I've been sat on this work for ages, it's my first time writing for Johnlock, despite having been part of the fandom for ages
Please be kind with reviews, I tried to be as in character as possible
Joan stood in the cool night air, the wintery wind tickling her cheeks, the older she got the more she felt the cold these days. You'd think she'd be more adapted to changing temperatures these days, thanks to her time in the military, but somehow her tolerance had changed. She'd missed the duty, the responsibility, the thrill, being able to work alongside a team. She'd been trapped in a rut, trapped in a mundane life, no sense of meaning or identity. Then she met Sherlock, finding new thrills, new purpose and amusement by helping her solve cases. Chasing Sherlock around London on various cases at least kept her in shape and active. The beautiful detective, who was a mysterious as she was intelligent. Making new enemies and causing conflict no matter where she went, but she was always remembered. Skilled with the violin, not so much when it came to forming bonds and her impressions.
"So? When's the wedding?" Anderson joked, appearing out of nowhere. How a trained military medic like herself ended up sucked into Sherlock's world he had no idea. She could be doing so much better with her career, but she ended up her companion anyway. She followed Sherlock around like a lost puppy, never too far behind and always seen together. Never one without the other, they fit so well together it was rather frightening. Joan was the only person who seemed to keep Sherlock on a leash, forming a strong trust in one another. Their bond developed nearly overnight.
Joan blinked, snapping from her daze, the train of thought breaking instantly, her bluish yellow flecked eyes immediately peered in his direction. Luckily this hadn't been one of the more grizzly crime scenes she had become so used to witnessing. But then she'd seen all manner of horrors during her time as a medic. She hadn't really been focused on her surroundings, silently coaxing an explanation from him. Anderson was known for his quips, his smart ass nature, but this was the first time he had left her genuinely confused. Was someone at Scotland Yard getting engaged? Had someone proposed?
Anderson was taken aback by her genuine confusion to his joke, she couldn't be so naive that she hadn't noticed it herself. Joan was infamous for having a very active social life, as well as a dating life. But she had never managed to make a single of one of her exes stay. Somehow they always seemed to compete with her loyalty to Sherlock. The latter seemingly always kept everyone at a distance and only needed them when they were useful to her. Sherlock hated everyone, tolerating half of Scotland Yard purely for cases. Always finding ways to expose people and leak their darkest secrets, seemingly knowing everything about everyone before she even knew them. Picking them apart from the smallest details. She'd caused tension within Scotland Yard, everyone was on eggshells around her, never knowing what she'd say next. None of them trusted her or even attempted companionship. Most people would be horrified by this and run as far away as they could. But Joan stayed, she willingly put herself through hell just to befriend Sherlock. Tolerated all the behaviour, the experiments, the drama and the cases. "Oh come on..." he scoffed, for someone as smart as she was, surely she wasn't this clueless. "Working cases together? Roommates by the first case? In lesbian culture that's the first date already, you're rarely ever apart. The underlying sexual tension, the way she always preens to impress you..." he trailed off jokingly. Sherlock regarded Joan's opinion and feelings higher than anyone, whenever Joan complimented her or showed admiration for her, she was practically beaming.
Joan felt a sense of indignation, if they were men this would purely be seen as friendship. She'd isolated herself for so many years, preferring her own company and keeping a routine. She'd thought people would be happier that she had found solace in someone. And what the hell did he mean by sexual tension? The last time she checked she and Sherlock weren't tearing at each other's clothes like horny teenagers. If anything it was more heated gazes and underlying unspoken words. Sherlock got under everyone's skin, it was her strongest talent above all else, being roommates cohabitation was expected. As far as being impressed, Sherlock was the smartest person she had ever met. Since when did any of this imply that she and Sherlock were lovers? "We're just roommates" Joan huffed, wishing the conversation to be over.
Anderson gave her a knowing look, Sherlock had driven away more people than he could count on both hands. Anyone that had ever attempted to flirt with her had been rejected or completely ignored. Poor Morgan Hooper who worked as a specialist registrar had been crushing on Sherlock for months, and yet she remained disinterested. But around Joan she behaved like an entirely different person, less abrasive, more empathetic. "No roommate has ever tolerated Sherlock as long as you have" he retorted.
Nobody had ever tried to understand Sherlock, they all saw her as a freak, a sociopath. Incapable of feeling or even forming bonds with another person, they all jeered and mocked her. Joan was the first person who actually gave a shit about Sherlock and didn't treat her like a freak. Yes, she would admit Sherlock got under her skin, there were times she made Joan want to tear her hair out. Times she wanted to punch Sherlock in her perfect face. But she saw the vulnerability in Sherlock, the obliviousness, the childish streak, the younger sister that craved mischief and attention. "You don't know her like I do" she protested.
Anderson rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement "Now that was spoken like a true lesbian" he remarked. She was always defending Sherlock, always standing in her corner, even when Sherlock was being an arse. She was probably the only person that could put Sherlock in her place. And yet not only did Joan see a different side of the detective, she brought out a different side of her too.
Joan blushed, wishing the ground would swallow her whole just so she could escape this situation. Just how had her quiet night become one of invasiveness? She wished she had just gotten a taxi home or walked to the local pub. Mentally wishing Anderson would take a hint and kindly fuck off. She was so sick of being under speculation from everyone. It seemed everyone wanted to have a voice on her sexuality and dating life. She wouldn't be surprised if some of them were now curious if she had an attraction to them. She'd only disclosed her bisexuality to a few people she could trust, Lestrade, Sherlock and Mycroft. It came up naturally in conversation and she never made a big deal of it. Greg had been awkward but supportive, in a dad sort of way. Mycroft was the most mature, intelligent as always and supportive. Sherlock had been surprised but supportive. The Holmes siblings were far more mature than most, capable of understanding her identity without ever pressing the matter. So how the hell did Anderson know? Greg wasn't a tattletale.
Anderson rolled his eyes, of all the women to take her fancy, it had to be Sherlock. For all her personality was at times obnoxious, she was indeed an attractive woman, anyone could admit that. Her behaviour was very attached, she was at the hip with Sherlock. "Oh come on, you're like her loyal puppy, everyone has noticed how you act like her shadow" he pressed.
Joan wanted to rip out her hair, groaning audibly as she began to walk off, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingers in frustration. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, yell it from the rooftops, that she wasn't a lesbian. Somehow everyone forgot that she was also attracted to the male population. Trying to take some calming breaths unsuccessfully."Why does everyone think that I'm in love with Sherlock bloody Holmes" she groaned in frustration, even Mrs Hudson had it in her head. She felt like everywhere she went, everyone asked them the same bloody questions. The speculation, assumptions and jokes were never-ending. How the hell did Sherlock manage to block it all out?
Anderson tilted his head reflectively, counting on his fingers as if to further agitate her. He just wasn't going to let this one go was he? "She memorises all of your exes, you never get annoyed when she accurately assumes your personality and habits, you're also the only person she's ever actually apologised to. You've pretty much got her whipped and everyone knows it..." Anderson recounted. What person was that fixated on all the people Joan had ever dated? Who kept tabs on all the partners your roommate had ever had. Most people would have moved out by now and never looked back.
Joan glared back at him, wasn't it normal for female friends to gossip or pay attention to things? "We're friends" she snapped. She didn't like the idea that half of Scotland Yard were gossiping about her love life and supposed romance with her roommate. She had no idea what they assumed happened behind closed doors but her gut told her it was mostly perverse imaginations. Anderson said nothing, an amused shit eating grin formed on his face. Like that cat who had gotten the cream. She wanted nothing more than to remove it, but he said not a word, before turning tail and leaving her with her thoughts. Flashing her a knowing look. Joan merely stood in the street feeling flustered and frustrated.
Joan gave up smoking years ago, a habit she had during her time in the military that she eased off of due to stress. The taste was familiar but unpleasant, but she tolerated it for the sake of stress relief. Somehow she had found herself craving one and lit up as soon as Anderson was gone. The anger bubbling under her skin like fire, desperately needing to vent it somehow before she went insane. Siting on a bench under the stars, puffing away in silence, sulking about Anderson's words. The longer she pondered on it, the worse the craving got. She wouldn't be surprised if in the near future she got a joke letter about her marriage to Sherlock, or an anniversary card. Why was she so bothered by his words? It wasn't exactly a new form of gossip. Lestrade, Mycroft, random strangers, Moriarty and even Irene Adler, all of them thought they were a couple, all of them accused them of being in love. They all knew how precious she was to Sherlock, how important Sherlock was to her. The two had indefinite trust in one another, no matter how many fights or arguments they had, they always made up. They found comfort in each other. All of them assumed they were lesbians.
Just how the hell had this come her life? One moment she had a blissful live as an anonymous Londoner, nobody knew who she was. Now somehow she was the supposed girlfriend of a private detective. Before she was roommates with Sherlock, nobody ever assumed. She would never deny her identity, yes, she was openly bisexual. But she had a type the same as everyone else, so why did everyone assume Sherlock had to be hers? She heard new footsteps approaching, her heckles immediately raised, ready to give whoever it was an earful, she wasn't in a talkative mood.
The ravenette detective peered down at her roommate, Joan never smoked, for her to have opened a packet she had to be irate. Hoping that somehow she could formulate a way to improve her roommates mood once they retuned home, or on the journey there. "I heard Anderson spoke out of line, Lestrade's chewing into him as we speak" Sherlock explained.
Joan looked up, her eyes burning with anger, as Sherlock so delicately worded it he had indeed "If you mean he was a royal fucking twat, then yes" she scoffed. She should have punched him then and there. She didn't want to project her anger onto her roommate undeservedly, she needed time to cool off. Compared to Sherlock, she wore her heart on her sleeve and never had a hard time expressing herself.
Sherlock was not dissuaded by Joan's sharp tone, instead she merely reached out a gloved hand expectantly "May I?" Sherlock asked, nodding at the cigarette in her fingers. It had been a long night for both of them, if this helped Joan relieve some stress so be it. Joan rummaged in her pocket for the cigarettes, remembering Sherlock's addiction when she lacked the stimulation of cases. It felt strange that Sherlock was the one attempting to comfort her for a change, handing the detective one who took it appreciatively. Sherlock delicately lighting it before placing it between her soft pink lips, taking a long inhale. The sound of traffic and commuters in the distance, the city still ongoing despite the crime scene. The glow of the cigarette making her greenish blue eyes almost serpentine in the darkness.
Joan could practically hear the cogs ticking in Sherlock's brain, she was observing the best course of action. How to approach Jean and offer words of comfort. Sherlock exhaled a long cloud of smoke "It's an outdated stereotype, that as a bisexual you can have your pick of the litter, as they say" Sherlock remarked. Assuming that as a bisexual, she was immediately attracted to everyone around her. She had never questioned who Joan had been romantically involved with previously, it wasn't her business.
Joan snorted, somehow Sherlock's shortened observation summed it up in one. She was tired of the endless questions and jokes of who fit into her dating pool and who didn't. Sherlock had to be the most unusual person she'd ever met, let alone been a roommate with. She was a solitary creature by nature, and yet she was attached to Joan the most. She understood her better than anyone else ever had.
"I'm no expert on romance Joan, but you should have someone who brings out the best in you" Sherlock mused. Joan wore her heart on her sleeve and made others feel safe. Where others treated Sherlock with prickly comments and icy glances, wary of her nature. They were more relaxed, welcoming and friendly towards Joan. Joan deserved someone who was her better half, someone who she felt safe with and could be herself around.
Joan softened, nobody else saw this in her, nobody else ever got to share these tender moments with Sherlock and truly understand her. To see she wasn't the monster everyone else saw her as. When she wasn't fixated on a case, locked in her mind palace or enacting numerous experiments to the detriment of their flat. She had a sense of immaturity, childish innocence and occasional tenderness. She was just particular about who she showed this side of herself around. An amused smirk formed on Joan's lips, if anyone was to understand her feelings, it would be Sherlock "Everyone thinks you're gay" she reminded her.
Sherlock remained unfazed, as if Joan had just mentioned something regarding the weather or tonights dinner menu. She had a storm of assumptions around her, everyone thought they had her pinned down. A sociopath, a madwoman, an icy bitch, god knows she'd heard them all by now. While she admitted she'd never been good at socialising, forming bonds or dating, she was still human. She found solace in her work, in her routine, she liked to keep her brain stimulated, dating was an entirely different world. "The knowledge on Demisexuality is not yet common knowledge, only a mere one percent of individuals make up the asexual community. While I do solely date women, it's more than that" she replied. She was attracted to the female form, she was attracted to half the population, while remaining aware of the male population who were enticed by her. But even then her aspects for dating women were very difficult.
Joan's expression formed into confusion "Demi?" she asked. It seemed every time she managed to get Sherlock to open up, she remained as cryptic as ever. Sherlock never talked about her exes, she never talked about her ex partners, she never talked about her trysts. God knows she'd seen the attention Sherlock got and the numerous people who were drawn to her. But none of them lasted long or even caught her fancy. So why was Sherlock suddenly discussing the matter of sexual identity?
Sherlock sighed, taking another inhale of her cigarette "Demisexual, it's on the ace spectrum. I require longterm, emotional connection to another individual via bonding. Once I've formed a lasting bond, sexual and romantic intimacy may occur" she revealed. She'd never allowed herself to get close to someone enough to ever catch feelings, keeping herself at a distance. Half of her coworkers were male so they didn't fit the criteria. She knew her brother Mycroft worried about her ever finding a partner and someone who would accept her as she was. But she assured him she was fine on her own. But rather unexpectedly, she had found someone who just may be the person she had been looking for.
Joan raised her eyebrow, there were so many various communities in the queer community, being so much older, she wasn't as updated as she liked to be on the many sub varieties. Even she had struggled to find a name for herself when she was younger, until she did research. She felt bad that she was less educated on the matter, being a queer woman herself, she was just so out of touch with it these days. But if anyone was to be the accurate educator on this matter, it would be Sherlock "A demisexual lesbian" Joan reflected.
Sherlock nodded in approval, while she may not have been as intellectual as herself, Joan was no idiot. She wanted to understand, she could see the earnestness in her eyes, hear it in her tone. The reason why Sherlock never dated, was in the sea of faces on internet dating apps, everyone wanted one thing. The lust for sex, the desire to copulate, the buzz of brief intimacy. Something that never really caught Sherlock's interest, she didn't want to throw herself into the bed of a stranger. She could handle her own pleasure behind the closed door of her bedroom when needed. "You are the first person to accept me as I am Joan, I care for you a great deal. The closest friend I've ever made over the course of my life. Under the circumstances, you are an ideal romantic candidate" Sherlock soothed. Joan was someone she could not only entrust with her life, but her heart. A loyal friend, honourable, courageous and kind, it was hard not to find those qualities endearing. Joan was the first person she had come to truly trust and open up to, someone she would risk her life for.
Joan softened, that was as close as a compliment and heartfelt gesture as anyone could get out of Sherlock. Yes, she was always the first person to call Sherlock an idiot and call her out on her many imbecilic and dangerous antics. But she accepted Sherlock as she was, and she wouldn't have her any other way. Knowing that she was so special to Sherlock, it was hard not to be flattered, she'd always felt like an average person, but to Sherlock she was everything. She felt her cheeks flush from more than just the cold air "I'll take that as a compliment" she mumbled.
Sherlock smiled, she had detected the blush forming on Joan's cheeks but chose to remain silent on the matter; the moments she was so easily flustered were endearing. Joan was her better half, she cared for her option and perspective more than anyone. A doctor who had stumbled into her life and somehow turned it upside down in the best possible way. Her future was unclear, danger around every corner, but one thing she could ascertain was that Joan would be part of hers. "So, us being mistaken for lovers, I do not take offence to such matters" she hummed.
