Joan gave up pounding on the brownstone's front door and took out her key, the one she had kept in reserve for such an occasion. Her hand shook as she removed the key and opened the door. Gregson had temporarily pulled both of them off all cases until, "they got their act together." Sherlock had not been seen or heard from in over a week.

Joan spent the better part of the day and evening texting and calling him but received no response. Technically, she and Sherlock were not on speaking terms but she knew him. If she texted him and said 'I need to speak to you," his response would be immediate. He didn't respond and she panicked.

She walked in and called his name. No answer. The light was on in the library and as she turned she saw him, sprawled out on the floor, flat on his face.

"No, no, no, no..." She rushed over to where he lay, fearing the worst.

Joan took him by the shoulders and gingerly turned him over. Startled out of a deep sleep, Sherlock flailed and grabbed at her, latching on to her coat. He blinked and tried to focus, "Watson?" He looked utterly confused.

"Thank god, you're okay." She closed her eyes in relief.

Still half asleep, he tried to make sense of the situation, "Huh? ...Watson, what's going on? ... Are you alright?" He let go of her coat and peered at her, examining her, "What's wrong?"

Joan put on her "I'm fine" face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was afraid you'd ..." She swallowed hard and shook her head to dispel the thought. "I've been calling and texting ... You never answered."

He looked confused, "What time is it?"

"Three in the morning ..." she looked apologetic.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Perhaps I should ask what day as well." He yawned. "I've not slept for three or four days. I must have crashed. ...you know how I get when I'm working," he gave tilt of the head to the work scattered around him.

She nodded, "I should let you get some rest then," and moved to get up.

He quickly stopped her movement with a question, "Why were you calling? Everything alright?"

She hesitated, "...I thought we could talk. This situation between us has gotten out of hand ... It doesn't matter now. We can talk some other time. Get some rest."

She moved again to get up and this time he stopped her by simply putting his hand on her arm and then just as quickly removing it. "Stay ... Please? We don't have to talk."

They sat immobile, eyes cast on where his hand had rested on her arm, unsure of what to do or say.

He broke the silence first. "I could use your help on this case. A private client, rather intriguing case of identity theft ... Well not theft so much as identity renting. Each victim always ends up the richer for the use of his ID ..." Sherlock handed her a file and saw the spark of interest ignite in her.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The morning sun filtering in through the front windows found both on the floor surrounded by spreadsheets, arguing the merits of their theories to each other.

"See..." Sherlock pointed to date entries "here, here and here, the same sum is deposited to three different victims by the other three victims. It's almost a pyramid scheme except the identities are shifted ..." He sensed her staring at him and stopped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Joan set her eyes back on to the spreadsheet. "I've just missed this. ..."

Sherlock, afraid of saying anything lest it start an argument, nodded his agreement and let her talk.

She took a moment and continued, looking at the paper in front of her as she spoke. "You know, I figured out why we are better together ... we fill in the gaps for each other. I see what you don't and vice versa. We fit like cogs in a great machine ..." Joan raised her head. Their eyes met and stayed fixed on each other until the intensity of it forced both of them to look away.

When she spoke again, her words were whispered. "You aren't just anybody to me, you know that, right?"

His hand found the edge of her sleeve and momentarily rested there, before moving to cover his hand with hers. His fingers fit between hers and she held on.

"We are both going to have to work at rebuilding trust ..." She spoke staring at his hand on hers. Joan flicked her eyes up to catch a glimpse of his, then both in embarrassment looked away.

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Understood ..."

They sat there for a minute or so more, holding on in silence, not quite ready to break the moment.

Joan suddenly pulled her hand out from under his, "Sherlock, look at this." She grabbed the spreadsheet she had been staring at. "Look at these bank entries."

The excitement in her voice pulled him in and he scanned the column. "Good job Watson! I may have to pay you a consultant's fee for that." He happily took the paper and stood. "Come, take a look at the records on the desk while I make us breakfast. I don't remember the last time I ate."

She scrambled up and followed, "If you make me an omelet, I'll forego the consultant's fee."

He called out over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs, "Done. Remind me not to let you negotiate fee agreements."