Elementary Intimacy
Chapter 7
By phaedraphelan
Word count 3,701
Summary: Sherlock and Joan continue to adjust to and deal with the change their committed relationship has brought into their lives.
Disclaimer: No infringement is intended upon material of CBS or NBC or any one else in the industry.
After the resolution of the McIntyre case, Sherlock and Joan decided to take a few days for her to recover emotionally at home before taking another case. Joan had been thoroughly rattled by Jean-Luc's attempt to take her hostage at the precinct. When they got home that day, Sherlock took her by the hand and led her to the orange sofa in their living room. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he simply removed her cardigan so that he could examine her arms again. When he saw the dark purple bruises on her upper arms, he sighed and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, luv, so sorry," he murmured over and over as he kissed her gently on the bruise marks.
"And then Marjorie McIntyre had the nerve to hit on you!"
Joan finally broke down in his arms in tears as the full weight of anxiety about the events of the day came completely down on her.
"Joan, luv, are you worried about the widow McIntyre? Don't you know that all that sort of thing is over. As far as I'm concerned no other woman exists. Your face and your lovely hind parts are my only concern now. Please try to believe in me on that score. I love you, Joan. I am crazy in love with you, woman."
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn't be so emotional. I realize that women will come after you and I understand the risks in what we do. I know that I am due for my period in a couple days and I just may have been more vulnerable emotionally."
"Well, yes, your menses is due in three more days. And your lovely female parts tend to be congested at this time, making you in special need of my attention.
"I should know that you would keep up with my personal calendar."
"But, putting that aside, you are only human, and that was frightening. My heart leaped in my chest when that bloke grabbed you. I literally saw red. I wanted to break him in half. I don't want another man to ever put his hands on you. You're my woman, Joan. It's my business to know every fascinating aspect of you, luv," Sherlock said.
Joan flushed in that way that always made Sherlock want to hug her tight.
"And when do your parts get congested, I may ask?"
"I don't have a special time. All I have to do is see you, and I'm toast."
Then Sherlock's voice turned husky and he kissed her on her trembling lips, soothing her and at the same time waking up the passions of both of them.
"I think that we need to lie down for a while, luv. Let's calm our jangled nerves a bit."
Joan simply nodded as he welcomed her into his arms and began to undress her. Sherlock was tender with her as he began to make love to her, drawing her on top of him as they stretched out together on their sofa, whispering the love words he uttered in their most intimate moments, as Joan clung to him. But when Joan began to moan and go to pieces as he made love to her, Sherlock lost all his control.
"God, Joan! Oh, God!" he cried out groaning in agony in that manner of his that carried her away completely. "I can't bear to see you hurt! Tell me you're my woman!"
"Oh, Sherlock, yes! Yes! I am your woman! Yes! Sherlock!" Joan wailed his name out loud and bit him hard near his collarbone as ecstasy swept her.
Sherlock held his trembling woman in his arms, taking her breath away with his kisses, ravishing her till his release came and the brilliant flashes of light that exploded in his brain caused him to snort and growl as he shook and shuddered under her.
"Oh my God! Joan! Joan!"
Finally he just held Joan on his chest softly crooning her name as he gave her every last bit of his life force as Joan joyfully received him.
"Oh, Sherlock . . . baby, I love you. I'm sorry for doubting you. I didn't mean to bite you, but I couldn't help it."
"You may mark me anyway you want to. I love you so, Joan, so much. I just can't help myself when we get going like this. I have never been with a woman who could make me feel like this. Oh, Joanie, when I'm inside you, I can't think about anything except the pleasure of you holding me inside you the way that you do."
"I do love you, Sherlock . . . so much."
Joan began to tremble helplessly as another wave of ecstasy swept her. They couldn't stop the waves of rapture that kept coming as they lay conquered on their sofa till they finally fell asleep.
It was after midnight when Joan awakened in Sherlock's arms on the sofa.
"Joan, luv, let me help you to bed," Sherlock whispered into her ear.
"Umm . . . Sherlock, so tired, take me to bed, baby."
Sherlock picked Joan up in his arms and carried her up to her bedroom in spite of her protests. He put her on her bed and then found her nightgown and started to draw it over her.
"It's all right, Sherlock," Joan protested.
"I don't want you to get a chill, luv. Let me take care of you."
"Thank you for taking care of me, Sherlock. I was so tired I couldn't move."
"Just rest, darling . . . Rest next to me."
Sherlock lay down beside Joan and wrapped his arms around her and soon he heard the soft rhythmic pattern of her breathing as she dropped into deep sleep again.
Since they began to cohabit, Sherlock and Joan always slept together. It was a new experience for both of them. Joan had had only Oren as a sibling, so she never shared a bed on a regular basis with anyone. Other than during sexual liaisons she always slept alone. Sherlock's experience had been similar. He and his older brother Mycroft had never shared a bed together. His relationship with Irene had been by appointment and had not involved "living together" on any semblance of a regular basis either.
Now that living together involved them "sleeping together" Sherlock and Joan found that they craved it, enjoyed it more than they could have imagined. Whatever they had disagreed about, even argued about during the day melted into insignificance when they lay down together. The moments when they wakened cuddled together had a constant healing effect on them emotionally. In spite of moments of disagreement, even conflict during the day, sharing a bed made each of them aware of their mutual interdependence.
Beyond the fact that it made each of them available sexually to the other, there were other more subtle pleasures and benefits to be enjoyed and savored. Sherlock immediately learned that Joan snored lightly when she slept deeply. It did not disturb him, but rather was comforting to him, a reassurance of her presence. Neither of them was accustomed to sleep without nightclothes, but now they found that they often slept nude after their sexual encounters. That contact between their warm naked flesh was simply a marvelous extension of the sexual intimacy they enjoyed and often led to repeated acts of love till they exhausted themselves.
Sherlock himself seldom snored, finding relief from his persistent insomnia in Joan's bed in deep restorative sleep, an unexpected benefit of his sexual relationship with Joan. Their moments of sexual passion were so intense and so all-encompassing that they both often simply passed out, still joined together.
When mornings came, they found Sherlock and Joan cuddled, clinging, spooning and this often led to early morning sharing of their bodies as well. On this night when Sherlock had cared so tenderly for Joan's emotional shock and insecurities then carried her off to bed, Joan wakened shortly after three a.m. in her bed with Sherlock wrapped around her from behind her. Sherlock's arms around her calmed her as she reflected on what had happened at the precinct the previous afternoon. She loved being enveloped in his masculine scent, feeling the hardness of his muscular body against her. The sensation of being totally protected in his arms comforted her beyond anything she could have imagined and made her heart well up with the deepest love for him.
While Sherlock usually talked constantly as he made love to her, telling her all the emotions that were spilling from his heart, Joan found it difficult to tell him her feelings. She had guarded them for so long, never wanting to let any man know how vulnerable she was, for fear he would take advantage of that. Now her heart was so full of emotion for Sherlock, that it was sure to spill over.
Joan woke up during the night and turned so that she was facing Sherlock in his arms.
"Joan," he murmured softly.
Joan adjusted her position and she put her hand against his chest so she could feel his heart beating there.
"Sherlock . . . Sherlock," she whispered, as she gently rubbed his chest, enjoying the tactile sensation of the abundant hair there.
"Yes . . . luv . . . umm," Sherlock sighed, gradually coming awake, realizing the signals that Joan was sending to him, his flesh responding involuntarily to her in his arms.
"Sherlock, I love you. I love you so much that it terrifies me."
Sherlock came full awake at Joan's words. She was trembling and he felt the wetness of her tears on his chest.
"Luv, what terrifies you. I'm here for you."
At this stage in their relationship Sherlock's declarations of love outweighed Joan's similar declarations by at least ten to one, so he took her words very seriously in moments like these. He kissed Joan tenderly on her forehead and on her cheeks and felt her cling to him even more tightly as she began to sob.
"I just love you so much, Sherlock. I can't help myself, baby. I can't hold back anything from you. I can't hold the words back any longer. What can I do, Sherlock?"
"I have never loved as I love you, Joanie. And the longer we are together, the more I love you. Please don't doubt what we have. I have never been committed to anyone as I am now to you."
"But if something happened to you, I'm afraid that I would not be able to go on."
"Don't think about that, luv. Think about how much we love each other. Think about being with me for the rest of your life, bearing our children, sharing the sadnesses and the joys. Do you want that as much as I do?"
"Yes! Yes! Sherlock."
"Then we must take the next step, Joan. We need to be married. You need to toss those birth control pills and we need to be trying to have a wee one together."
"But what about Moriarty?"
"Damn Moriarty! We cannot allow her to hold our relationship hostage. We are a committed couple. We love each other."
Sherlock drew Joan onto him and kissed her in that manner of his that left no question as to what would happen next as his lips possessed hers with such hunger that her flesh surged in response to his urgent need for her.
"Sherlock! Yes!" Joan cried his name.
Sherlock was kissing her over and over on her her face and mouth and then he took her and they began to rock in the age-old rhythm of coitus, clinging together in tears as they found satisfaction in each other's flesh.
"God help us! Oh, God, Joan! Don't be afraid, luv! Don't be afraid! I'll always take care of you!"
Joan gripped Sherlock's shoulders as ecstasy seized her, unable to stop moaning Sherlock's name as the spasms of the climax seized her as she surrendered her very soul to him. Hearing Joan so overwhelmed only pushed Sherlock completely over the edge of sensual intoxication as his loins delivered their fullness in that supreme moment.
When Joan surrendered to Sherlock on this night, she gave him all of herself with an intensity that astonished even her. As she lay in his arms in the afterglow in that early predawn morning, Joan felt as if her heart would burst with love for Sherlock. All his quirks, all his foibles, all his frailties she cherished as belonging to her. She embraced every one of them and she loved him with a fierceness that she would not have imagined possible.
"Sherlock," she whispered into his ear.
Sherlock was so intoxicated in the aftermath of their sexual encounter that he was still somewhat out of it and still quite enervated after the powerful ejaculation he had experienced moments earlier.
"Yes, Joan . . . luv. . ."
"I have to say something, Sherlock. I know it's late, and we have exhausted ourselves, but I must tell you something."
"Yes, Joan." Sherlock turned in Joan's arms and kissed her tenderly on her cheek.
"I just need to tell you that what I feel for you, Sherlock, is not like anything I have ever felt for anyone else in my life. When I am in your arms, when I hold you inside me, it is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It is like the very first time that I have ever been loved by a man. All my heart belongs to you . . . all my . . . everything, Sherlock. I love you so much, baby. I will never let another man kiss me, undress me, touch me. You make me cry out for joy, Sherlock, when I feel you throbbing inside me the way that you do."
Joan began to tremble in Sherlock's arms and he held her tightly. He was so taken with Joan's words that for the moment he could not speak. He inhaled the scent of her and him mingled together from the warm place between her breasts and he felt drunk with his passion for her.
"Thank you, Joanie. I think we are both sure that we have found what we both have been looking for all of our lives. There is no where else that I could possibly want to be at this moment, no one else that could possibly interest me sexually or any other way. I will protect you with all that I am. I do love you and need you so intensely that I can hardly think about anything else. And it's not just about your lovely arse. Your mind is so beautiful, whether we are working together on a case or when we are lying in bed eating crispy chicken and french fries together out of each other's hands, licking each other's fingers."
Sherlock kissed Joan's temple and smoothed her hair as they lay snuggled together.
"You need to sleep, luv. It will soon be morning and you won't be able to get out of this bed," Sherlock whispered.
Sherlock was hardly ever too tired to rise early in the morning. Regardless of his nocturnal activities, Sherlock practically bounced out of bed, but Joan was always in need of more sleep. Nowadays he tried to get up early as was his habit previously to being involved with Joan but he found it very difficult to leave his bed with Joan in it since they had been sleeping together.
"I do love being in bed with you. Maybe we can sleep till noon tomorrow."
"Will you make love to me when the sunlight is coming into this room in the morning, Joan? Please, luv."
"I promise you, Sherlock."
Sherlock smiled in the darkness and smoothed her hair, urging her to sleep again till he felt her relax in his arms and then gradually sink into deep sleep again. The sound of her gentle snoring confirmed to Sherlock that she had indeed dropped off again.
He lay in bed with Joan and his eyes filled and spilled over as he thought about the complicated woman that he loved so.
I know she has anxieties but she need not fear that my love for her is doing other than growing harder and harder for her every day that I live. I can't contain my passion for her. Just lying here beside her I can only think of her needs, of protecting her from harm. I can't let anything harm come to her. She could have been hurt yesterday. If something were to happen to her . . . I would not want to live. Dear God, please don't let harm come to her because of being with me. My God, I am praying! For the first time in my life, I am even talking to that higher power they talk about at the sobriety meetings.
Sherlock reached around Joan's waist to touch her smooth belly and Joan just murmured his name in her sleep and clasped his hand to her midsection and continued to slumber peacefully with her legs entwined with Sherlock's.
The next day Sherlock, Joan and Gregson sat down to discuss their predicament, namely protecting themselves from Moriarty's people in view of the change in Sherlock and Joan's relationship.
"Joan and I are going to marry, Tommy." Sherlock held Joan's hand as they sat side by side in Gregson's office. "I can't let this Moriarty thing dictate our lives."
"One thing is for sure. You need to enhance your security. I would suggest that you get a dog for one thing. There is no better way to protect your perimeter."
"Oh, no! We have the bees, a tortoise, pet chickens, and now a dog!" Joan said wearily.
"We have to approach this problem in various ways. Why don't we start with a dog and go from there?"
Sherlock and Joan decided to start by following Gregson's advice.
"Let's at least get a rescue dog," Joan said.
They headed to the ASPCA on Manhattan's east side where they found a selection of possible dogs to adopt. The dogs were all clamoring for their attention with exception of a large black Lab who lay brooding in the corner of his cage.
"What's the matter with him?" Joan asked.
"He's a fine specimen, fully trained, intelligent. He was being trained to be a service dog, but the just as his training was nearly finished, his handler was killed in a car crash. The poor thing has not been himself since. The trauma came at the wrong time. He just doesn't respond to anyone. That is how he came to be here."
At that moment the dog got up and lumbered over to the side of the cage where Joan was standing and sniffed at her hand.
"Well, that's amazing! You're the first person this dog has related to."
"Maybe he sees a kindred spirit," Joan said. "I think we should take this one home. What's his name?"
"He answers to George, but you can change that."
"No need to cause any more trauma, eh, Watson," Sherlock said. "Write this one up. We're going to take George home with us."
George wagged his tail slowly as Joan patted his big head and led him out of the shelter.
"I think we just made a serious addition to our family, luv."
They made their way back to Brooklyn and George easily settled in at the brownstone. When Joan made tea and sat down beside Sherlock to relax together with him, George came over and put his head on Joan's lap.
"Now I believe he is in my territory," Sherlock said as he leaned in for a kiss from Joan.
George whimpered softly as he saw Sherlock kissing Joan.
"It's all right, George. Go lie down now," Joan said, patting him gently on his head and using the command they had been given to use when they wanted George to give them privacy.
The dog whimpered in protest, but obediently went and lay down on the floor behind the sofa as Sherlock intensified his passionate kiss with Joan, drawing her up onto his lap, sliding his hand upward along her thigh, letting his slender fingers slip toward her most intimate place.
"I think George understands us humans quite well, don't you?"
Joan nodded as Sherlock moved in for another kiss.