Title: Solved

Author: Annaliesegrace

Rating: G

Summary: Based on a prompt from the Elementary Fans Facebook page: NYC is in the middle of a blackout, Holmes and Watson are stuck in the brownstone.

AN: This was written on the fly and came out…more emotional than I expected. *shrug* the muse goes where she goes. Mistakes are mine, blah blah. Hilariously, "Details" is on tonight, which I could seriously watch the first scene a million times and never get bored ("What is your damage!").

Big thanks to Kasey, who put out the prompt, it is a good one!

Even in sleep Joan was aware that something was off. She woke with a start, momentarily confused by the pitch black room. It took mere seconds for her to realize why…the power was out. The usual ambient sound of electricity was eerily absent, and the lights from outside that usually filtered through her gauze curtains was not there. And a city that was rarely quiet even for a brief second was absolutely silent.

"Great," she muttered.

As she was deciding whether to go back to sleep or attempt to find candles or a flashlight or something, the bedroom door was opened, revealing Sherlock holding a candle; his face was oddly illuminated by the flickering coming from it.

"The power is out."

"I noticed," she muttered and slumped back onto the pillows, but kept an eye on Sherlock, who continued to stand in her doorway. "You know, I could have been sleeping."

"But you were not."

"But I could have been."

His face screwed up just slightly. "I fail to see how this is a productive conversation, Watson. Whether or not you could have been asleep is irrelevant, as you were clearly awake."

She sighed. "Whatever."

"Given the cold temperatures that are expected tonight, the fact that the brownstone is poorly insulated at best, and that there are approximately six hours until daybreak, I have started a fire in the lounge. I would recommend that you retire there to keep warm." Before she could respond he turned on one heel and disappeared down the stairs.

"Ok, then," she grumbled to herself and pulled the duvet off the bed, lumbering tiredly down the stairs behind him.

Once she got to the living room Sherlock dropped himself into one of the armchairs, pulling a blanket over himself, thereby leaving her his usual sleeping location – the couch.

She curled into the corner, pulling her legs underneath her and covered herself with the duvet. Then she rested her head against the back of the couch and stared at the fire. Joan had to admit it was quite warm and comfortable.

They sat in comfortable silence, each watching the fire cackle. As she started to drift back off to sleep, his voice pulled her back.

"According to the scanner it seems all of Manhattan and southern Long Island are out, some kind of transformer issue. Hopefully it will not last nearly as long as the last major outage, which was in 2003 and affected forty-five million people in eight states and lasted two days. The whole thing was caused by, of all things, a software glitch that prevented workers from realizing there was a problem in the system-"

She hummed absently that she was somewhat listening and after a minute he stopped talking, either because he got to the end of the tale or had realized she'd stopped listening, Joan would bet it was the former.

Now she let her eyes drift closed again, but didn't fall asleep, instead content to soak in the warmth of the fire and Sherlock's companionship – silent as it was now.

Under the silence she sensed there was something he was holding back, had for several days. At first she attributed it to the fact they were only four weeks out from their encounter with Moriarity and thought he was still working through the utter betrayal by someone he had loved. But as they days wore on, Joan was convinced it was something else, but couldn't quite work out what that something was.

Suddenly he was shifting in the chair and she cracked open an eye, surprised to find him staring at her intently. Then she knew…whatever it was, it had to do with her. So she stared back at him, almost daring him to spit out whatever was on his mind.

He twitched again, breaking eye contact.

"Sherlock-"

The he stood and moved toward the fire. "I think…I think I have solved you, Watson."

"Me?" she asked.

"Yes. Remember the conversation we had in Bell's apartment, the one where one day I said I would solve the mystery of why I am better with you?" She nodded. "I solved it. It took…Ire-Moriarity to do it, so maybe one good thing came of that. Even when I was at my lowest, Watson, you were there. You remained steadfast, constant in your support of me, no matter how poorly I may have treated you during that time. It was you, Watson, that deduced that Moriarity's feelings toward me could be used to bring her down. You…looked out for me, cared for me." He paused and looked at her. "In my entire life I have not had one person do that. My father found me an annoyance, especially after my mother died, and Irene…well, we know how that turned out. My point, dear Watson, is that I am better because you ground me. You are my link to humanity…you are my humanity. And the only real connection I have or need." Finally he ran out of steam and walked over, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, staring at her again. "You are the better part of me."

"Sherlock," she whispered, in awe of the words he had said to her.

"You are not required to respond. I just…I thought you should know." Then in a quieter voice, "I solved you."

For a moment she just gaped at him, wondering what had inspired the sudden outburst of…emotion. Was it the near-darkness, the silence, or had he simply decided now was the arbitrary time? She pushed off the blanket and scooted toward him, placing a warm hand on his exposed forearm.

"I take back what I said before. That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I have no…evidence so to speak, it is not…empirical. I cannot test it, and yet…I know. It is a disconcerting feeling for me."

That explained his odd behavior of late. "I know," she said and moved closer.

"I don't… I do not know what I would do without you now, Watson." His face scrunched up as he looked at her, seemingly unconcerned with her proximity. "Odd that not so long ago really, I was counting the days until your departure."

Slowly she repositioned herself so she was facing the fire and leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling him briefly tense then relax.

"I am certainly glad you did not go."

"Me too, Sherlock. Me too."

END

Side Note: I had the pleasure of being part of that lovely blackout in 2003, and let me tell you...it sucked and I will forever remember where I was when the power went out.