Thread: The Deduction of Human Emotions (Dreamer- and Elise)

RE The Dedeuction of Human Emotions Dreamer- and Elise I'll make it Joan then, hope you don't mind Thank you very much, Dr.Watson, said the old woman in front of Joan. She nodded with a smile and waited patiently for the woman to stand up from her seat. Take care, Mrs.Miller, said Joan, and remember - twice a day. She watched the woman walking slowly out of the room, taking her time. When the door finally closed behind her, Joan sighed with relief. She looked at the list of patients that was on the screen of her computer and scrolled down to the end. She clicked the little box by the word Miller and a small V appeared in it. It was the last name on the list, which meant that Joan finally gets to go home. She stretched her arms and yawned, her mood lightened at once. She loved working at the clinic, there was no doubt about it, but sometimes she just wanted some peace and quiet. Besides, after such a long hard day with so many patients, she deserved the right to be a little tired. Joan turned off the computer and took the pin out of her hair, finally setting it free. The pin was digging into her head for hours now, and she wished to take it out a lot sooner. Her hair wasn't long and it barely touched her shoulders, but she was still required to hold it up with a pin while she was working. She ran her fingers through it and shook her head, feeling a lot better. Joan took off her white robe and hung it on the hook by the door. She put on her coat and grabbed her bag, took a quick glance at the mirror, and turned off the lights. As Joan walked towards the exit of the clinic, she passed by the receptionist. Watson, out, she said. Got it. Have a nice day, Dr.Watson, said Stacy the receptionist with a wide smile. She was a very young blonde woman who giggled a lot, but Joan liked her. She was always very positive and energetic, and she greeted everyone with a smile. Goodbye, Stacy, said Joan with a light wave of her hand as she walked out the door, see you tomorrow. Joan reached the bus station and waited. Her thoughts were buzzing with words that her patients said to her, and she couldn't take them out of her mind. It's hard to pay close attention to every single person when you have so many patients, but Joan managed to do so. Perhaps it was because of her caring nature, or maybe because she was used to helping others throughout her whole life. Whatever the reason, Joan loved her job and there was nothing more delightful to her than looking back at the day she had and thinking about all of the people she managed to take care of. Well, there was maybe one thing... Joan wasn't sure why she admired Sherlock so much. Maybe it was the woman's extraordinary talent, or her unique mind. Joan was mainly fascinated by her, and the more she thought about her the more she wanted to come home already. The bus finally arrived to the station and Watson got on it gladly, it was getting rather cold outside and her hands were freezing. The ride home wasn't too long, and it passed by rather quickly as Joan stared out of the window, deep in thought. She was in a good mood and the day was satisfying enough, yet whenever Watson was left alone for too long she began to think. And thinking lead to memories, and memories... When she walked out of that bus a short time later, she wasn't as cheerful as she was when she got in. Finally, the sight of her home at 221b Baker Street made her smile ever so slightly and walk a little bit faster. Joan climbed the stairs and opened the door half smiling, but her smile fell at once when she smelled the air. You're smoking again, she said and coughed, this is unbelievable. She walked to the window, opened the curtains and then the window itself, relieved as some fresh air got in and she could breathe again. Were you just sitting here all day? You know how much I disapprove of this habit of yours, said Joan and gave Sherlock a disapproving look. She crossed her arms on her chest and just stood there for a few moments, looking at Sherlock. She felt something weird - was she angry? Not quite. Was she feeling betrayed? That's silly. Disappointed? Maybe, although it shouldn't surprise her, that was definitely not the first time. And probably not the last one either. Listen to me, she said, I'm telling you both as a doctor and as your friend - stop it, please. Joan tried to sound convincing, but she still wasn't sure how to speak to Sherlock. She was so intelligent and amazingly clever. Her sense of logic was impeccable. But then, why couldn't she see how bad it was for her? Why was she harming herself? Alright, are you going to throw that away yourself, or are you going to make me do it for you? she asked, gesturing at the cigarette between Sherlock's fingers.