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

The somber tune Sherlock was playing continued to vibrate through the air. Her fingers were moving of their own accord whilst she played, and her steely blue eyes glazed over as she became lost in thought. It was only when Joan stepped in front of her to close the window that she remembered where she was. She tensed her body for a moment and then instantly relaxed her shoulders when she realized it was Watson. Sherlock's eyes were locked on the other woman as Joan stood beside her and stared out the window as well. The doctor was a lovely individual to look at, attractive with bright, kind eyes. No wonder she continued to attract so many boyfriends. It was hard to think that somebody would be able to hate her and Sherlock was almost positive that nobody did. People tended to flock to her like moths to a flame. Unlike Sherlock. . . Who continued to repel people. But not everyone it seemed, she had the good grace to catch Joan Watson's attention. The doctor was an enigma to the detective, just when Sherlock was sure that she had figured out the other woman she was pleasantly corrected. Even now, Joan wouldn't say it but by the way she held her body in a very relaxed position and tilted her head ever so slightly towards the direction of the music, it was clear that she very much enjoyed Sherlock's playing. And why wouldn't the doctor tell her that she liked it? Was it some fight for dominance, as if she would be showing weakness in front of Sherlock? Or maybe she was holding back any praise she had for the detective because of the cigarette earlier? There were many more possibilities, but that's what made the woman so intriguing. Although it usually went against the grain to have a piece of information just in reach but not accessible, this time it caused a warm feeling to start in the pit of her stomach. Yet when Joan turned back around to go into the kitchen to clean the cup, Sherlock's face was wiped of the small smile she had dawned and back into a neutral expression. The song was finished just as Watson returned to the chair and picked up the laptop. She drew out the last note before turning wordlessly to put away the precious instrument and walk into the kitchen herself. Before entering, it was already obvious that tea would be waiting on the counter for Sherlock, Joan always made her some. It was odd acts like that that made Sherlock tilt her head and consider social courtesy's. For many a year she had lived by herself and taken care of the place she lived in if you could call it that, and most of the time it was in seclusion. So having another person, someone 'normal', to constantly be hanging around was a distinct change. Annoying to have someone telling you to eat or sleep, but comforting in its own way. Sherlock then poured out her tea, it was cold now but she didn't mind. Then after stirring in a bit of sugar she made her way into the living to see Watson searching the world-wide web. As her eyebrows arched and furrowed slightly, Sherlock bent down behind the chair and poked her head over Joan's shoulder. What is this? Are you still continuing with that unproductive blog of yours? The comment was mostly a grumble and her hot breath brushed Joan's cheek and neck. She really could see no probable cause to use that blog of hers, the limp had gone away months ago. . . And that stupid hat picture peeved Sherlock like nothing else.