A/N: Hey everyone. Thank you for your support throughout this story, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! This is the final chapter of this story, which will hopefully tie up all loose ends. I am still uncertain about a sequel, I have some ideas and will try to figure something out. I'm not sure whether to write a Joan/Sherlock or a J/S/baby fic, but I'll give it some thought, and please let me know if you have any preferences.

As always, thanks so much for your patience, reading and reviews, it's meant a great deal.

I hope you enjoy the final chapter!

- HQ21

Sherlock remained in the hospital for just over a week, gaining strength and acerbity by the day, as Watson remained, as always, by his side. She left the hospital several times during the week to assist the police with their investigation and sit in on some of the interviews with the victims, some of whom were currently at the precinct being reunited with their families. Her kind presence and approach seemed to relax the girls who were interviewed who, with her support, finally began to find the voices that Leo and his cronies had suppressed for so long. Joan also spent some time at the brownstone and her own apartment, but this time was very limited. Sherlock was growing increasingly impatient at his prolonged stay at the hospital, which he complained was 'ridiculously drawn-out, like some barbaric form of medieval torture'. The move from the ICU to a ward on the third day raised his spirits slightly, but after having spent an hour or so making various deductions about the patients and staff, he soon grew bored once more. Had Joan not been by his side as frequently as she was, she did not doubt that the 'bear-like' nurse he often complained of would have incurred the full force of his frustration. And Joan knew better than anyone how difficult Sherlock could be when he was bored. Despite having solved three cold cases and making significant headway on four others (the files of which Joan pleaded for from Gregson), he was still restless. However, on the fifth day of his stay he befriended a patient who was moved onto his ward from the ICU following a particularly nasty motorbike accident. Although Joan could not imagine what Sherlock spoke about with the burly, leather-clad twenty-two year old, she was simply glad that it seemed to ease him through the final two days of his stay. Joan found the nature of his newfound friendship with 'Brock' to be at the forefront of her mind as she strolled calmly down the corridor and towards Sherlock's room on the morning of his release. But Joan's calm and pleasant mood was knocked the moment she reached the swing-doors to Sherlock's ward.

"Miss Watson" called the voice of Dr Lucas, the senior physician who had been tending to Sherlock. Joan turned on the spot and looked towards him with a slightly confused expression, having noticed the tired weariness in his tone almost instantly.

"What has he done?" she asked in a similarly weary tone, her wide and alert eyes meeting the doctor's kind ones as he looked down at her imploringly. "Reorganised the pharmacy? Insulted a wealthy patient? Tried to perform an operation?"

"He's on the children's ward" the doctor stated, speaking the words quickly as if he was hoping they would ease the image he had of Mr Holmes influencing young, sick children. He was wrong. It did not. Joan's eyes widened at this comment and she walked quickly down the corridor towards the elevator with Dr Lucas, where they travelled to the children's ward.

"How did he get on to the children's ward?" she asked, turning towards the doctor as she spoke. "He's not a medical professional or a relative, and I'm guessing he didn't sneak in as a patient-" The doctor sighed lightly at Joan's words.

"Miss Watson, I have known your-" he began, pausing mid-sentence as he thought of a word to use. Despite having seen Joan lying beside Sherlock on a couple of occasions, or engaged in private conversation which seemed personal, he was not certain of the precise nature of their relationship. And the more time he spent with them both, the more he began to believe that nor were they. "- your associate for just under a week now" he stated as the elevator pinged and the doors opened on the correct floor. "Nothing surprises me." Joan sighed in response and stepped out of the elevator, walking briskly down the corridor and towards the double-doors which led to the children's ward.

As soon as Joan passed through the double doors and stepped towards the reception desk she could hear Sherlock's voice from a room to the right. She turned and exchanged a few words with the puzzled receptionist and nurse behind the desk, who nodded calmly and smiled in response. Their reactions reassured Joan slightly, and she found herself relaxing slightly as she gently rapped on the door to the private room and opened it a little. From the few inches she opened she could see Sherlock sitting on a plastic chair beside a bed, his hands in his lap and his eyes wide and attentive as he turned towards her and nodded. Joan opened the door further, glancing at the bed as she stepped into the room. In the centre of the bed was a little boy aged about six or seven, who appeared to have a broken leg, fractured wrist and extensive bruising to his neck and chest. Joan ran her medical eyes over him for a few moments as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, her experience and her instincts telling her that the child in question had recently been involved in quite a nasty car accident. Joan took a few steps towards the bed, watching as the small boy looked up to her with wide, bright blue eyes. As Joan reached the edge of the bed she noticed something moving on his lap, and found herself smiling as she saw the familiar shelled figure of Clyde, who was munching on some lettuce quite contently.

"Watson" Sherlock stated, drawing Joan from her thoughts, and she turned towards him with interest. "This is Archie. Archie, this is Watson."

"Hello" he said quietly, his uninjured hand stroking Clyde, who was running out of lettuce and attempting to chew on some of the young boy's bedding. Sherlock noticed this immediately, and eased himself out of his seat and gently removed the sheet from Clyde's mouth, offering him a final piece of lettuce as a substitute, which the grateful tortoise accepted.

"Hi" Joan returned, causing Archie to look up at her which his bright eyes. Archie had sandy coloured hair and intelligent eyes, and his complexion was very pale, which made his purpling bruises seem even darker. "Has my friend been bothering you?" she asked, her voice a low, jesting whisper. Archie attempted a small smile and shook his head in response, turning towards Sherlock then back to Joan.

"Sherlock showed me his tortoise" he stated, his voice becoming slightly louder and more confident in Joan's presence. He ran his hand once more over Clyde's back as the animal continued to eat.

"I hope he's been behaving himself" Joan stated, smiling as she spoke.

"Yes" Archie replied instantly, looking back up towards Joan. "He has had four pieces of lettuce and has been very still."

"I didn't mean the tortoise" Joan responded, causing Archie to giggle slightly and turn towards Sherlock.

"She's funny" he said, and Sherlock pressed his lips together and nodded in response, exhaling as he did so.

"Yes. Watson is quite the comedienne" Sherlock stated, rising from his seat as he spoke, before turning towards Joan. "One of her many talents." Joan smiled in response, before turning back towards Archie, who seemed to have relaxed more in the past couple of minutes. Sherlock turned from Joan and towards Archie, who was still stroking Clyde as he munched his way through the lettuce leaf. "Well, Archie, Watson and I must be off" he stated, pausing for a few seconds and drumming his fingers on his thigh as the young child looked up at him. "Will you be alright?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

"Yeah" Archie said, placing one hand on Clyde's back and the other beneath him, just as Sherlock had shown him earlier.

"Why don't you keep an eye on him for me?" Sherlock stated before Archie had picked the creature up. Archie's eyes widened and a curious expression played on his features as he looked up towards Sherlock. "Watson and I have a rather busy few days ahead of us, and I fear we would not be able to bestow as much attention and care upon Clyde as he deserves" he stated, gesturing with his hands slightly as he spoke. "But I believe you could be just the man for the job" he stated, punctuating his statement with a series of nods. Archie smiled slightly in response, nodding rapidly as he placed his hands protectively around the small creature, who had abandoned the lettuce and was beginning to explore his stomach. "I will be back in a couple of days to collect him, if that is acceptable?"

"Yes" Archie responded, looking up at Sherlock as he spoke. "Thank you" he added quietly. Sherlock nodded, turning on the spot and heading towards the door, picking up his bag from the foot of Archie's bed as he did so. Joan watched Archie and Clyde, mesmerised and confused by whatever had just happened, and only turned when she heard the door click open and Sherlock's voice calling her name.

"Watson" he called, and Joan blinked herself from her thoughts and turned her attention back to Archie.

"Goodbye, Archie" she said warmly.

"Bye bye Watson" he replied, looking up from Clyde for a moment, before giving the creature his complete attention once more. Joan turned and walked past Sherlock as he held the door open for her. She walked past the reception desk and pushed the double doors before her open, holding one open for Sherlock, who followed her silently down the corridor and towards the elevator. It was not until the elevator doors had closed behind them and they began to travel down to the ground floor that Sherlock answered the question that had been playing on Joan's mind.

"Archie was involved in a car accident three days ago" he stated simply, his tone low and even. "His father was driving and his mother was in the passenger seat. They both died on impact." Joan's eyes lowered as she processed these words, her heart sinking for the poor child a few floors above. Sherlock was silent for a few moments, and so she used the opportunity to pose a question.

"How did you find out about the car accident?" she asked in a low, respectful tone. Sherlock continued to stare forward as he listened to her words, his wide eyes darting curiously across the closed doors before him.

"His mother was brought onto my ward yesterday. His father died at the scene but her injuries did not seem quite as serious" he stated, his eyes adopting a wider, glassy expression as he spoke.

"What happened?" Joan asked gently. Sherlock blinked once and continued to stare forward.

"Internal bleeding" he replied simply. "Followed by a massive heart attack" he added, nodding slightly as he spoke, before turning towards Joan. "Archie was with her when she died. They brought him down to visit her." Joan swallowed and nodded as she listened, the image of the frightened little boy watching medics try in vain to save his mother causing her to feel tense and unsettled. As she considered his words, she found her own mind filling in the blanks.

"And you helped Archie" she stated, watching as Sherlock's gaze faltered for a moment. "The medics would have been fighting to save his mother, so you-"

"It was quite clear that his mother had sustained injuries from which she could not possibly survive" Sherlock stated simply, his voice low and clear. "I closed the blue curtain by her bed and picked up the child, sitting him on one of the vacant beds at the opposite end of the room. He was wearing a shirt with a dinosaur on it. A cartoon one which bears no resemblance whatsoever to any real type of dinosaur" he stated, sighing slightly as he spoke. "He also had a figure of a tyrannosaurus rex" he added, remembering how tightly Archie had clutched the toy as he watched the doctors working on his mother. "So I introduced him to Clyde, and explained to him the relationship between dinosaurs and tortoises" he stated, turning back towards Joan as he spoke. "As his mother was dying just a few feet away you can imagine how difficult it was for him to focus, but between myself and one of the nurses we managed to calm him measurably" he continued, nodding as he spoke. "Of course, after the doctor came over and explained that his mother had…"

"He broke down?" Joan asked, wishing to spare her partner some of the painful memories. Sherlock nodded in response.

"Didn't let go of Clyde, though" he stated, smiling and exhaling as he spoke. "He seems rather fond of him. I hope he will be a suitable companion until the young boy's aunt arrives from Arizona on Thursday." Joan nodded in response, imagining the events Sherlock had described as the lift slowed. There was something missing, something significant. And Joan felt it was something Sherlock was omitting from the story.

"What caused the car crash?" she asked tentatively, as the elevator came to a halt. Sherlock turned towards her once more, his fingers drumming on his thigh as he exhaled. He did not really doubt that she would pose the question which would go right to the heart of the matter.

"A twenty-eight year old city worker on heroin during rush hour" he stated simply as the elevator pinged and the doors opened before them. Sherlock stepped out of the elevator and walked briskly through the corridor and towards the main doors, passing through them and heading towards the car park. Joan remained by his side and did not speak for some time, knowing that her partner would not wish to discuss the matter. But as he got into her car and they drove a few miles, the traffic lights stilling them for a few minutes, Joan turned towards her partner.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and tentative.

"Quite" Sherlock responded, blinking a couple of times before turning towards his partner. "Forgive my melancholy, Watson" he began, watching as Joan turned slowly towards him. The lights turned green and she drove forward, the movement of the car almost soothing to them both. "Seeing and hearing about such incidences often makes me think of what could have happened, what I might have-"

"But you didn't" she returned quickly. "You went to rehab, you got clean, and you moved forward."

"Not on my own I did not" he responded instantly, his eyes drifting curiously across the sea of traffic in front of them. "More credit to my recovery is due to my father and to you than to myself."

"That's not true" Joan returned immediately. "You had help, sure. But the main person responsible for and accountable for your recovery is you" she stated, watching as he drummed his fingers on his thighs. "Your father and I weren't with you in London for almost a year, and you stayed clean, didn't you?"

"Yes" he returned, exhaling as he spoke. "Even so, at one point in my life there were more similarities than differences between myself and the man who orphaned that child." Joan considered this for a moment, knowing that there was little she could say that would convince her partner otherwise, or make him aware of how hard he was being on himself. But there was something she could do. Joan drove into a different lane and turned right, driving in a different direction from the brownstone, causing Sherlock to narrow his eyes in confusion and turn towards her. As he glanced at the street signs and buildings before him he realised where Joan was taking him.

"Watson?" he asked.

"We'll only be a few minutes" she stated simply. "There's something I want you to see." Sherlock leaned back in his seat and clasped his hands in his lap, watching as Joan drove the familiar route to the precinct.

Joan pulled up outside the precinct, and she and Sherlock headed inside to the busy and bustling building. It did not take long for Sherlock to realise what it was that Joan had been referring to.

The precinct was bustling, not just with officers, but with nervous young women and overwhelmed families. Sherlock remained perfectly still as he watched the parents, aunts, uncles, sisters, boyfriends of the six victims who had been discharged from hospital, as they took a few tentative steps towards their loved ones, their bodies trembling and their eyes brimming with tears as they embraced. The emotional atmosphere within the precinct was almost palpable, and even the approaching figures of Gregson and Bell seemed to be affected.

"Holmes, glad you could make it" Bell stated pleasantly, exchanging curt nods with the consulting detective.

"It's good to see ya, Sherlock" Gregson stated, extending a hand to Sherlock, who shook it promptly. "Six of the fourteen victims have been interviewed and are currently being reunited with their families" he added, despite being certain that Sherlock had already worked that out for himself. Sherlock nodded in understanding and did not issue a scathingly sarcastic remark, which slightly surprised Gregson, who watched as Sherlock looked around the room and the reunions occurring before him.

"The other eight victims are still in the hospital, and their families are either with them or on their way" Bell stated, and Sherlock nodded once more. "And because of the information we obtained from the victims, and one young lady in particular, we've made five arrests on charges relating to kidnapping and human trafficking."

"I am very glad to hear it" Sherlock stated, speaking for the first time since his arrival in the precinct. Joan watched as her partner engaged in conversation with Gregson and Bell, who were conveying additional information regarding the arrests which she had already been apprised of. She turned her head from the detectives and glanced across the room, watching as the families reunited, and finding herself experiencing a moment of peace and clarity that she had not felt in a very long time. As she considered this, some subtle movement from a corner of the precinct drew her attention from her thoughts, and towards the tall figure of Catherine Adams, who was standing by a desk and talking to a police officer, whilst casting glances at the young woman across the room who Joan recognised instantly.

"Captain" Joan stated, causing Gregson to pause his conversation with the other and turn towards her. "Is that Penny Clarke?" she asked, nodding towards the young woman who Catherine was watching, who she felt certain she recognised from the photographs on the agent's laptop.

"Yeah" Gregson returned simply. "She's one strong kid. She gave us a lot of information to go on. In fact, it's primarily due to the evidence and testimony that she provided us with that we've been able to secure so many arrests." Joan nodded in response.

"Has Catherine spoken to Penny?" she asked.

"No" Gregson returned immediately. "I spoke to Penny's parents personally, and explained who she is, and they were happy to introduce Penny to her. Even more so when I explained that she played an integral role in locating the victims."

"Without blowing her cover, I hope" Sherlock stated.

"Of course" Gregson returned, slightly annoyed by Sherlock's inference. "The parents say that Penny knows she is adopted and they are more than happy for her to meet Catherine."

"But she doesn't want to?" Joan asked.

"She doesn't know she's here" Gregson returned in a low voice, as Joan looked up at him in confusion. "From my conversations with Catherine, it seems that she feels guilty for putting her kid up for adoption. My guess is she wants to meet her but doesn't think she deserves to." Joan listened for a few moments, nodded and walked away from the group and towards Catherine. Catherine smiled a small smile at Joan and handed a file to the police officer by her side, who promptly departed.

"Miss Watson" she greeted pleasantly. "So lovely to see you again."

"You too" she replied, looking from Catherine to her daughter, who was speaking to her parents. "Although if I had to take a guess, I'd say I'm probably not the person in this room you'd like to talk to the most" she stated tentatively, watching as a guilty and nervous expression played on Catherine's usually reserved features.

"It's complicated" she returned simply.

"I know" Joan returned. "Believe me, I do. But you know what else I know?" she asked, watching as Catherine looked up to her, an expectant and attentive expression in her eyes. "You saved her life. Twice. Once when you gave her up for adoption, and once more just a week ago" she stated, watching as Catherine evaded her gaze and looked at Penny, before looking at Joan once more. "You gave Penny the opportunity to have a safer life than you felt able to provide. And you can see how loved she is" Joan stated, her voice low and gentle. "I know you feel guilty, and perhaps even unworthy of meeting her" she stated, watching as Catherine's eyes rose and met hers. "But what you did for her is incredible. Not many people would have the strength to do what you did. And then to put yourself in very real danger in order to find her, to make sure she is safe, is incredible" Joan added, watching as Catherine watched her attentively. "You do deserve to meet her" Joan stated, speaking candidly and with conviction. "If that's what you want." Catherine crossed her arms and looked up at Joan.

"Her parents are good people. She was happy. And I hope, in time, she will be happy again" she stated, looking towards Penny with warm eyes. "Even if what you're saying is true, how can I justify risking upsetting her? She's been through so much already."

"She's strong, she's a fighter" Joan stated. "Did you know that she gave the police information that led to the arrests of five people on kidnapping charges?" she asked, watching as Catherine's eyes widened slightly. "Her parents would love for you to meet her. And if they had not discussed this with her, or did not think she'd be able to handle it, they would not risk that. But after everything that she has been through and everything that has happened, don't you think that maybe she'd like to make the decision?" Joan asked. "She might really, really want to meet you." Joan watched as Catherine continued to watch her daughter, who had one arm wrapped around her mother's waist as she spoke to her father. Catherine inhaled deeply and nodded, walking slowly over to Penny and her parents.

Joan watched as Catherine stood just a foot from Penny, her body language revealing her anxiety. Penny seemed to be the first to register her presence, and she turned towards her with a polite expression which Joan was sure she recognised as being distinctly Catherine's. Penny's parents then turned expectantly towards Catherine, who introduced herself by her full name to Penny's parents, and allowed them to make the decision of how to continue. Sherlock, who had watched the scene with interest, watched as Penny's father placed a hand reassuringly on her lower back, as Penny's mother kept her hand on her waist as she indicated towards Catherine, exchanging a few words with Penny. Penny looked from her mother to Catherine, before asking her mother a question, which she smiled as she answered. Whatever was being said, it seemed to be relaxing Catherine markedly. Sherlock's consideration of Catherine's demeanour was interrupted by Penny, who took a couple of steps towards Catherine, smiling nervously and saying a few words which made Catherine smile and suppress a laugh. As Catherine looked up at Penny and replied to whatever it was that she had asked (Sherlock read the words 'to meet you' on her lips), Penny took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Catherine, which had clearly been unexpected. Sherlock continued to watch as Catherine slowly wrapped her arms around her daughter, her own eyes welling up as she attempted to blink back her tears.

"What did you say to her?" Sherlock asked Joan, who had made her way back towards him.

"The truth" she returned simply, watching the scene before her. Sherlock turned towards Joan with a calm and kind expression upon his face.

"Good job" Gregson stated. A few minutes passed and Gregson and Bell were redirected towards the grateful victims and families who sought their attention or assistance, and Joan found herself alone with Sherlock once more.

"Archie's parents were killed because of the actions of an addict" she stated in a low, simple voice, the change in subject drawing Sherlock's attention back towards her. "But these women are alive because of you" she added, watching as Sherlock ran his eyes across her with interest. "You are not responsible for the actions of the man whose addiction led to the death of Archie's parents. You are not the same."

"Perhaps not now" Sherlock returned. "But once, we were very much alike."

"You didn't kill anyone, Sherlock" she returned. "The main person you hurt during your addiction was yourself. And look at you now, look at what your recovery has enabled you to do" she stated, gesturing to the families around her with her hand. "Look at what you have achieved, and how far you have come. Instead of berating yourself for your past, celebrate your present. And future" she stated, watching as Sherlock looked up to her and watched her with interest. "You have one, Sherlock. And at what you have achieved in the last three years, and imagine what you can do in the next three, five, ten, twenty" she stated, watching as Sherlock appeared to be calming himself slightly. His fingers were no longer tapping on his thigh. "What do you want to do?" she asked gently.

"At this precise moment in time?" he asked, turning towards her. Joan nodded in response. "If you are done here, Watson, and are amenable, I was hoping we could return to the brownstone?"

"Of course" Joan returned.

"Excellent" he responded, his voice adopting the same animated tone that often defined his speech. "Although it is with both anticipation and sadness that we head back to it" he stated, watching as confusion swept across Joan's face. "Our honeymoon is over, Watson, and we are to return to separate abodes." Joan smiled slightly at this, watching Sherlock's face as she poised herself to speak.

"Not right now we're not" she stated, stepping towards him as they walked together towards the doors of the precinct. "And for the record, working on a case then being hospitalised for a week does not constitute a honeymoon" she stated wryly.

"I quite agree, Watson" Sherlock responded, holding the door open for her as he spoke. "Perhaps, once we are back at the brownstone we can find another way to celebrate." Joan stepped through the doors and smiled as she turned back towards him, laughter entering her voice as she spoke.

"You know we never actually got married, right?" she asked lightly.

"Not in the traditional or even legal manner, no" he responded. "But I believe our partnership to be stronger and more resilient than any marriage" he stated, joining Joan as they walked down the steps together. "And our vows, which often remain unspoken, are louder and more authentic than those spoken in any church."

"Right" Joan replied, unlocking her car and walking around it to her door. "I just hope you aren't planning on carrying me over the threshold" she joked.

"Of course I am" Sherlock stated, his voice almost convincing. Joan stopped easing herself into her seat and stood up tall as Sherlock opened the passenger door. "Although I am not one for tradition, Watson, there are certain conventions which must be adhered to."

"You just had major surgery, Sherlock" she chided as she eased herself into her seat. "The only thing you're gonna be lifting over the next few weeks is a pen." Sherlock scoffed and feigned a sigh in response as he eased himself into his seat and closed the door behind him.

"I assure you, Watson, I will be lifting things of considerably more weight than your average biro" he stated, his eyes glistening as he turned towards her. Joan clicked her seatbelt into place and looked up at him, her eyes finding his and holding his gaze. She watched for a few moments as he leaned towards her, their faces almost touching, his breath warm upon her cheek. A moment later, Sherlock pulled a manila folder from the waistband of his trousers and held it before him. "This file, for instance, contains a wealth of rather hefty information which you and I can sift through this evening" he stated, leaning back from her face as he opened the file and began flicking through it. Joan's lips tingled and her body radiated with warmth and anticipation, but she too leaned back and turned towards Sherlock.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

"I liberated it from Detective Bell's desk whilst you were reuniting Ms Adams with her daughter" he stated simply, his eyes not leaving the file, which he was busily leafing through. "It is rather an interesting case, Watson" Sherlock stated, turning towards her with a coy smile. Joan exhaled and rolled her eyes slightly, before putting her hands on the wheel and turning the key in the ignition.

"Put your seatbelt on" she stated, removing her sunglasses from the visor and putting them on, shaking her hair from her face as the click of Sherlock's seatbelt broke the silence. Joan drove the short distance back to the brownstone, navigating her way through the mid-morning traffic as her partner began to read her excerpts from the file, described some of the crime scene pictures and criticised the 'shockingly woeful and incredibly lacking abilities of the so-called detectives' who had been assigned to the case. Before Joan had even had time to turn off the ignition, Sherlock had already undone his seatbelt and walked briskly from the car, up the stairs and to the door of the brownstone, which he unlocked, before depositing his bag inside. By the time Joan had locked the car and made her way to the bottom of the staircase, Sherlock was standing tall by the door, watching her with interest as she paused and looked up at him. "You are not carrying me through that door, Sherlock" she stated, her voice adopting a more wary and concerned tone than she had intended.

"Of course not, Watson" he stated, watching as she looked up at him with a wary expression. "I would not dream of it" he added. Joan sighed, tucked her sunglasses into her handbag, and slowly began to ascend the stone steps. As she reached the second step to the top, she was surprised to be greeted by Sherlock's extended hand. Joan paused instantly, looking up at him with a combination of confusion and suspicion, as he slowly turned his hand to the side. Joan looked up at Sherlock, who was watching her with the same wary and slightly apprehensive wide eyes that she recognised from their discussions in the hotel room. Joan slowly lifted her hand to meet his, their palms pressed together and their fingers entwined, the scent of her perfume causing his eyes to widen and his pupils to dilate.

"What happens now?" she asked, her voice low and hesitant. Both were concerned about the question, though they each feared the answer more.

"One step at a time, Watson" Sherlock responded, his voice kind and reassuring. Joan relaxed slightly, holding his hand firmly as she rose up the final step and met him on the porch. Their hands remained clasped together, their eyes aligned, their bodies relaxed. "Excellent" he stated, his voice low and breathless as they stood before each other. Joan squeezed his hand reassuringly, before taking a step in front of him and leading him towards the door, which she stepped through first, guiding him over the threshold. Sherlock's hand remained in Joan's as she continued to look up at him, her expression soft and her eyes expectant. Sherlock watched her for a moment, before taking a step closer to her as he pushed the door slowly closed with his free hand. As the door closed, blocking the external world from Sherlock and Joan's private one, the partner's noses grazed and their lips met, as Sherlock reached his hand slowly around Joan's waist and pulled her closer to him, their kiss deepening and becoming more intense as their hands explored each other once more.

Over the past few days one of the central thoughts which remained undiscussed was both Sherlock and Joan's concerns about what would happen between them as they returned from working undercover to resuming their work as partners. But as Sherlock ran his hand up Joan's back and pulled her close to him as their kiss deepened further and became more intense, they found their previous concerns on the subject melting away, fading completely from both memory and reality, as though they had never existed at all.