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Joan’s lips tingled, stung like they were experiencing pins and needles and she licked them once in the hope that the sensation would fade, but it didn’t. She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling, her back against the cool wall. Her eyes were alert, her senses heightened, and she watched Jamie back up until she was a safe distance away.
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, but that couldn’t be right, because Joan’s lips still stung and her heart still thundered in her chest by the time Jamie sighed and finally spoke.
“What should you have me do, Joan? Ignore it?”
Joan exhaled heavily. “You know what, spare me,” she said, shaking her head dismissively. She absently brought her hands to her waist, where she straightened the hem of her shirt. “Stop talking at me in that faux maudlin romantic voice.”
Jamie arched her brows, amused, before she just as quickly wiped her face clean of any noticeable emotion. “The kiss was not enjoyable.”
“It was uninvited,” Joan snapped, bringing her back off of the wall.
“Unwelcome?” Jamie asked coyly.
Joan’s jaw dropped and she sputtered in silence before saying, “You’re the love of Sherlock’s life.”
“As are you, we have that in common,” Jamie replied and Joan leveled her with a hard stare. “Surely you know that, Joan.”
“Sherlock and I are friends,” Joan replied, coldly.
“And you are smart enough to know that love is not only confined to those enraptured and enslaved by romance.” Jamie stared at Joan for a long moment. “Stop using Sherlock as a distraction.”
“I’m not going to do this with you.”
“Because of Sherlock–“
“Because of you,” Joan said, heatedly. She flicked her hand at the wrist as if she’d just rolled dice at a craps table. “Do you have no awareness of who, of what, you are?”
“A criminal,” Jamie replied, as if bored.
“A master, criminal,” Joan qualified, taking a step forward. “You’re wanted by like, everyone.”
“Even you?” Jamie quipped.
Joan flushed red, though even she couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or fury that colored her cheeks. “I am a detective,” she said, her voice leveling out. “I have devoted the last several years of my life into putting people like you in jail.”
“And if I weren’t a criminal?” Jamie asked.
“That’s a stupid question,” Joan said. “Hypotheticals have no place in this conversation.”
“I desire you, Joan,” Jamie said. “I want to take you to bed.”
“So?” Joan replied. “Just because you want something doesn’t mean you can have it. I mean, I know that’s a difficult concept for someone with your history of horrific behavior to grasp, but–“
“But you’re flustered, you weren’t expecting to find yourself the object of my affection, and for that reason only I am allowing you to continue on like this.” Jamie’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with an emotion Joan couldn’t name.
“I’m sorry, allowing me?”
“You kissed me back, Joan,” Jamie said. “And perhaps your guilt or allegiance to Sherlock has given you amnesia,” she continued, “but it was you who held on to the back of my shirt when I pressed you into the wall just now. Or do you truly forget the breathy moan that escaped your lips when my hand grazed your side?”
Joan worked her jaw, silent.
Jamie stepped forward, her eyes trailing the length of Joan’s body.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Joan said as she cocked her head slightly, her voice just above a whisper. Jamie met her eye and they stared, steps apart, for a long moment.
“You are lovely when you blush,” Jamie finally said, her voice soft.
“Get out,” Joan said, never looking away.
Jamie stepped back, nodding her head slightly, chivalrously. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small card. She quickly wrote something on the back, using the table to her left, then righted herself and turned her attention back to Joan, the card left on the table.
“What is that?” Joan asked.
“Come on, clever girl,” Jamie said, reaching to the floor and picking up her purse.
“You’re giving me your number?” Joan scoffed.
“I’m giving you the address to my flat here in town,” Jamie said, sliding the straps of her purse onto her forearm. “Whether you decide to give it to Sherlock or the police is up to you.”
“I will,” Joan said, though the break in her voice made her own brow knit with doubt.
“I have no doubt that you will,” Jamie said. “Eventually. In the meantime…”
Joan felt her jaw tighten again. “Get out,” she breathed.
Jamie nodded again, then turned and exited, her heels clicking with an echo on the hardwood floor.