Joanna's tolerance of Sherlock's extreme boredom cycles lasted as long as it took for him to start shooting up the walls. With her gun. That he had to have gotten by breaking into her part of the flat.
Her eyebrow twitched as she confiscated her weapon from the eccentric genius.
"Right, that's enough of that."
Hearing Sherlock moan about boredom, Joanna had a sudden wicked idea.
"I know that look. What are you planning?"
Sherlock developed a healthy set of paranoia whenever he saw certain expressions on his flat mate's face. Joanna was an excellent partner and one who could usually keep up with his deductions...but she put up with a lot of his eccentric habits. Like the violin at four in the morning, or the many random body parts in the fridge and cabinets.
While Sherlock had days of prolonged silences and extreme boredom, Joanna had days where she was rather mischievous and melancholy. The latter was rare, usually when she had a painful reminder of the past, but the former was something Sherlock both anticipated and dreaded.
He anticipated them, because every time it happened he saw past the mask Joanna had around her. She let her guard down and he saw bits and pieces of her true self.
He dreaded them, because there were a few times he got caught up in her pranks.
Joanna went into her room, and a few moments later something fell to the floor with a thud. It took Sherlock a few seconds to realize that something almost furry was wandering around on the floor of the flat. It was also growling.
Sherlock almost put his feet down, fascinated by the thing on the floor. However it immediately honed in on him when he tried.
He watched with open interest as Joanna picked whatever it was up and started petting it. It seemed to settle in her arms.
"What is that?" he asked, boredom definitely abated in favor of the thing.
"Pete."
"Pete?" repeated Sherlock incredulous.
She dropped 'Pete' into Sherlock's arms and it started growling again.
"You have to stroke the spine, and it has a taste for romance novels," she said by way of explanation.
It took Sherlock five minutes to figure out what the heck 'Pete' was, but his look of disbelief was totally worth it.
"A book?"
"Meet your new pet. It can't die, but I'm sure you'll have endless fun trying to figure out how Pete acts alive," she explained.
And with that, Sherlock's extreme boredom was gone. He was endlessly fascinated with Pete. How could a book be alive?
Of course giving the eccentric man his new 'pet' also came with it's own entertainment.
"John! John! It won't stop growling at me! And it keeps biting my feet when I try to get down!" said Sherlock. He was on the couch out of biting range of Pete.
Joanna snickered, before reaching into her bag and tossing a cheap dime store romance novel that was heavy on the romance and not on the plot.
Within seconds, Pete was more interested in completely shredding the book into paper fragments than harassing the genius on the couch.
"That thing is a menace."
"How is it my fault you don't bother to bribe Pete into liking you?" she said with an amused voice.
"You're doing this on purpose," Sherlock accused.
"No, if I were then I'd send another one to Mycroft as a gift without telling him what it is," said Joanna.
Sherlock opened his mouth, before an evil look came into his eyes.
"No Sherlock."
"I didn't say anything."
"We're not sending Mycroft a copy of the Monster Book of Monsters. Not until Christmas when we can hide it in the most awful Christmas sweater we can find that will drive him nuts if he wears it," said Joanna.
Sherlock grinned triumphantly. Yet again he had another reason to keep Joanna as a flat mate.
Only someone of the same evil mind as himself would come up with giving Mycroft an awful Christmas sweater to hide a gift that will give him headaches.
And if they were really lucky, Mummy would force Mycroft to wear it.
With the active mystery of Pete to keep the eccentric genius preoccupied between cases, peace was restored (as much as it could be with Sherlock around) in the flat.
A few weeks later...
"Why on earth are we going to a karoake bar? And why are you wearing that dress?"
Joanna had become bored, and it was during one of Sherlock's many mood swings. Thus the most random things tended to happen around them both.
In this case, Joanna looking her actual gender and dragging the bored genius to a bar.
"Because I intend to have fun and something close to a social life and I don't trust you alone in the flat with only Pete to occupy you," she said deadpan.
Sherlock immediately moved to hail a cab back to Baker street.
"I also happened to overhear Donovan talking to Anderson about a discreet club that doesn't have security cameras on certain days and setting a date for when Anderson's wife is out of town again."
Sherlock's interest was now piqued. In a manner of speaking.
"And I thought you would enjoy some obvious blackmail on the two of them, particularly Anderson to force him to leave the room more often. There's no way they'd believe you were actually there if they do spot you since their tiny brains wouldn't believe you would take an actual woman on a date to a bar outside your usual haunts on the same night they're there. If they did see you they'd dismiss it because of my presence at your table and the fact we talk without you insulting me to the point I'd leave in a huff," explained Joanna.
Sherlock's dark amusement was open on his face, as was his sudden desire to join her and pretend they were on a date solely to annoy Anderson and Donovan. Now he had to join her if only for the entertainment of seeing their faces when they realized the truth.
"It's times like this I wish you weren't a discreet lesbian. You're the most interesting female I've ever associated with," said Sherlock.
If Joanna had a drink in her hand already, she'd have choked on it from laughing.
"And I wish men didn't bore me to tears to the point I decided to bat for the same team," she replied. "Though you're the longest running room mate I've ever had."
Sherlock interested her, but she wasn't willing to risk their odd friendship for a possible romance. From what she could tell Sherlock was firmly asexual, or at the very least the idea of romantic entanglement didn't enter his radar other than minor blips.
Joanna would openly admit to having fun singing on stage, even if it took a while for the two idiots to show up an hour late.
As she expected, they completely dismissed Sherlock's presence if they even saw him because of the location. Anderson did briefly meet the consulting detective's eyes for a moment, but the second he saw the female (Joanna) amicably talking to him he completely disregarded the possibility it was Sherlock.
Donovan, however, was the only one to recognize "John" enough to suspect that the man next to her was Sherlock. But her mind couldn't accept the possibility of them being there.
Joanna either didn't notice or missed Donovan taking a picture for comparison.
It was Donovan's opening remark that alerted Joanna that she would be sharing the absolutely embarrassing video of Anderson and Donovan singing a duet to Anderson's wife and their colleagues in the Yard.
"So that's why you get along so well with the Freak. I didn't know that you were into crossdressing Dr. Watson," said Donovan snidely.
Absolute silence, or as close as you could get in London. Everyone turned to look at Watson, while Sherlock waited smugly for the response.
"Actually, Sergeant Donovan, I was not crossdressing in that bar you two happened to have your date in last week. I simply find that it's easier to avoid sexual harassment and annoying misunderstandings if I happened to look like a man in public."
The silence was twice as 'loud' now. Everyone's full attention was on Joanna and Sherlock.
"About the only thing most people would consider 'freakish' about me is the fact I'm an open lesbian," finished Joanna flatly in a frosty tone.
"Hold on... if you're a lesbian than that means..." started Lestrade who had been waiting for Sherlock and Watson to enter the building.
"Joanna simply hates having male flatmates who try to ask for a threesome when she brings her dates home," said Sherlock matter of fact. "Come along Joan, there's a case."
"Right you are Sherlock," said Joanna, not bothering to disguise her voice anymore.
It would be an hour before the Yard regained any equilibrium to actually do their job, which was about ten minutes after the duo left.
Donovan and Anderson soon discovered the price of irritating Joanna when Anderson's wife showed up with a copy of them singing and pictures of them at the bar looking far too handsy.
It wasn't like the department didn't know about the affair, but most generally didn't say anything.
Besides, most thought Anderson was a prick and Donovan was too annoying to deal with. She lacked a great deal of professionalism that was required to make Detective.
Like her most glaring bad habit of calling Sherlock a freak to his face in front of her superiors.
It was quite odd, having Joanna as a flatmate. After being "outed" as a woman, she started to slowly lose the layers that hid her gender.
Mostly because the public (which was quickly becoming aware of Sherlock's identity as a consulting detective thanks to Joanna's blog) were of the firm belief that they were a couple, which reduced the amount of harassment Joanna had to deal with.
Sherlock certainly didn't seem to care about acting as Joanna's "boyfriend", since the places she usually took him on 'dates' were often interesting enough to make him stay. That or her often colorful commentary.
The two either didn't care or notice Mycroft's constant observance. Or the fact that he was almost certainly reporting to "Mummy" about Sherlock possibly having a girlfriend.
Jim from IT. Or so he claimed. Sherlock thought he was gay and just stringing poor Molly along, but the moment she set eyes on the man her paranoia ramped up to a full thirteen.
She knew the man before her, but it wasn't as "Jim"...unless the bastard was trying to be cute about his 'identity'.
The mere fact he was observing Sherlock with such intensity made her skin crawl and her magic rise in a desire to rip him to shreds...and not in the proverbial sense either.
James Moriarty was a dangerous psychopath who could possibly be called a "consulting criminal". Thankfully he didn't recognize her as quickly as she had recognize him.
She had made a point to distance her 'original' persona from the one she displayed for the masses.
All of her anger, aggression and murderous intent over the crap she had to live with thanks to Dumbledore's stupidity hadn't vanished overnight. To quote a certain movie, she was a woman. She could hold a grudge forever if it so suited her.
Instead she channeled her darker side into a persona of it's own, so that it had a proper outlet when she didn't have something to ground her to everyday normal life.
It had a different appearance, a name, even a different personality.
She called her darker side "Black Iris", or to the dark underworld that hid itself in the light, the "Black Death". Because getting on her shit list was a sure fire way to end up dead and your organization in shambles.
Case in point, the Death Eaters and most of the Order of the Phoenix who had pissed her off at some point. It was because of her darker side that the unofficial Ministry was currently running things, while the 'original' simply thought it did, but really had no power at all.
Carefully cultivated plots was slowly but surely reducing the original corrupt Ministry into a joke until it dissolved into shambles of what it was.
Joanna kept a sharp, almost eagle-like gaze on Jim until he left. If he even suspected at who her other side was, he wouldn't hesitate to do something unpleasant.
As it was, simply knowing the fact he had taken an interest in her flatmate was enough for her to dig out her old wand and the purse she had made to contain a number of joke items...like Peruvian Darkness powder.
Nothing disoriented a sniper more than having a sudden curtain of darkness in an area blocking all sight. Most professionals would never shoot in such a scenario unless assured they'd hit their target.
Especially if they worked for Moriarty.