A/N:okay so I wrote this based on a dream I had in which Joan and Sherlock were actually "dating" while last night's events happened. I know its a weird dream but I seriously couldn't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry if this is a little (or a lot) OoC, okay? this is my very first Elementary fanfiction.
enjoy...or not.

Also these are scenes taken from the show, not exactly the same scenes (I can't really remember all the dialogues) and the 'what if' situation. This is basically 'what if Joan and Sherlock were together'?. Simple.

Don't forget to review!

A/N: Spoilers if you haven't watched episode 1x19 "Snow Angels"

Joan walked around the kitchen, putting away water bottles and candles for the upcoming blizzard while Sherlock explained Ms. Hudson's situation. She listened carefully since he was engrossed making a cup of tea and speaking quickly.

Her mind suddenly stopped when he explained about how much he wanted to help Ms. Hudson and how she was a woman in need. Joan couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips, and his head snapped towards her, face adorned with a soft frown.

"What?" He asked her. She took a few steps towards him, so they were standing face to face. She reached out to touch his cheek tenderly; he didn't move away but instead leaned into her touch.

"It's really sweet that you're helping her."

"I'm just using trying to...be nice," he whispered "I think."

"Well I think you're being extremely nice," she told him, leaning in so her chest was pressed against his, and his hands disregarded the cup that had previously had his attention and travelled towards her waist.

"Thank you. I do my best" he whispered, slowly moving his head towards her, his lips closer and closer to hers until she closed the remaining gap between them and kissed , quickly wrapping her arms around his neck, dragging him more towards her body.

He pulled away, all of a sudden, and Joan pouted slightly at the lack of contact.

"What?"

"Mrs. Hudson is here," Sherlock told her, hands still firmly on her waist.

"So? She's busy."

"Yes...well she doesn't know that we, you know?"

She pulled away fully, crossing her arms against her chest and narrowing her eyes at him. "You didn't tell her. So who does she think I am?"

"My roommate," he answered quickly.

"Sherlock..."

"Which is not a lie. You are my roommate," he continued "the only difference is that I'm paying you and we're sleeping together."

"You are amazing," she told him, stepping away from him and shaking her head.

"Come on, don't be mad."

"I'm not," she told him, which was not far from the truth. She was disappointed, more than anything, but she knew better not to push him into leveling their relationship because it would not happen anytime soon. Though she thought that since they had been 'sleeping' together for over a month he would start to not introduce her as his roommate anymore.

"Watson," he called to her, but her back was still to him and she refused to turn around. He moved from his position against the kitchen counter and walked a few steps towards her until his chest was against her back and placed his arms around her. His head resting on her shoulder, she didn't pull away but leaned into his body. "Don't be mad."

"Okay."

"We will tell people when time is right, okay?"

"Sure," she answered automatically. She had lost count of how many times they'd had the same conversation. They always agreed that when time was right they would tell everybody. Or at least when he was ready.

He moved away, walking towards the living room, calling Ms. Hudson's attention and engaging her in an animated conversation.

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She push herself further into the covers. The voices downstairs could be heard from all around the house. Ms. Hudson and Davis were still arguing by the time the clock stroke midnight, they had been doing that for hours and Joan wondered if they would ever get tired of snapping at each other.

Her eyes were still shut when she heard the door opened slowly, and the empty side of her bed sinking in. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her like a hawk; she could smell his cologne and everything that was so entirely him.

"I thought you and your rocks and maps were very comfortable downstairs," she whispered, her eyes slowly opening. He was already under the covers when she finally focused on his face.

"Indeed we were," he answered "but now I'm cold. Would you please be kind enough to keep me warm, my dearest Watson."

She shook her head 'My dearest Watson' was only used when he needed something from her and he knew she wouldn't refuse, no matter how many times she had made up her mind into saying no.

Pushing the covers tightly around his body, he automatically moved closer to her. Though he had his own pillow he managed to lay his head into hers, snuggling closer to her warm body.

"Goodnight Watson," he whispered, closing his eyes once he was comfortable and warm.

"Goodnight Sherlock."

Sometime in the middle of the night he had turned onto his back and she had found comfort on his chest. His arms wrapped protectively around her body.

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.

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When she woke up her bed was empty and cold and Sherlock was nowhere to be found. She rolled over and noticed that the curtains of her bed had been opened. There was no sun but pure snow was falling outside. She sighed and dug herself deeper into the covers. Then the door opened quickly, and a fully dressed Sherlock walked in, throwing clothes onto her bed.

"Rise and shine, got to get going," he demanded. She covered her face with her hands and refused to move.

"There's a blizzard," she complained. He didn't listen. Merely pointed towards the bundle of clothes resting on top of her. "It's not exactly gonna happen with an audience."

"Should I mention I've seen you naked countless of times, Watson."

"No," she blushed slightly at his words, "but it doesn't mean I will start undressing in front of you."

"Fine," he turned his back to her, ignoring her grunt of protest and started to go on and on about the case.

Honestly she was more preoccupied about walking outside in the middle of a storm.

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.

.

They argued again, something about Sherlock not paying the phone bill and Joan was close to slapping him in the back of his head. That is, until Pam interrupted.

"How long have you two have been married?" She asked. Joan's head snapped towards the woman. Sherlock, on the other hand, still focused his attention outside

"We're not married," Joan told the woman.

"No, we're living together," Sherlock interrupted, "and having sexual intercourse as well"

"Sherlock!" Joan snapped, slapping his arm as hard as she could. He flinched in pain.

"What? You told me this morning I don't talk about us enough. I'm talking now."

"My God! You're insufferable," she complained.

"You still love me though, right?"

She turned her head towards the window without saying a word. She could feel Pam's smile and Sherlock's eyes in the back of her head.

Yes, she loved him, but she wasn't going to tell him that in front of a stranger.

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They walked into the house, cleaning their coats from the snow as they stepped in, to find the parlor impeccably clean, books perfectly arranged in the shelves. The house had never looked better.

Ms. Hudson explained how she had arranged everything together, while Joan watched for Sherlock's reaction. He had his arms at his side, hands turning into fits as they both looked around.
She was happy the house didn't look like a mess anymore. Sherlock was not sure whether to scream with rage or hug the woman for leaving his house perfectly clean.

Later that night, she was lying in her bed. Sherlock had managed to come along with her and not fall asleep on the couch. She smiled contentedly at how Ms. Hudson managed to do what she was dying to in such a short period of time.

"You have to admit that was she did was fantastic," Joan told him.

"She did quite a good job," he responded, a smile appearing on his handsome face.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Well if she did what you had to do that means we will have more time to do other things," he winked at her and she couldn't help but giggle. He leaned his body towards her, pushing her softly to lay on her back. His lips found hers in no time and she moaned when his hand travelled through her sides, finding the hem of her shirt and pulling it up leisurely, his hands warm on her skin.

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She walked into the parlor, eyes immediately searching for Sherlock. When she found him, sitting on a chair in front of a map, locks rearranged in his own way, she took a seat next to him, a warm cup of tea held tightly in her hand.

She frowned when she noticed something strange on top of the map, among the perfectly arranged locks.

"Why does Clyde have a tape on his back?" She asked him.

"It's a cross. He's an ambulance," he responded, staring at the map with a frown. "He's the ambulance."

He looked more frustrated than ever. His frown became deeper and deeper as he stared at whatever he had created and he constantly rubbed his face with his hands. She didn't want to intrude on his thoughts but curiosity was killing her.

"So the locks are checkpoints and road closures?"

She listened as he explained and each time he spoke his words sounded more and more frustrated. Joan got up slowly from her chair, leaving the empty cup of tea on the floor and walked towards him. He glared at her as she moved, until she was right in front of him. Sitting straight up in his chair, he gave her room to sit on his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"Why don't you take a break?" She suggested and he sighed heavily, "I know you want to solve this puzzle but you won't be able to do it when you're upset."

"I'm not upset," he refuted.

"Sherlock, I know you," she responded, "come on, take a break."

"Fine. What do you suggest we should do?"

"Well...I'm cold," she whispered, one of her hands slowly travelling underneath his sweater. He flinched at her cold hands but didn't pull away. "And you know what they say about two naked bodies..."

"Really?" He was slightly taken aback by her suggestion, he was usually the one the taking the first step, "now? Ms. Hudson is here."

"No, she's not. She went out," she leaned into him before he could say no or move away, dropping light kisses into his neck, content when she heard him sigh against her shoulder.

"Watson, are you sure you wanna do this now?" He moaned though his hands were now moving on their own, caressing her back slowly, pulling up her shirt, touching every bit of naked skin he could reach. The only response he received was a moan, and that was all he needed.
-o-
She snuggled closer into his naked chest, sighing and smiling contently. He caressed her back with soft motions and kissed her head as she wrapped a leg around his. He was distracted though, she could tell. There was no need for him to say a word but she knew his mind was elsewhere.

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?"Joan asked him. He didn't respond which told her he obviously wasn't paying attention at all. "Sherlock!"

"What?" he snapped, glaring at her. "What is it?"

"You're still thinking about the ambulance and the money, aren't you?"

He moved slightly, glaring at the map spread on the floor in the living room. Joan didn't protest when he got up, grabbed his pants from the floor and walked towards the disregarded map (and Clyde). She understood how focused he always got with his new cases, that's why she never complained, but this time she couldn't help but feel hurt at the lack of attention.

"I can't believe my boyfriend is more interested in his case than in me," she spoke. He stopped midway, turning around with a shock look on his face.

"What did you say?"

"Oh I'm sorry. I used the 'b' word. My bad," she told him, grabbing her shirt as she sat up on the couch. Sherlock just stared as she got dressed, perplexed.

"Please go on, I won't interrupt you. Your mind must be working on overload right now, right? And you seemed relaxed enough after having sex"

"Watson don't be mad," he pleaded with her. "I have to do this."

"I know." She whispered. One of the things she hated was arguing with him and right now that was the last thing she wanted, having spoken about this over and over again. "Just go. Do your job."

"I'll make it up to you," he told her, smiling briefly. She smiled back, nodding slowly.

It wasn't the first time he had told her that. She hoped this time it would be for real.

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.

.

They were both watching the woman behind the glass, waiting for her to make a move at some point. They fake riot was working perfectly and they were just waiting for her to do something to give her away. Sherlock's eyes focused briefly on Joan. She was completely focused on what was happening both outside and inside the room.

"Are you still upset?" he asked her. She turned to look at him, showing no emotions whatsoever. It was hard to read her, especially as they hadn't talked about what happened the previous night and she was acting as normal as usual. But he still thought she was hiding her emotions very well.

"About what happened last night?"

"No. I'm fine" she told him, turning back to look at the woman once more.

"Are you sure? Because you can tell me if you're upset."

"I'm not upset, Sherlock," she whispered, and she watched him as he looked down at his feet, nodding slowly. She reached out for him, caressing his arms softly "I'm not, okay? We're cool. I promise."

"I told you I will make it up to you, Watson…"

"You could start by calling me Joan" she told him. He shifted uncomfortably, playing with his fingers as she spoke. "Sherlock we've been together for a month, I think you should drop the formalities already."

She didn't want to ask him or force him to call her something else, but she was really getting tired of hearing him calling her Watson. She wasn't going to ask him to level their relationship but he could at least call her by her first name.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked her. She giggled and shook her head, despite her brain screaming for a yes.

"You do realize we're at the station, right?"

"Yes. I don't mind," he told her.

She couldn't help it; she couldn't control her desire so she accepted it. His lips immediately crushed against hers in a passionate kiss, she moaned which encourage him to continue the kiss further.
They broke apart shortly after, both breathing heavily.

"Give me time, okay?" He whispered, almost pleading with her.

"Okay..." She answered back.

And before she could say anything else, the woman in front of them was being dragged away by the suspect.

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When she walked into the parlor, phone in hand after speaking to Captain Gregson, Sherlock was busy with a paint brush in his hand, throwing paint on the floor. She took a sit on the couch, watching him as he entertained himself with his current 'work.

Ms. Hudson wave them goodbye, giving her proper 'thank yous' to both of them and before she moved towards the door she promised to be back on Tuesday. Joan frowned; staring questioningly at Sherlock, who obviously noticed her confusion but ignored her anyways.

"What's Tuesday?" she asked him.

"Ms. Hudson needs some cash while she figures out her next move," he explained "I've engaged her into clean the place on a weekly basis."

"Oh. That's very sweet of you," she told him. He looked down shyly, not used to being called 'sweet' very often.

"You should be nice more often, that's kind of sexy."

His head snapped towards her, and she shrugged casually at seeing his reaction; pure shock. He dropped the paint brush on the floor and took a seat next to her on the couch. His leg brushed hers and they stared at each other for a few minutes before his hand reached out for hers.

"You think I'm sexy?" he asked her. She giggled at his question.

"Are you seriously asking me this?"

"Yes."

Instead of saying anything at all, she moved towards him, pushing his hand aside to sit on his lap, with absolutely no space between them. Her hands travelled through his broad chest, with her legs at each side of his body she rocked slowly against him and smiled as he fought back a moan.

"I do believe we should take advantage of the fact that Ms. Hudson is gone," she whispered, moving her hands towards his shoulders, rocking one more time against him. She felt him shift underneath her, his hands now on her waist, squeezing slightly. "I can show you how sexy I think you are…"

"I like the way you think…Joan," he told her. She gave him a warm smile in response to hearing him use her name.

"You called me Joan, that's so…"

"Just don't break the moment, okay? You can call me sweet later," he responded, grabbing her hand, pulling her off the couch and leading her towards his room, closing the door with a loud thud.

THE END!

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