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True Partnership	By : mvsanche Category: 1 through F > Elementary Views: 2520 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Elementary. No money is made from this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-True Partnership
- 1
I envy Watson’s ability to sleep through the night. The ability to block out the world and it’s ever growing stimuli is a talent to be commended. I am however loathe to admit it, to commend her would be to admit my own weakness, and she knows entirely too much about my weaknesses as is. As if sensing my inner turmoil, Watson rolls over to face me. The parted curtains allow her to be bathed in moonlight highlighting her high cheekbones and the gentle curve of her lips. Not to mention curves of another nature. I frown, pushing away the intrusive thoughts. Watson’s beauty is obvious to anyone with eyes - myself included. But it isn’t her beauty that’s been invading my thoughts. Not only her beauty, my mind corrects.

I push a strand of hair from her face, smothering the desire to smile as she moves closer. After Irene I convinced myself I would never love another woman again. Irene was the woman: an ethereal beauty, incredibly intelligent, sensitive to the minutia of daily life like myself. No mere mortal could ever touch me so deeply.

“Sherlock.”

She’s not awake, not really, yet the desire to put physical space between us claws at my very being. These past few years have been quite the education for her, but not just in deduction. When I first met Joan Watson I wrote her off as a babysitter, stupid really given how perceptive she was even then. By the end of our second day together, Watson had deduced the sort of man I was. In so many ways like a child: brash, prone to temper tantrums, wielding honesty like a single stick. And so very afraid of connecting with anyone. That moment, when I felt her staring at me through the glass of my holding cell, that was when I knew Watson was dangerous. That’s when I knew if ever there was another person I could connect with, it was her.

For the first month I’d tried to create distance. Resisting revealing any bit of myself save for my massive intellect, in which I drew great pride. But each time I hurt her, each time she invested in me and I purposely let her down, something in me cracked. Social niceties took too much effort - effort that could be better spent solving crimes. And yet, her sadness, her disappointment, it grates on my nerves. Her happiness on the other hand, does wonders for my mood, especially if it’s case-related.

A simple truth which led me to try to delay her departure, which led me to sit with her in a clinic for an hour when I could have been musing over my apiary. It was a truth that in my moments of madness and insomnia first led me to watch over her. Watson is not the best or even the most complicated being I have ever come across, but she is real. It was obvious to me that from the beginning, before even knowing an iota of my often depraved psyche, her heart was open to me. People were not often so selfless or so brave.

This was why, I so often reasoned with myself, on occasion my mind looked upon her not as my companion and friend but as my true partner. My romantic partner but without all the rules and tiptoeing such entanglements required. It was why, as I crouched before her in that bank vault (so close incidentally that my breath tickled her face), I nearly chucked rules out the window and gave into the desire to kiss her; why I crashed her family dinner and sang her praises to her family. Why her entanglements with Mycroft wounded my ego so deeply. I have always been a territorial man, always protected what was mine, but this primal instinct had never been as powerful as it was with Watson.

She shifts again, tucking a slender hand under her cheek. The motion startles me out of my reverie for just a moment. When had I gotten so close? My lips are only inches from hers and I find myself loathe to move away. After all we’ve been through she really should be more sensitive to the presence of an intruder. I must speak to her about the depth of her sleeping. Joan might label my current behavior as obsessive, but she never pushes me away.

“Sherlock?”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the fact that she calls out to me in her sleep sparks a little pleasure. I’m not the only one affected by our partnership.

“Go back to sleep Watson.”

I whisper, my every intention centered on returning to my work and allowing her to rest in peace. But then she reaches out for me, her delicate fingers wrapping around my wrist and tugging me closer. One eye opens slowly then the other, her sleepy gaze running up and down my face, before settling on my mouth unconsciously. I find myself chewing on the corner of my mouth, my gaze suddenly equally as fascinated by her lips. When will this madness end?

Several times throughout the years I have deduced both Watson’s attraction and the considerable effort she puts into suppressing it. We’re two attractive adults, such things are natural. But living together as we do, as open and honest as we do, no secrets between us, one would assume any attraction which had never been acted upon would die off.

“Hard to sleep when you’re staring at me.”

Much to my delight it’s not an admonishment, not really. She slides over on the bed, creating space should I wish to sit down. Most days I ignore the gesture, but tonight for whatever reason is different. Tonight I sit on the bed, basking in the warmth radiating off her body, allowing her to stroke my forearm without flinching and without pulling away. I openly mock the institution of marriage; monogamy, I’ve felt in the past, is for fools. But what then is this?

Watson and I live together, we take our meals together, we work together. We are in almost every sense of the word a monogamous couple. Even the frequency with which we seek sexual fulfillment elsewhere has remarkably decreased, although neither of us would dare comment on it. Myself, I find it most uncomfortable entering women in the flat; a sense of guilt washes over me in the moment, whenever I think of Watson, especially since she knows when I am satiating myself with the flesh of others. Above Mycroft and even my father, Watson was the one person whose loyalty I valued - who I felt I owed my loyalty to. Partnership, marriage, call it what you like but weren’t we engaging in a relationship all the same?
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True Partnership