Joan stood in the living room of her new apartment with her hands on her hips and a smile threatening to surface. She kept watch on the doorway, amused at what she knew would soon be coming down the hall. The move hadn't been easy with no help from her parents on account of moral protest and the Holmes' general refusal to lift a hand. Sebastian had scoffed at the thought of asking his parents as well and just suggested they get on with doing it alone.
"Sherlock! Hold up your end!" and agitated cry sounded from the stairwell just down the hall. The red head of Sebastian appeared soon after his protest, struggling under his end of their futon.
Joan smiled and cheered, "Heave, boy, you're almost here!" She was happy to have finished setting up the rest of the furniture while they'd picked up the exact object that was now lumbering its way to her. "I've got the spot all picked out; all you have to do is set it down."
"Easy for you to say, Joan," grunted her surly roommate, switching his hold to make it easier for the couch to fit through the door. "You don't have him 'helping' you." He bobbed his head towards the opposite end of the futon and gave his end a pull through the door.
"If you'd have listened to me downstairs, both of our burdens would be lighter." Sherlock stumbled through the door after an effective shove, his end slamming against the ground. He shook the dark, curly locks from his eyes ineffectively and ended up pushing them to the right in an attempt to clear his vision. "It's here. Is my part done now?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side, pleading with Joan to let him go to his room.
Joan shook her head and picked up his abandoned end and sighed. "Go sit in your cave, Sherlock. You're no use to me if you're grumpy." Sherlock beamed and practically skipped away as Joan and Sebastian heaved their futon into its designated area.
Sebastian straightened and gave Joan a small salute. "I'm off. I'll be back eventually. I left some money for groceries in the cookie jar my mom packed; don't let Sherlock use it for his science. I won't be more than two days, but if I'm not back by then… Just wait longer."
Joan gave a little pout and wined, "Seb, you're leaving so soon?" She grabbed his arm lightly and tugged at the sleeve. "What about the super roommate adventures we were going to have?" She stuck out her bottom lip and wriggled her body, hoping her new friend would stay longer.
"I have to go, Joan. You knew I'd be leaving a lot when we got into this. You have Sherlock, though he doesn't really seem like the most interesting company. He was silent the whole trip, by the way. I'll be back." He dashed out the door before she could make any more pleas, leaving Joan alone in the living room.
She sighed and flopped onto the couch, her arms hanging low between her knees. She'd met Sebastian six months ago at a careers fair and they'd hit it off right away. He and Sherlock… well, they tolerated each other. Though their encounters usually ended up with a glaring match, both men's chests puffed out in order to assert dominance. Joan let out a breathy laugh and lay down.
Sherlock. He was interesting to say in the least. Tall and lanky, a genius to be sure but a little bit of a prick. Joan had known him most of her life, what with him being her next door neighbor and all. He frustrated her to no end with his deductions and examinations and the knowing smirk he wore just about every moment of the day. Most people said he was insane, Joan just said he was weird. She turned on the television and grabbed a pillow from her room. All the boxes had been properly labeled and corresponded with the lists in her ledger, so it was an easy find. Joan lay down and made herself comfortable, sliding on hand under the pillow to prop her head up a bit. Soon, she was fast asleep.
Twenty minutes later, Sherlock crept from his hole. Finding a vulnerable Joan, he got an idea on how to prove a theory and let a wicked grin spread across his features. He ran to the kitchen, keeping as quiet as he could, and grabbed an egg and a towel. Quickly thanking his mother for sending one of her drivers with groceries, Sherlock placed the towel next to Joan's torso, roughly above her bellybutton by his calculations, and the egg on top of that. He sat excitedly on the chair across from her sleeping form and began to wait.
Five minutes turned into ten rather slowly with Sherlock's eyes fixed on the egg and he was becoming impatient. Joan had always denied moving in her sleep, but Sherlock knew this proclamation to be false and he was going to prove it once and for all. Joan would roll over, squashing the egg and simultaneously waking her up to prove him right. All she had to do was move. Sherlock's eyes burned into her body, his intense blue eyes willing something to happen. He decided to pay heed to the saying "a watched pot never boils," and moved his attention. His gaze landed upon Joan's face and Sherlock pushed away a blush. Joan had always looked so peaceful while she was sleeping, her thin lips opening just a little and her long lashes resting on her round cheeks. Sherlock jerked his head and focused on the show that still played, deciding to distract himself with something besides his test subject.
Not another minute passed before Sherlock got a result, but it was perhaps not the one he wanted. Joan's right hand twitched violently and, as it was right next to the egg, caused the subject to fly across the room and shatter right in Sherlock's face. He yelped and sprang up, waking Joan with his noise.
"Sherlock!" she yelled, sitting bolt upright on the couch. "Why on Earth do you have egg yolk all over your face? And the carpet too! Oh, Sherlock, what have you done?" She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. "Can't fall asleep ever again, can I? You'll have to clean that up." She looked at him inquisitively. "What caused the egg to hit you in the face, Sherlock?" Joan let a smile play on her lips and raised an eyebrow.
Sherlock cleared his throat nervously and dabbed at the mess with a handkerchief. "Oh, just a little test with eggs and pressure. It quite literally backfired and bit my nose." He pointed to the part that had been hit first and laughed. He hoped she'd fall for it. Joan didn't like when he experimented on her.
Joan crossed to her friend, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor. "Then why is there a towel right next to where I was sleeping?"
Sherlock looked up from where he had knelt and pressed his lips together in a smile of pride. Joan Watson was becoming better at the art of deduction by the day. "I didn't want the egg to get on the couch when you crushed it," he admitted.
She reached back and threw the washcloth at his face. "Clean it up. There's cleaning supplies in the cabinet under the sink. I'll be unpacking my things." Joan strode towards her room and looked back before she entered. "What do you want to do for supper? One of us can cook or we can order takeout."
Sherlock thought for a moment, then replied, "Takeout is a good first- night- in- the- apartment food. We are college students now." He didn't look at her but kept cleaning up the mess. Looking at Joan seemed to create problems lately.
"Okay," she said shortly, a chipper tone seeping into her voice. Joan hurried away to set up her room, leaving Sherlock to clean his mess.