Valentine's Day
By Hazelmist
Ship: Joan Watson x Sherlock Holmes and Watson x OC
Summary: For a few glorious minutes, she can picture the life that this wonderful man wants to offer her and she sees a second chance for the happily ever after that she had denied herself. But when he gets down on one knee in the middle of that restaurant and opens that little black box in front of all those people, all she can think of is Sherlock.
Author's Note: In the Sherlock Holmes stories, John Watson marries Mary Morstan. I thought it would be interesting to introduce the male version of Mary but you'll have to read on to find out what happens. Sorry if the characters seem OOC, this is my first Elementary fanfic.
Their six month anniversary falls on Valentine's Day and he romantically insists on braving the stormy weather, the crowds, the overpriced dinners, and the nauseating couples. He tells her to dress up because he's taking her somewhere fancy. So she puts on her best dress, and the outrageously high stilettos that are painful to walk in, and the expensive necklace she hardly ever wears. He takes her to the swankiest restaurant in the city, and it's not really their style at all but they spend half the night people watching and laughing. She's still giggling after his last hilarious observation concerning the woman stealing spoons from table eight when she spots the little black box. She chokes on her wine.
"Are you alright?" he asks with concern.
She nods but she's still struggling to catch her breath. He makes her laugh again and he almost sets her at ease. She's comfortable with him. She always has been. He's handsome, funny, brilliant and just as passionate about his work as he is about her. He's perfect for her. And she's perfect for him.
For a few glorious minutes, she can picture the life that this wonderful man wants to offer her and she sees a second chance for the happily ever after that she had denied herself.
But when he gets down on one knee in the middle of that restaurant and opens that little black box in front of all those people, all she can think of is Sherlock.
Sherlock knows that Watson has a date for Valentine's Day. Sherlock knows that his name is Marty Morstan and that six months ago he literally ran in to her in Central Park and has spent the past six months doing everything in his power to run into her again and again and again. He also knows that Marty has no criminal history, is financially stable, has never been married and has passed every single background check Sherlock could think of. Sherlock doesn't know why, but he wishes Marty had failed the final rigorous check, but Marty's records are squeaky clean. Marty is on paper and in person (he may have put him under surveillance) an ideal match for Watson. This displeases Sherlock immensely.
It seemed easy enough in the beginning to arrange dates for Watson via her cell phone when he got bored, or when she was suffocating him and he was still trying to get rid of her. But these rarely ended in sex or more than a third date, mostly because of him, and the latest case they were working on together always took precedence. Marty was different. Somehow they were still dating and obviously sleeping together after six months. Sherlock doesn't know how he let it happen or why it bothers him so much that it did.
He sits alone in front of his televisions, not really seeing or hearing any of it because his mind is several blocks away where Watson and Marty are dining at one of the finest restaurants in the city. He keeps recalling a case that he worked with Watson when she was still his sober companion, when he took her to the very same restaurant to meet a victim's financial advisor and predicted that the young couple at the table behind them were about to get engaged. He was correct of course, he nearly always was.
For the first time in a long time, Sherlock hopes he's wrong and that he's misread all the little details and signs concerning the future of his companion's relationship with Marty. He shuts off the televisions, rises from his chair, and restlessly moves about the flat they still share together despite the fact that more than half her stuff is at Marty's place and the rest will soon follow. He never really noticed how much the place had changed since she decided to stay on permanently. But now he sees all of the little things she did and how she gradually made his sanctum sanatorium into her own. The transition had been made so seamlessly, just like her transformation from the irritating sober companion to the partner he couldn't bear to lose. However, tonight, perhaps right at this very moment, he was losing her to another man.
Unless... But it is too late for that now…
"SHERLOCK!"
Or is it?
He hurries to the door and opens it before she starts hollering loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood up. It's sleeting out. She's cold, soaked, and furious. And he's never found the sight of her more beautiful than he does now. She tosses aside the broken umbrella and slams the door shut behind her before she whirls on him.
"You changed the locks?!" She swipes at his chest and he stumbles back a step.
"I did."
"Why would you do that?" She asks, shoving her dripping hair out of her face.
"I thought it was necessary considering…" He tries to take her coat, but she won't let him get away.
"Considering what?" she asks him, grabbing at his shirt again so that he's forced to face her.
His eyes stray to her hand on his shirt and he sees a ray of hope. He reaches for it, just to confirm that there's no diamond there or any other precious metal. The slender white fingers relax beneath his until her hand is resting flat upon his chest. His fingers twine around hers, still searching carefully even though it could mean nothing at all. He meets her eye but he doesn't have to continue, she's shockingly good at deducing his thoughts now.
"He did ask," she confesses, lowering her gaze to his chest where their hands rest together. His heart plummets and he swallows hard. She swallows too, and then she tells him in a voice so soft that he has to strain to hear her.
"I told him no."
He closes his eyes. He's relieved but he's annoyed because there's no logical reason why she should not have accepted Marty's proposal. His heart starts to race, and so does his thoughts. In the three years they'd been together, he learned a lot about Joan Watson, more than enough to know that everything that Marty was going to offer her should have been what she desired. That was why he had been so sure he was going to lose her. Unless…
"I can't leave you," she sighs.
"Why not? You're under no obligation to stay. I'm much better now than I was before and I don't need you anymore –"
"Yes, you do," she interrupts him before he can continue. "You're better with me. You told me yourself."
He opens his mouth to protest, but she moves in to stop his words with her free hand. Her coat is still damp and cold and it rapidly soaks through his t-shirt and trousers as she pulls her body flush with his. A puddle of frigid water starts to form around his bare feet but he won't push her away. Not now. Not ever.
"I can't marry him because I belong here with you. I need you, Sherlock, just as much as you need me. We're better together. I don't know why, but it's just how it is."
He doesn't deny it. He releases a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. His breath tickles her palm and she shivers withdrawing her hand. Her whole body trembles, and he remembers that she's still freezing in her wet coat and that she's dripping all over him and the floor.
"You'll catch a cold like that," he scolds her, hastily stripping her coat off.
"I'm not that cold," she tells him but she turns into him again, gravitating toward the heat of his body. He tosses the coat aside. She's shivering and he instinctively wraps his arms around her, rubbing his warm hands up and down her back and arms in an effort to get the blood flowing.
The shock has worn off and she breaks down, mourning the loss of a future she'll never have. He clears his throat when he notices that she's not just shivering but crying.
"Watson, are you sure you're alright?" he asks hesitantly.
"I'm fine," she says in a muffled voice. But she wraps her arms around him and he lets her pull him closer.
She just walked away from the perfect man and the future every woman dreams of, but she's not your average woman anymore. Sherlock has opened her eyes and ears and changed her into something else. No ordinary man or normal life is good enough for her now.
Only Sherlock can understand.
"I'm sorry, Watson," he whispers, stroking her hair.
"Don't be," she tells him, pulling herself together. Because it's not his fault, and it's not hers either. He told her once that this way of life would come at a price, she just didn't realize what it would cost her until now.
Exhausted, she takes off her dreadful heels and announces that she's going to bed. He hangs up her coat but stops her before she reaches the stairs.
"Watson I –," he stammers to a halt and instead presses a chaste kiss to her cheek that sends a warmth through her that reaches all the way down to her cold toes. "I'll make you a new key," he offers, locking gazes with her before he leaves her alone in the foyer. It's the best he can do, but it's enough for now.
She knows now that she could have never been happy as Mrs. Morstan and if she could do it all over she would choose Sherlock again and again and again. She doesn't understand it because they're not perfect, and they're not happily ever after material, but somehow they're better together. It's a mystery but perhaps in time they'll solve that too.
Smiling, she touches her cheek and follows him upstairs.
A/N: So that's my first attempt to write Elementary fanfiction and my version of gender swapped Mary Morstan. What'd you think?