Hello Friends! So I've started a new story. Not sure how long it will go or where I'm headed, but I love Johnny Lee Miller! So here is my adaptation of his life/relationship with the lovely Lucy Lu as Joan Watson. Please let me know what you think. If there is no interest then I may not continue it. Thanks & Enjoy!

Joan was sitting on the couch looking through the file on her lap. Her heart wasn't really in it, but Sherlock needed to keep busy. After everything that had happened the last thing they needed was for him to get bored. He was already moody and morose; he couldn't seem to decide if he'd done the right thing by letting 'M' turn himself in. She might not be able to deduce like he could, but she could tell by his lack of nervous energy that he was still very upset. Usually he was up; pacing while deep in thought or striding purposefully as he went to find something or other that would supposedly help him in whatever mystery he was solving at the moment. But now he sat on the floor, back against the couch, wrapped in a blanket, barely moving. While it was peaceful, it was also alarming.

"What about this one about the woman who suddenly disappeared? I would have guessed it was the husband, but they checked out his alibi and he seemed genuinely concerned about her." She said. When she didn't get an immediate response she added, "I know it's already been a year, but it might be nice to keep busy." He let out a huff. "It wasn't the husband. It was his mistress. Tired of wondering if her lover would ever leave his wife, she took the woman, killed her, and left her in the unfinished building on 12th where the police finally found the body due to an anonymous tip."

Joan was used to hearing Sherlock summarize confusing cases as if it was child's play, but this one felt a bit fantastical. "There wasn't anything about a mistress in the file." She stated flatly. "Of course not, but it was a simple jump after looking at all the photographs they took of the husband while he was under surveillance. He was constantly in the company of one Moira Martin; the police failed to recognize their relationship due to her previous friendship with the couple. However, the body was found in the building where Mrs. Martin was opening her new travel agency and the wife was her interior decorator."

"Couldn't it all be a sad coincidence?" Joan asked. It sounded too horrible to conceive. "Absolutely," replied Sherlock, "it was the fact that Mrs. Martin and Mr. Levitt left the country shortly after the body of his wife was found that sealed it for me. They were married, in Paris, only a month later." He didn't look back at Joan with that 'I told you so' look he often gave her when he'd finished explaining how he had been right. Joan simply sighed and closed the file. There were only a handful left in the box; he'd already figured out the rest.

She was about to reach for the next one, intent on getting this insufferable man out of his funk, when he got to his feet. Keeping the blanket around him, he turned to look at Joan. "I realize that you have made quite a sacrifice in order to stay on here; to look after me, but I assure you I will not relapse. Therefore, you are no longer bound to stay. You've already passed up your next client and gone a week without pay."

Joan was about to protest. He had seemed to believe her when she'd told him that his father had agreed to let her stay with Sherlock. But she knew that he'd figured it out somehow, denying it wouldn't get them anywhere. "When did you sort it out?" She asked. "Almost at once." He gave her a sad smile before continuing. "My father, while quite wealthy, is a spendthrift. He would not allow you to stay on. If I relapsed it would be back to rehab for me and if I did not, well, then there would be no use for you." They looked at each other a moment when he added, "Plus, you weren't able to look me directly in the eye that whole day."

"Why didn't you just call me out on it then?" Joan couldn't understand how he had let nearly a week go by without bringing this up. "I was right. You wanted to stay here and continue our, my, work. You did not, however, wish to admit that for unknown reasons. I believed that if I let you deceive me, that you would eventually choose to stay for good. I realize now, that I was misguided. You are staying because you fear that I will lose myself in my obsession. While I understand your concern based on my behavior a fortnight ago, it is unfounded and unnecessary. I have resolved not to allow my personal feelings to muddy the water when it comes to this man, Moriarty. I give you my word."

Joan had not been aware that her desire to stay with Sherlock had been anything more than just sadness at one of the most interesting times in her life coming to an end. It had been frustrating and exhausting, but also exhilarating. She'd also come to truly care about Sherlock Holmes. He was unusual and, at times, infuriating, but he was fascinating and she enjoyed him more than she liked to admit. So when the six weeks had been up she was ready to leave. Then everything had gone to hell and Sherlock had sat on the couch at the station and told her he'd miss her. It meant so much to her that when his father had turned down her request to stay she'd lied and done so anyway. It grated a bit that Sherlock had been aware of all of this; that he had allowed her to stay in her lie for her own pride's sake, but now the illusion was out in the open and she just had to admit it.

"Perhaps part of my decision is because I worry about you, but you were right. I didn't want to admit that being a sober companion wasn't as fulfilling as I made it out to be. So, I'm staying if that is still alright with you." She couldn't help but smile and it widened when he returned with one of his own. "Of course, Watson, I hardly want to admit that having you with me makes me better at my job, but it is true. Plus, your beginner deductive skills are quite good. I find teaching you is really very rewarding." He turned from her, the conversation being over in his mind, and made his way upstairs. Joan liked to think that there was a new lightness to his step and the hunching of his shoulders had subsided.

There were so many things to consider, like how were they going to make any money, but Joan was staying and she hadn't felt so happy in a long time.