Intimacy
By phaedraphelan
Word count 5,000
Chapter 8
Summary: Our following of Sherlock and Joan takes us even farther into their life together as man and woman in love. This cannot be easy for these two complicated people as they move into deeper water in their relationship. Living together day-to-day brings them even closer when a commitment exists and they continue to learn more and more about each other.
Disclaimer: The characters are the artistic property of CBS and NBC and there is no intent to encroach upon these rights intended.
Sherlock began to settle into his life with Joan after they came to terms with their feelings for each other. He finally relaxed and was able to be confident that his Joan was his partner for life and this caused him to calm quite a bit and to be less given to the characteristic tics and restless movements that he was given to.
They had come to such understanding of each other that it was impossible to imagine life without each other. They found their complete sexual mating in each other, spending hours in bed some days when there was no case pressing, finding comfort in each other again and again. Sherlock was possessed of an incredible libido which was one reason he had been so promiscuous in his habits. But now he found his match in Joan and she was more than willing to be what he needed on that score. She only required his faithfulness, and the satisfaction Sherlock realized in his connections with Joan on an intellectual level combined with their passions assured that he would never turn away from Joan for anyone else as long as she would be willing to have him. In addition to their physical attraction they realized that they were desperately in love with each other on all levels.
As a couple, Sherlock and Joan were so tuned in to each other before they became sexually involved that the shift to becoming involved this way was very easy for them. They had already learned how to argue with each other and then make up before Sherlock ever put his hands on Joan. But once they touched it was an explosively passionate relationship, and neither of them could control, much less try to understand it. Sherlock had watched and wanted Joan for more than a year as they lived together before things came to a head and they confronted their desire to be more than partners. Joan knew from the beginning but held back for two reasons.
First, she was afraid that Sherlock did not share her feelings, and second, she did not want to lose the amazing collaboration that they had found together. But ultimately they were forced to accept the marvelous gift that they had found in each other and try to forge a lasting relationship.
Sherlock and Joan continued to work cases with the NYPD and it seemed that Sherlock's deductive powers were even keener now that his libido was not distracting him as in former times. He knew himself that his sensual awareness and needs were far more than those of the average man. This extreme sensuality had been a burden to him all of his adult life, never completely satisfied. This had led him to use prostitutes as well as any available willing woman to try to calm his urges.
The problem was that he had no intellectual affinity for the women he had used so there was no permanence to the relationships—until Irene. She had captured him in her own perverse way and then played with him and nearly destroyed him.
Now as Sherlock sat with Joan in one of the interrogation rooms at the precinct waiting to interview the suspect in their latest case, he stared at her so passionately that she flushed under his gaze.
"Sherlock, l can't do anything to help you right now."
"I realize that, but it doesn't stop me . . . my mind from contemplating what we have become to each other, luv. My life is so full of thoughts of you today."
Now it was Sherlock's turn to flush as his arousal escalated. He crossed his legs in an effort to quell his excitement.
"Sherlock, I think that we should try to wrap up this case and try to go home as soon as possible. We need some time together, I believe."
Sherlock stood up and rocked back and forth on his heels in a effort to take his mind in another direction, but just looking at Joan seemed to undo him on this day. She was stunning, her clear skin just touched with pink and the tiny freckles that he loved, her brown eyes that were so wise and all-knowing and yet mysterious full of the promise of the sensual comfort he so direly needed, her slightly plump lips pursing slightly in the way that made him want to take her and kiss her in no uncertain terms.
Just then Gregson came into the interrogation room to give them the details they were waiting for.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but we jumped the gun on this case. We have to get some more evidence in hand. If you two have something else you want to do, you can come back down here later."
Tommy Gregson took a second look at Holmes and smiled knowingly.
"Hey, you two, go on back home. You don't either of you look like you have your minds on solving crimes today. I wasn't born yesterday, guys!"
Sherlock took Joan's hand and kissed her lightly on her cheek and they left the precinct.
"Let's go eat before we go home, luv. What would you like to have?"
"Let's go to Chinatown. It's close by here."
They took a taxi to one of their favorite restaurants on Canal Street. It was still early in the afternoon and the restaurant workers were busy putting together dim sum and wontons at a table in the back, but the proprietor knew Sherlock and Joan and showed them to a booth that was in a somewhat private corner.
Sherlock and Joan sat side by side on one side of the booth and ate the fresh steamed dim sum and then Joan ordered something in Chinese that was not on the menu for them—a chicken and broccoli specialty. They playfully fed each other with their chopsticks and drank cups of hot black tea.
Joan was in the corner of the booth and Sherlock sat as close to her as he could most of the time. Finally they just sat staring into each other's eyes, transfixed by the intense feelings they had for each other.
"I feel like an adolescent boy today. Let's go home, luv. I can't stand being this close to you without touching you."
Joan smiled and they prepared to leave the restaurant and go back out onto Canal Street. It was late afternoon now as they walked past the jewelry shops that lined that part of the street. Sherlock suddenly drew Joan into one of the shops and asked the salesperson to show him rings.
"I would like to see something in one of those brown diamonds, something to match the color of this woman's eyes."
The salesperson showed him a grouping of rings and Sherlock tried several on Joan's finger, observing her carefully to determine which she preferred. When he saw that special light in her eyes, he made up his mind.
"We will take this one," he said about a square cut one carat ring in a simple mounting, slipping that one back on Joan's finger.
"No, Sherlock, it's too expensive," Joan protested.
"It absolutely is not," Sherlock declared softly. And then, handing his credit card to the salesperson, "Take care of the business. This is the one."
He kissed Joan's hand where the diamond now rested and everyone in the shop applauded the obvious love between them.
They left the jewelry shop and hailed a taxi to go home to Brooklyn and Sherlock and Joan drew as close as possible in the darkened cab.
Sherlock kissed Joan on her lips tenderly and hugged her as he then whispered into her ear his feelings.
"I . . . want you to know how deeply I care for you, Joan. I cannot put this adequately into words at this point. My heart is laid wide open, luv. It's as if it's been flayed open and you have been put inside it."
Joan took Sherlock's hand in hers and kissed the back of it and then rubbed her cheek against its now familiar hairiness.
"I just want to go home now."
Sherlock kissed her forehead and they just sat clinging each other as they headed home.
When they got to their brownstone in Brooklyn and entered the house, Sherlock closed the front door behind them and helped her take off her coat and took her into his arms and then with trembling hands smoothed the windblown tendrils of hair back from her face and kissed her.
"Your lovely cheeks and hands are cold. I must make a fire and get you warm."
"I am quite cold. I think my period is nearly due. You know that I am always especially sensitive to cold at that time."
"Yes, I do know, luv. I'll make you some of that dandelion root tea that helps you with your feminine misery. Of course I am curious as to whether you will suffer to the same degree this time around, because we have been so very busy in the manner that is reputed to alleviate those symptoms."
Joan smiled at him. "We will see what happens, won't we? You are the one that deduces and comes to such interesting conclusions on all matters."
"Well, Joan, what of the theory that the increased congestion in those lovely woman's parts causes an increase in sexual need for her consort on the part of the female?"
Joan blushed but put her arms around Sherlock in confirmation of her answer to his query.
"So I guess that I have my answer. I guess that I should hurry and get the fire going. I wouldn't want to keep my woman waiting on that score."
Sherlock got the fire going and put water on for tea while Joan went to freshen up from the day.
"Sherlock, why don't you loosen up. I will be down in just a few minutes."
When Joan came back downstairs to Sherlock, she had undressed and was wearing just her warm woolen robe to protect her from the chill in the house. It was a dark jade green and complemented her coloring. She had let her hair down and as Sherlock looked at her, he was struck again by how beautiful she was.
Sherlock had begun to unbutton his shirt and as he stared at Joan, she was struck by his manly beauty. His blue green eyes were focused on her, his finely sculptured lips slightly parted, the slight scruff of beard that he wore proclaiming his maleness. Joan could already imagine the feel of his beard on her cheeks, neck, and her breasts and she shivered slightly in anticipation of the moment that was to come.
He came to her and caught her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa. Joan finished unbuttoning his shirt and removed it and then loosened his trousers to relieve the uncomfortable confinement of his flesh, so that she could rub her hands all over his torso. Sherlock sighed with relief as he enjoyed her taking the initiative in this intimate moment, catching her up in his arms and kissing her mouth as he held her fast.
"Oh, Joan . . . Joan, I believe that you are just as in need of me as I of you this evening."
Joan was touching him wherever his flesh was exposed, caressing him, crooning softly.
"I do need you, Sherlock. I love you so much. I want to tell you because I don't think you realize how much I do love you. I have held my feelings in for so long and now I just want to tell you all the time."
Sherlock took her hand where she was wearing his ring and he kissed it.
"Do you know what this ring means, Joan? It is not just a gift. It is meant to be a symbol. I am pledging you my troth, my eternal faithfulness. I will never touch another woman, Joan. For the first time in my life I am asking a woman to marry me. Will you accept me, Joan?"
"Yes, Sherlock, I accept you and I pledge you my troth. I will marry you."
Sherlock took Joan into his arms, drawing her on top of him and kissed her, first tenderly, and then the kiss deepened as his hands gripped her hips and squeezed them tightly as his kiss explored her mouth hungrily, taking her breath away.
"Sherlock . . . Sherlock," Joan murmured as she rubbed his chest, reveling in the sensation of his hard muscled body beneath hers, "I do love to touch you . . . feel your heart beating so fast when we are together like this."
Joan pulled the rest of his clothes off and tossed them on the floor so that she could touch him the way that she wanted to and Sherlock laughed delightedly as she had her way with him, putting her face into the lush growth of hair on his chest, delighting in the crisp woody scent of him. But then everything became very serious as he kissed her voraciously on her neck and breasts and upon her lips again, as she climbed onto him.
"Oh, Joan . . . I have wanted you all day long today."
They came together at that moment in a jolting perfection of intercourse that made them both cry out loud at the sensations produced in both of them. They were gone from that moment on, their parts in such sync with each other that they lost vision and were aware only of the joy of a consummation that was both physical and emotional as they came to climax together in spasm after spasm of ecstasy.
"Yes, Sherlock, yes!
"Joan . . . Joan, luv!" Sherlock snorted and gasped as he gave himself completely and saw stars.
Finally they just lay quietly together. Joan was still on Sherlock's chest as he drew the afghan from the sofa onto her so that she would not get unduly chilled, whispering the love words that Joan loved to hear from him, thanking her for loving him, for giving him herself, for understanding him as no one ever had in his whole life.
Later Sherlock picked her up in his arms to carry her off to bed.
"Umm, Sherlock, I am so tired. I just want to stay here."
"Darling, I am taking you upstairs to bed. Just let your man take care of you."
Sherlock put her to bed and lay down beside her and soon she was fast asleep. Sherlock knew that the excitement of the day as well as the approach of Joan's menses had taken its toll and that Joan needed extra rest. He was happy to lie beside her and listen to the sound of her softly breathing as she slept. He had seen her eyes roll back into her head when the acme surged over her so powerfully that her teeth chattered, and he could still hear her wailing his name as it happened for her there just before his own release came and he lost consciousness of anything except the brightness of the lights flashing in his brain as his pelvis went in spasm after spasm. The memory of it all brought tears to his eyes.
I cannot believe that she is mine . . . so completely. For the first time in my life I have someone who is truly mine, who loves me the way that I love her.
Joan stirred in his arms and murmured his name before settling back down and Sherlock hugged her close, pressing his body against hers.
"It's all right, luv, I'm here," he whispered into her ear.
In the middle of the night Joan got up to go to the bathroom and when she came back to bed, she had an announcement for him.
"I have my period, Sherlock."
"Right on time like the phases of the moon. The female body is truly one of the greatest mysteries of the universe," Sherlock said. "I hope that you do not suffer this month. I can't bear to see you in pain."
"Well, between your attentiveness to my libido and the teas you have been forcing into me this past week, perhaps it will not be as bad. I hope not, for your sake."
"Go back to sleep, luv. I will have your tea for you in the morning. Do you want Pamprin now?"
Joan smiled and shook her head. "I'm just cold now and the cramps are not too bad. Can you just help me keep warm for a while?"
"Of course, Joan. Be back in a minute. I will get the Pamprin for you at any rate."
Sherlock left the bedroom and came back with Pamprin, which Joan accepted as well as a pair of his colorful woolen socks and put them on Joan's feet before getting back into bed with her and wrapping his arms around her to warm her.
Joan smiled contentedly and drifted off to sleep in the cocoon of Sherlock's embrace. Sherlock lay awake for a long time reflecting on how very domesticated he had become and realizing that he enjoyed it. He hoped that Joan would have an easier time this month. It frightened him to see her in pain, no matter the reason.
Sherlock lay holding Joan, planning the next day so that things would not be too taxing for her. He would get up early and walk George before she wakened and thereafter he would have more of her special tea for her and massage her feet so as to relieve her discomfort. He wanted to take care of her this way. Knowing her so intimately was a privilege and an honor and he was determined to do what he could to ease any distress she was experiencing.
Sherlock fully understood how she gave herself so completely to him sexually and emotionally and wanted to show his appreciation for her generous giving of herself to him. He had never been with a woman who took care of him sexually as Joan did. Even Jamie Moriarty had never made herself available to the extent that Sherlock needed her for relief, instead keeping him strung out and begging for more, rationing out carefully the amount of relief she gave him, making sure that he was never completely sated. He knew that the next few days they would not have intercourse but Joan was always willing to cuddle with him and kiss and hug him and touch him intimately to relieve his sexual tension unless she was in pain. And she even let him hold her close when she was in pain as if he could assuage the pain by holding her close to him.
Joan appreciated Sherlock's sensitivity and attentiveness to her situation as a female, his seeking to understand it and accommodate it, and she loved him even more because of it. He would lie with her in bed embracing her even when he knew that she was not in position to give him sexual intercourse. He was always ready to massage her feet, bring her tea, or just sit in the bedroom by the window as a presence in her room.
After a couple of days of mild discomfort Joan became her normal self again, much to Sherlock's delight, as he anticipated their resuming their most intimate relations. They had successfully worked another case with Gregson and Marcus and were satisfied that it was not a long drawn out affair, but was solved within a twenty-four hour period.
When they came home that evening, Joan immediately set about making tea for them as Sherlock got a fire going in the fireplace. As she prepared s few snacks for them at the kitchen counter, Joan became aware of Sherlock standing behind her. She could feel his body heat as he stood close to her.
"Sherlock, what can I do for you, love?"
"I guess I just want to tell you how happy that I am that we are together. Working with you on the case today was incredible. The way that our minds work in sync just amazes me. You picked up on the fact that the doctor was not telling us the truth right away and that broke the case wide open. I love to watch your mind work when it is on its way to a conclusion. It's almost as beautiful as watching your hips move when you walk."
"You like to watch my hips move when I walk?"
"I love to watch your hips move when you walk, Joan."
Sherlock wrapped his arms around Joan's waist from behind her and kissed her on her neck, inhaling the fragrance of her hair as his lips found the soft skin of her neck again and again. He knew that they were near the time when they could come together again and Joan did as well. She wanted to take care of him.
Joan turned in his arms and at that moment their lips met in a kiss.
"Um, Joan, your period is nearly over. Do you know that your kisses taste different when you are menstruating? There is just a slight variation in the salinity of your saliva that is just another aspect of your femininity that makes it so interesting to me."
"You are just too smart, Sherlock. What am I going to do with you?"
"Just love me the way that you do," Sherlock said as his lips found hers in another kiss, tasting the inside of her mouth and claiming it as his own as all the while his hands roamed over her, describing in detail all the aspects of her femininity that he knew and loved so.
Joan stood inside his embrace and returned his kisses and accepted every one of them. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. She held on tightly to him as they pressed their bodies together to get closer if it were possible.
"I need you, Joan. I need to be with you. Just being around you and restraining myself is so difficult when I am in this kind of need."
"Sherlock . . . please . . . our tea will get cold. We can sit and enjoy the fire together."
"Yes, of course. Forgive me, Joan, but I am overwhelmed for the moment."
Sherlock released her and they took their tea and biscuits to the table in front of the sofa. He lay down in front of the fire on the thick soft rug that was there and Joan poured their tea and served it to him. Sherlock took the tea from her hands and set it aside and then drew her down onto the rug with him.
They lay there, whispering together, kissing tenderly and touching each other. Joan opened Sherlock's shirt so that she could touch him all over his chest there and then she unfastened his slacks, releasing him from their confinement and Sherlock simply thanked her over and over as she attended to him, caressing him tenderly, giving him what he needed to release the urgent pressure that he was experiencing in his flesh. Sherlock was flushed, writhing gently, his nostrils flaring, his clothes in disarray.
"Joan . . . Joan, I do love you. Do you know how much I love you?"
"I think so, but I love to hear you say it to me, baby."
Sherlock and Joan cuddled in front of the fire as they finally felt their passions calm so that they could pull themselves together and go to their bed and sleep.
Joan had calmed her Sherlock's fiery need and he did sleep for several hours before he wakened and bounded up out of their bed to begin the day early in the morning.
Sherlock relished the mental clarity he had when he was not under sexual pressure. It had amazed him when he realized that Joan's attending to his libido had elevated his powers of deduction beyond what they had ever been.
This morning Sherlock went up to spend time with his bees on the roof in quiet reflection and meditation, the soft hum of the hives soothing him as he contemplated his life. He wanted to marry Joan and he didn't want to delay this step any longer. He needed her to know his commitment to her. For the first time in his life he was in a relationship where he was constantly satisfied sexually. His very maleness was no longer the distraction it had been all of his adult life, because it was so focused on Joan that he could not even think about another woman.
While Joan slept, Sherlock decided to go out and walk George and pick up some of the bear claws from the bakery that he knew Joan fancied with their coffee. As he walked his dog, in the early morning air, he was so deep in concentration that he did not realize that he had nearly bumped into Jennifer Sayles, Joan's friend with whom he had had that infamous sexual encounter.
"Well, Sherlock, surprised to see you! Where have you been these past months?"
"Been busy, Jennifer. Joan . . . and I . . ."
The way he said 'Joan' told Jennifer that something had changed.
Jennifer stood back, staring provocatively at him.
"You and Joan? Like that? I'm sorry, Sherlock. I really am. You and Joan weren't . . . before?"
"No, but we are now. I am sorry that we but we are now involved, Jennifer. In the first instance when we met I hardly knew Joan, but in the second instance I was nurturing feelings for her that I had not expressed. That was unfair to you. I do wish you the best in your life, but I am committed to my relationship with Joan, Jennifer."
"Well, I must say that I am somewhat disappointed, but I have to accept that. I genuinely wish both of you the best as well. See you around, Sherlock."
They parted and Sherlock continued on his way to the bakery, picked up the pastry for Joan, and then made his way back to the brownstone with George in tow.
Sherlock thought about how much he had changed as he walked along toward the pastry shop. In the past he would have easily taken Jennifer up on her offer simply to relieve sexual tension. Now he couldn't think of a casual sexual tryst with anyone. His focus was on Joan and Joan only. He tried to remember the specifics of the encounters with Jennifer and he couldn't. He could only remember the taste of Joan's kisses, the warmth of Joan's embraces, the scent of Joan's excitement.
When he arrived home, Joan had gotten up and was standing in front of the kitchen counter wearing just her robe and lingerie as she made coffee for them. Her long hair was in two thick fat braids and the sight of her caused his heart to leap in his chest.
"Oh, Sherlock, you're back. And you picked up pastry. You must have read my mind."
George came to her and nudged her to pat him on his head which she did and then he went to lie down in his corner.
Sherlock just stood staring at Joan, transfixed by the feelings that were surging inside him.
"Is everything all right? You look . . . distracted . . . or?"
"Do I look as if I am in love with you, Joan?"
He came to Joan and caught her up in his arms and kissed her passionately and hugged her as if he would never let her go.
"Sherlock . . . do you need . . . because my period is over."
"Yes, I do need you, Joan. I realized this morning what Remington Steele meant when he told me that before he met his wife he would have meaningless sex to simply relieve his physical needs and the next morning would not even remember who or with whom he had been the night before. I ran into Jennifer Sayles this morning on my way to the bakery and she propositioned me. And for the life of me, I could not even remember why I ever had gone with her."
Joan's eyes filled as she heard his declaration. She couldn't speak. Her heart was so full.
"My sensual thoughts are all centered on you, Joan. I can't think about or even remember anyone else. It's you and only you, luv. Yes, please take care of me the way that you do."
Sherlock was kissing Joan all over her face and neck, pushing her robe away from her shoulders so that he could kiss her there. He attacked the braids that held her long hair fast, growling softly as he undid them. Catching her by her hips, he pulled her up against his flesh in no uncertain manner.
"Let's take our coffee and bear claws upstairs and eat it in bed, luv. Don't worry about the crumbs . . . or other mess that we will make. I promise to change the bed linen."
Sherlock picked up the French press coffee pot and Joan picked up their cups and the box of pastry and they made their way up the stairs, stopping to kiss each other halfway.
"Oh, my God, I love you, woman," Sherlock gasped.
"We should go to our bed, Sherlock," Joan murmured as they struggled to make their way up the stairs.
When they got to their room, they put the food down on the bedside table and stood for a long moment staring at each other and then Joan slipped out of her robe and lingerie and helped Sherlock remove his shirt and slacks as he bent to kiss her cheeks and neck, all the while whispering his feelings to her. There was no need to rush now. Joan poured coffee into Sherlock's cup and offered it to him as she took a bite of the bear claw.
"We don't need two cups." Sherlock offered his cup to Joan and she sipped some of the steaming brew from it before handing it back to Sherlock.
He kissed Joan, tasting the coffee mingled with cinnamon flavored pastry on her mouth as they got onto the bed. Then he shared another bite of bear claw with Joan and she gave him a sip of coffee as she sat propped against the pillows.
"Help me finish undressing, please, Joan," Sherlock begged.
"I am all thumbs here this morning. I'm getting crumbs everywhere."
"It's all right, baby. We were going to make a mess anyway."
They set the pastry and the cup of coffee aside for a moment and Joan helped him out of the rest of his things and they were ready to be what they were meant to be to each other. Sherlock took Joan into his arms, touching her in the masterful way that was his gift to her, bringing her along to the point of no return.
They came together in a powerful rocking rhythm, trying to take things slowly, to prolong the connection, but then Sherlock saw Joan trembling in ecstasy again in his arms and he was unable to hold back his release any longer and they came quickly to climax after their period of abstinence.
"Help me, Sherlock! Please!"
"Joan . . . Joan!"
They were left stunned and gasping together, finally contented to just lie close together afterward staring at each other as the bright morning sun streamed upon them through their bedroom windows.
"Now I am really hungry," Joan said finally, reaching for the other bear claw that Sherlock had brought her.
"I think you just like bear claws, luv. Just save me a little piece to drink with this coffee," he teased, smoothing her hair back from her face. "You know I love to watch you eat."
Joan laid her head on his left shoulder with its intricate network of tattoos, inhaling the clean scent of his skin that she loved so much, as she took a couple more bites of the pastry and then handed it to him.
"You take part of this one. You need some more carbs because I am going to require a bit more from you this morning, baby."
"Are you kidding me?" Sherlock laughed out loud as Joan popped the bit of pastry into his mouth as he drew her on top of him again.