kitchen. His flesh was calmed now and he wanted to work on the current case for a while and have a cup of tea before going back to the warmth of bed with Joan.
It was three in the morning and he found Mycroft sitting at the table having tea already.
"Ah, just in time, Sherlock. Do you still suffer from insomnia?"
"To an extent. It's better since Joan and I began to cohabit. She is very good for me, Mycroft."
"That much is obvious. And I hope that you are good for her as well. Take good care of her, Sherlock. I will not forgive you if you let her slip through your fingers. She is the best thing that ever happened to you."
"You're right . . . on all counts. She saved me, Mycroft. We didn't intend to become a couple, but it began to happen as soon as we met. We tried to be platonic, but we became so intimate in other aspects of our life that we realized that we were just fooling ourselves, ignoring the obvious. We both knew that we were sexually drawn to each other. I blame myself to a great extent for what happened between the two of you. I was trying to maintain a platonic relationship with Joan, but that ship had already sailed in a sense. I let Joan suffer for needing to be cared for sexually and that made her vulnerable. It pained me greatly to know that she had been violated . . . and by my own brother."
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. It was insensitive of me to fail to recognize what you were feeling for Joan. But, let me say this. It was interrupted, Sherlock," Mycroft said matter-of-factly. "Coitus interruptus would be the technical description. Interrupted, but not because of fear of impregnating her. . . I am sterile since the chemotherapy treatments, but interrupted because she asked me to stop. Actually when she called your name in the midst of our connection, that rather ended it for me, I dare say."
Sherlock sat quietly processing what Mycroft had just said to him as they continued to drink their tea. He did not speak as he processed what Mycroft had told him.
"Do you plan to marry her, Sherlock?"
"Yes, I do, if she will have me. I never wanted to marry before, felt it an unnatural arrangement. I never felt that monogamy was beneficial to the human condition, but I have changed. Life teaches you certain things. I have no desire for any other woman but Joan. And I have this urge to have children with her and I surmise that she feels the same."
"I must say that I envy you, Sherlock. Life is strange, isn't it?"
"I want to apologize for encroaching on your relationship with Nigella when you were engaged to her. I had no right to do that. I guess I realized the gravity of what I had done when you had sex with Joan. I felt it was the ultimate violation."
"I am sorry. I truly am."
Sherlock poured another cup of tea for himself and sat back down with his brother. The issues between them were resolved now. Finally Sherlock got up and put his empty mug into the sink.
"Stay down here as long as you like, Mycroft. Joan doesn't like to wake up alone, so I'm going back to bed. There is everything you need for breakfast here. Just help yourself. We don't have a case currently so we're in some sort of honeymoon phase here so we will see you later in the day."
Sherlock flushed and shook his head and Mycroft just smiled as he saw his brother so in love with his woman. He wished that he had never touched Joan, but the history of rivalry between him and Sherlock kept him from being completely repentant.
Later when morning came, Sherlock and Joan lay in bed talking about their future together. There was so much to speak about between them. It seemed that there were not enough words to express all that they were feeling. They had wakened entwined together. It was the way they wakened every morning now and they loved the early morning intimacy, the waking each other up with caresses and gentle touches, enjoying the warmth of their bed together. Sherlock spooned with Joan, whispering into her ear nonstop words that made her blush, words that made her smile, words that revealed everything that was in his heart.
"Joan Watson, luv, will you please let me take you out this evening? I would like you to ask your mother to come along as well. I have something I want to ask you and I need her there."
Joan sat straight up in bed, her long hair falling onto him in a dark curtain, overwhelming him with her natural beauty.
"Sherlock, what are you going to do?"
"I will tell you, but I want you to allow me to do it the way that I want to. You may deduce it if you wish. You are altogether brilliant. You know that I love you with all that I am, Joan."
"Sherlock . . ." Joan hugged him for all she was worth. "I love you, baby. And I say 'yes' to you. I say 'yes' to you, Sherlock."
Sherlock smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her all over her cheeks and upon her mouth. He tasted her and himself upon her lips, and then he buried his face between her breasts, inhaling the scent of her and of her perfume mingled with his own scent. Joan ran her hands through his hair and she sighed, delighting in the sensation of the scruff of his beard on her breasts.
"My darling Joan," he whispered as he felt himself going down for the count again.
That evening Sherlock and Joan dressed elegantly to go out for the evening. They stepped out of the brownstone a stunning couple for their evening together. Joan had called her mother and invited her to have dinner with them and Mary Watson was glad to accept. She realized that Joan's relationship with Sherlock had escalated and was anxious to see it progress. Joan's mother had sensed from the beginning that this would be the defining relationship of her daughter's life, even when neither Joan nor Sherlock was ready to acknowledge it as such.
Mary Watson was already at the restaurant and was delighted at the sight of Sherlock and Joan coming in together. It was obvious that they were a couple, deeply in love with each other . . . every tender glance or gesture fairly shouting it to the world. It was also obvious that they were now sexual partners. It was as if it was written across both their faces. Joan was radiant and glowing and Sherlock fairly exuded sheer masculine energy.
Dessert was brought to them . . . a lovely chocolate mousse that Sherlock and Joan shared. Mary Watson had coffee and enjoyed watching the lovers. Then Sherlock took out of his jacket a lovely full carat brown diamond ring and presented it to Joan.
"I would very much like the privilege of marrying your daughter, Joan. I am asking for her hand because I love her with all my heart."
Mary Watson simply smiled and nodded as Sherlock put the ring on Joan's finger and then kissed her hand.
"I guess we should plan for a wedding in late spring," Mary Watson said.
However another series of events was set in motion shortly after they came to terms with their love for each other and were engaged and this forced a change in their plans.
It was the next week when Gregson called Sherlock and Joan to tell them that Jamison Moriarty had escaped from the Brooklyn House of Detention. She had been in the infirmary and subdued a nurse, impersonated her and walked out. No one knew her whereabouts now.
"I know that you and Joan are very close and that might trigger something I that woman. She might be one of those who doesn't want you, but doesn't want Joan to have you either."
Sherlock put his arm around Joan in front of Gregson, something he had never done.
"I love this woman. Please help me keep my woman safe, Tommy."
"We are going to set up 24 hour surveillance outside. I am glad that you followed my suggestion and got George here after Joan was assaulted a couple weeks ago."
The big black Lab they had adopted thumped his tail at the sound of his name and lay across Joan's feet protectively.
Gregson stood to go, at a loss as to how to protect these two that he had come to be so attached too. Seeing Sherlock so deeply I love with Joan and her so caught up in him only heightened his concern. He had known that Joan was in love with Sherlock early in the game and she had proved her strength when Moriarty came back into the picture. Now Gregson did not want to see that all go for naught.
Sherlock closed the door behind Gregson and put his arm around Joan's waist as they stood just inside the front door of the brownstone.
"I don't know what to say. I want to marry you, Joan, but this evil woman is still in the picture. I need you so."
Sherlock pressed up against Joan and she knew his need.
"Let's have some tea and try to think this out," Joan suggested.
"Help me, Joan, please help me," Sherlock begged, drawing her back into the parlor and toward the sofa. "I am so distracted by my love for you that I cannot think clearly. That clarity that I need so is just not there. For the first time in my life I want to marry and have children, but look at our situation."
"Sit down and let me make tea, Sherlock. You need to think about what Gregson told us. We need all of that beautiful intellect working at top speed."
Sherlock relaxed his arms from around and let Joan go to make their tea as his mind went top speed at the problem facing them now. But as he stared at the beautiful woman bringing tea to him, his thoughts turned only to Joan and his love for her. And as she knelt before him to serve him his tea, Sherlock groaned softly and drew her up into his arms and set the cup of tea aside.
"Lord, Joan, I need you now, woman," he said as he began to kiss her all over her face. "Please, luv. Please."
And Joan did not refuse him.