TITLE: Whisper
AUTHOR: do you see the stars
RATING: T
SUMMARY: When she sleeps, she still smells the acrid mixture of vodka, blood and gunpowder.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Elementary.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read and review.

When she sleeps, she still smells the acrid mixture of vodka, blood and gunpowder. Still hears the shot ring out. Still watches the man she'd desperately tried to save bleed out before her, helpless to save him.

And then she wakes in a cold sweat, her heart pounding as she desperately takes in the sight of her bedroom of her new apartment and resists the urge to pick up the phone to call Sherlock. He's got enough problems of his own, he doesn't need hers as well.

Then she gets ready for her day and tries to tell herself she's fine. That she can handle this. That the loud noises only startle her and that they don't transport her completely back to that dark lot with Mycroft and the members of Le Milieu standing around, guns drawn, with her in the middle. And that she doesn't remember that with three simple words, a man she'd trusted intimately had ordered the execution of them all and shattered her belief in him.

Gregson won't allow her near anything remotely triggering yet. Marcus backs him up on it.

"Miss Watson, you've been through quite an ordeal. Give it time."

"Joan, let yourself heal. Somehow, we'll manage without you."

She knows that their advice is sound. She's given the same advice to patients numerous times, but somehow, when it's directed at her, she finds herself seething.

When it's time to go back to her apartment, she thinks of Sherlock and Clyde and the Brownstone. And there's a pang of loss. She thinks of Yorkshire Pudding and tea. And of honey and bees. And of the odd explosion. And she has to fight back a tear. She was only trying to do what was best for both of them. She hadn't expected Sherlock to go away.

When she gets back to her apartment, she locks the door behind her and walks to the bathroom. She strips off her clothes and takes a good look at herself in the full body mirror. She still has the love bite from her last tryst with Mycroft. She runs a finger over it as a tear finally escapes. She wasn't sure why she'd slept with him the second time. He'd seemed like a kindred spirit. In a way, he was. But, he still wasn't someone she should have trusted with her heart. And he'd proved it.

She swallows the lump in her throat and turns the shower on hot and tries to scrub all of it away. All of the pain. All of the memories. All of the feelings.

It doesn't work. It never does but she leaves the shower clean, at least physically and changes into her pajamas and climbs into bed, hoping for a better day tomorrow.