He awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. Sherlock waited for his eyes to focus and his mind to return from the world of sleep it had fallen into. Slowly all of his senses came back to him. The pillows beneath his head were soft and feathery- not what he was used to. The wardrobe opposite him was not his own and was that- perfume he could smell? A memory steam rolled out of the slumber induced dark in his mind. This was Joan's room. That was Joan's perfume he could smell and it was her duck feathered pillows beneath his head. He sat up with a jolt and turned his head slowly to the left. Joan Watson was asleep on the pillow next to his, facing the other way. He watched the duvet rise and fall slowly with her breathing. Daring to peek under the duvet he saw that he was indeed naked and judging by her bare back, so was she. Sherlock slipped out of the bed and patted towards the door-which was already open and turning back he saw a pile of hastily removed clothes, some his and some not his. He sorted through and picked out those that belonged to him. Within minutes he had put them on and was on his way to the police station to meet Captain Gregson.
"Where's your handler?" Gregson joked when he saw that Sherlock was alone.
"She doesn't follow me everywhere you know!" Sherlock retorted. He brushed past Gregson to reach the files on the Captain's desk. Was that perfume he could smell on Sherlock? Gregson stared bemused at Sherlock's turned back. Perhaps Joan had attempted to freshen the home they shared and the feminine touches had brushed off on Sherlock in more ways than one. Gregson considered how the old the old Sherlock would have reacted if he had found out he smelled like a woman- he would probably just laugh it off now. Gregson's train of thought was interrupted by Sherlock's phone going off. He rummaged in his pockets and retrieved it, placing the files back on the desk. They were all dull, not enough to distract Sherlock as much as he wanted distracting. The message was from Joan.
'Come back, I'm not mad.'
Sherlock considered the message for a few moments before heading to the door, he gripped the handle and the metal blinds covering the window rattled. Gregson spoke with a hint of irritation.
"You've only just got here!"
"All dull, you can solve them all without me, I have other things to be doing."
Gregson wasn't sure how to take the back-handed compliment, but whilst he thought of a response, Sherlock had opened the door and was striding out of the station much to the bemusement of the officers who had seen him enter just a few minutes earlier. Gregson pinched the top of his nose in a stereotypical sign of stress and sighed. He picked up a file and began to read.