In which Joan meets Holmes and Sherlock meets Emily
Watson sat in her bed that night, thinking about the day. The lead the police found turned out to be a good one, and eventually they caught the man who had been murdering several college students on NYU's campus. And while they agreed to keep things professional during cases, she was pretty sure Sherlock was grinning like an idiot whenever her back was turned. She knew she had been.
The conversation she had with her family that morning was a relatively good one. Her mother was ecstatic and insisted on taking her dress shopping very soon. Her father was happy that she was happy. And Oren? He had his doubts, but knew that Joan could take care of herself. She had called Emily, her only real girlfriend, and told her the news. She was definitely not happy, and this upset Joan more than a little. While Em had finally supported her decision to become a detective, she had reservations about Sherlock and was still prejudice against his addiction. Well, she hadn't met him yet and that would have to change if Emily was going to be her Maid of Honor.
All in all, the day had been interesting. She was engaged to Sherlock Holmes, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. On the one hand she was thrilled, ecstatic even. She loved Sherlock with all of her heart, that she was sure of. But she was worried, he hadn't even said he loved her yet. Not that he really needed to. He may not have said the words, but it was clear in everything that he did. Every word he spoke to her, every time he looked at her; it was obvious that he was in love with her. He wouldn't have proposed if he hadn't. Watson knew this. And then there was the whole sex thing, which, while she would freely admit (maybe not to him) that she sometimes fantasized what it would be like to sleep with him, the actual act illogically scared her.
As if Sherlock had read her mind (she was sure that he could), he entered her room in true Sherlock fashion and simply walked in without knocking. Joan didn't mind, she hardly ever closed her door anymore. And they were engaged, so he should be able to enter room whenever he liked.
"It seems that I have not yet mastered the art of communication, my dear Watson." He was nervous; and when Sherlock was nervous, Joan was nervous.
"Hmm?" Joan asked, coming back from her thoughts, a little worriedly.
"This morning I proposed, and you said yes which if it wasn't clear, made me extremely happy. I have failed, however, to ask you how you felt about the matter."
Joan smiled and patted the open space on the bed next to her. Sherlock readily obliged, and sitting up, leaned back against the head board next to her. Unconsciously their hands intertwined, something Joan imagined would be happening a lot more now.
"Truthfully?" Joan asked.
Sherlock bit back his witty remark, sensing the trepidation in her voice. "I'm afraid. To be honest. I'm afraid this won't work; afraid that if we split up, what will happen to us as partners, afraid that one day you'll get bored of me...I'm not Irene. I don't mean Moriarty, I mean the Irene that you fell in love with. I'm not her." The last part slipped out, and Joan hadn't even realized that she was worried about that possibility.
"No, you're not Irene. You are different, and so much better in so many ways. You are not a hinderance. You challenge me in a completely different way, not as an obstacle that one must figure out how to get around, but a coach. One that sees one's potential and pushes one to strive for it. And in my humblest opinion, you are far more beautiful. Joan."
Sherlock reached down and lifted her chin, so that she was looking at him. "I really wish you'd be rid of that self doubt. I do not intend for much to change after we are married. There will definitely be more sex, that I am going make sure of, but beyond that I hope that our partnership remains very much the same." Sherlock smirked, one of those minuscule smiles that Joan had to learn to detect.
She smiled back just a little, and he continued. "And I promise you that if it comes to a point where our romantic relationship no longer works, our professional relationship will not be affected."
"You shouldn't make promises you can't-" Joan began to say, but Sherlock cut her off.
"As to being bored of you, I had hoped by now that you would of realized that I could never be bored of you. You're an enigma, no matter how many times I think I've solved you, you go and do something that proves me completely wrong. I don't believe I have said this yet, but my dear dear Watson, I am most unequivocally and irrevocably in love with you."
He smiled wide and planted a deep kiss on Joan's lips. That night, Joan fell asleep in Sherlock's arms with a smile on her face. Her fantasies didn't even come close to the real thing.
The next morning morning Joan woke with a start. Terrified that yesterday had been nothing more than a dream, she quickly looked down to examine her left hand. She smiled, as the ring was still happily on her finger. It was then she realized that she was completely naked.
So last night had happened as well, She thought. Joan's smiled broadened into a full blown grin as she remembered the night before. Looking about, she noticed a neat pile of clothes on the end of her bed. An outfit perfectly picked out by Sherlock.
Once dressed she went downstairs, following the scent of coffee. "Sherlock?"
"In here!" He called back from the kitchen.
As she entered, still grinning like a fool, she said. "One word about my gait and I will smack you." She turned around and her smile faded as Joan saw Alistair eating cereal at their kitchen table. "Alistair. Hello."
"Good morning Joan." Alistair tried to conceal a smirk by drinking his coffee but failed miserably.
Watson turned to Sherlock with embarrassment. "You could have warned me we had company. Why didn't you wake me?"
Sherlock smiled without any remorse, "You looked too beautiful to disturb." He planted a kiss on the top of her head and handed her a cup of coffee.
"When has that ever stopped you before?" Joan asked, her arms crossed. She knew very well that she had him in a trap, and she wanted to see how Sherlock would get out of it.
Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again once he realized what Joan had done. If he admits that this morning was different, then he risks implying that she was not beautiful all the time, which she was, extraordinarily so. If he says that last night changed the circumstances, he risked angering her, for she did not appreciate being coddled; and furthering her embarrassment in front of Alistair. He was trapped, and this was a trap that he wasn't sure he could get out of.
Alistair saw all of this and decided to have mercy on his friend, who was thoroughly struggling, much to his amusement. "I think Sherlock means to say that this morning, he happened to take the time to really notice your spectacular beauty for the first time, and had no desire to ruin it."
Joan turned to Alistair and gave him a smile and a wink. A silent conversation between the two, communicating their equal amusement in Sherlock's loss for words. Sherlock simply nodded, agreeing with his friend's assessment, and looked at his fiancee pleadingly.
She smiled, and gave him a tender kiss on the lips as an approval. Sherlock sighed with relief after she had left the room to enjoy her coffee and talk to Emily about having dinner.
"Careful Sherlock, you're walking through a minefield now." Alistair laughed.
"Will she always be like this?"
"Joan isn't the type. I think today was a special circumstance, in that she was embarrassed and she wanted to blame you for it. It's doubtful she'll do it in a normal setting."
"I certainly hope so. She is too clever for my own good." Sherlock smiled.
A couple of hours later, long after Alistair was gone, Joan returned to the kitchen to find Sherlock hanging up his phone.
"Ah Watson, an interesting development, and before I begin, I swear to you that it was merely a coincidence that my proposal coincided with a business symposium on Wall Street this week."
"Why would a business symposium have anything to do with-"
"Because it called my father to town. I was just on the phone with him, he's agreed to dine with us for lunch this afternoon as Shangri-La downtown."
"Neither of us are dressed for Shangri-La. Now I have to go find something to wear." She began to dash off to get ready, before turning back sharply giving Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek, and turning back again to find something suitable for one of the swankiest restaurants in New York.
"By the way," She called back as she ascended the stairs, "We are having dinner with Emily tonight. And yes you have to come!"
Sherlock swallowed hard. He had avoided meeting Emily for some time. However, now it seemed impossible to shirk the introduction any longer. You couldn't tell who was more nervous, Joan or Sherlock.