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"No!"
"I must insist!"
"No, no, absolutely not!"
"It's completely safe, as you know I take every precaution."
"Sherlock" Joan turned on her heel and crossed her arms "I'm going to a place where it's their job to give tattoo's not their hobby, god I should have never even told you."
"Well I am glad that you did, there are at minimum .55 tattoo parlors per square mile in New York City alone, finding a clean one with a waiting list less than a week-"
".55, that's not even a whole-"
"-is like finding a needle in a proverbial hay stack." Sherlock bounced on his heels and stared straight ahead at Joan, his eyes lit up like a kid at a candy store. "I can provide you with a one of a kind art piece straight from the comfort of your own home, for free! I don't understand what the issue is here."
Joan exhaled through her nose and turned her head "I all ready have an appointment at a place that I trust, okay?"
"You don't trust me then? Is that it? Or-or is it, that you don't want me sticking a needle in you, hm?"
Her head snapped back to him, "Oh don't even go there."
Sherlock returned the look with one just as stern and it seemed for a moment that they were in the midst of a very serious staring contest. Both minds just as stubborn to win.
Sherlock, broke first.
"Watson I implore you-"
"Why is this such a big deal to you?"
"I-" Sherlock inhaled and stretched out his arms to his side, raising himself up on the tip of his toes before plopping back down to the ground. His mouth set in the thinnest line as he attempted- it seemed- to speak with her telepathically. Joan stared at him eyebrows raised, waiting for whatever it was that he was going to say.
"I don't have time for this" she shook her head and grabbed her coat.
"Watson!" The door slammed before Sherlock had the chance to get to the hallway. He rummaged up a scarf and his wool coat and chased her down "If you're adamant on doing this, I insist on coming with you."
"Oh no, uh uh" she stopped walking and turned to him, snow crunching loudly beneath her boots. "You'll only manage to do, I don't know, something to ruin this, so no."
"I all ready know where you're going, I'll only follow you."
"That's not creepy."
"Isn't it easier to just bring me?"
Joan looked away from him with a sigh and waved down a taxi "188 Bowery".
They sat in silence the entire car ride, busying themselves on their phones and attempting to ignore the horrible music the cab driver had decided to play. Before long they were at the place, the cabbie was paid and they were standing in front of the parlor. The shop was decorated sparsely, there was a line of people sitting in chairs against a wall and a beautiful woman sitting behind a counter.
"Hi, Joan Watson I have an appointment at 5:30?"
"Cool, no problem, give me a second to pull you up here" she shuffled through a stack of papers for the day and frowned "I'm not seeing you here."
"I made the appointment a month ago."
"Huh," she set the papers down, lifted the calendar on the desk and searched for the day "here you are. That's weird, it says you cancelled yesterday."
"No I-" she turned to Sherlock who seemed uncharacteristically interested in a tattoo book and narrowed her eyes "no I didn't."
"Well I'm sorry, the spots all ready been filled."
Joan didn't look at the woman as she was still glowering at Sherlock, who'd yet to notice her "And due to the late cancellation I lost my deposit right?"
"Yea, bummer."
Joan slowly turned to the woman "Do you know who called to cancel my appointment?"
"It doesn't say."
"Right, of course."
"If you want we can re-schedule-"
"No," she interrupted with a smile "never mind, thank you." She turned fully to Sherlock who was barely looking up from the book "Sherlock?"
"Troubles?"
Joan reached out and took Sherlock by the bicep and led him quickly out of the shop. The snow was starting up again and the street was mostly empty, save for a few people. "Why did you do that?"
"I haven't the slightest clue as to what you're on about."
"Why did you cancel my appointment? Why did you come with me all the way here if you knew it was cancelled, I'm just-" she was seething. Sherlock gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was talking about, but refused to admit it. "I can't believe you. Was this that important to you?"
"Watson-"
"No, okay, no. Whatever you're going to say is not going to justify this, I've had that appointment for a month, you lost me my deposit and wasted my time. Now I'm going to go home, I don't care where you go, just, go" she adjusted her scarf and started walking without looking back.
When Joan got back to the brownstone she closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment. She wondered briefly if Sherlock had come home, then shook her head; the time it had taken to get back had not made her feel any more forgiving. She removed her jacket to dust off the little bit of snow that had settled on her shoulders and made a bee line to the kitchen. She'd focus on tea, because it was easier than being angry.
Joan never realized just how eerily quiet the place was without Sherlock's almost constant noise. She was sure he'd be calling her any time to explain his actions in just the way Sherlock could, but she just didn't care. Instead she put her phone on silent and dropped it on the table as the kettle began to sing.
Within the hour she was sitting in bed with her laptop pulled up on her knees. It was barely 7pm and Joan was exhausted, but scrolling through pages of news and social media seemed to numb her brain for enough time when she could properly go to sleep.
When she woke up, it was 2am and the front door was closing.
She moved her laptop to the side, grabbed her robe and quietly made it downstairs. When she came in to the kitchen all she saw was the back of Sherlock's head "Sherlock?"
"Oh Watson, yes, didn't mean to wake you, I- tried to call," he turned around with her phone in his hand "but it seems your phone-"
"Was on silent, yea" she crossed her arms "where did you go?"
"I went to the precinct and dug through some old files until the good captain most graciously kicked me out in to the street." He set her phone down and pursed his lips "Then I took a tour of the neighborhood and here I am."
"You did that for eight and a half hours?"
"Mmhm."
Joan looked harder at Sherlock and she was sure he knew why. Sherlock had been clean and sober for quite some time and although she was confident in his recovery, she still worried; old habits die hard.
"If you're wondering about my state I can assure you I'm quite sober."
"Of course" she walked over and grabbed her phone and started back up stairs.
"Watson?"
"What is it?"
"I would like to apologize for earlier, I overstepped my bounds, it wasn't right to do what I did and I am sorry."
"It's not-" she sighed and walked back down the few stairs she'd managed to climb "it's not just that you over stepped your bounds. You once again invaded what little privacy I have in order to get your way and you never once stopped to think about what I wanted. You checked my datebook and cancelled my appointment, don't you see how ridiculous that is?"
"I do."
"Then why did you do it?"
"Because I could figure out no proper way to explain how honored I'd be to be able to give you your first tattoo" he replied quickly "I just wanted to give back a little of what you've given to me."
Joan raised her eyebrows.
Sherlock kept his eyes focused on anything but Joan "It's trivial and childish and I acted rashly as per usual. So if we can simply move past this-"
"Sherlock-"
"-I'd greatly appreciate-"
"Sherlock!" she stood up "no more talking okay? Get your gun."
"I-"
"Shhh" Joan raised her finger and pointed toward his desk. She then removed her robe, hung it on the stair case and followed him in to the parlor; where he was busy turning on as many lights as possible. He opened the autoclave under the desk and removed the needle bar and tube from inside, setting it on a clean tray. She sat down on the couch as he began placing his equipment in odd looking pouches to further be sterilized.
He then went to the kitchen to wash his hands and his arms "So did you have an idea of what you wanted? Your birth sign, a heart that says mum, a butterfly on your lower back?"
Joan lowered her eyes "No."
"So then what will it be?" He placed new bags on his spray bottles and sat down to put his gloves on.
"A bee."
Sherlock looked up surprised "A bee?"
"A bee" she'd get him back for what he did, but for now she was trusting him. She had decided on a bee long before meeting Sherlock, however it had only taken on special meaning in the past few weeks.
"Where?"
"Shoulder blade."
He finished sterilizing all of his equipment and asked her to move to a stable chair. Sherlock grabbed a clean razor and moved her hair out of the way as she sat, shaving and sterilizing the area where she'd indicated earlier.
He grabbed a pen and slowly began drawing out a bee, being careful not to get in to too much detail and keeping with what he understood to be Joan's aesthetic.
Flicking a switch on his machine he asked her quietly if she was ready.
"No time but the present."
He set the needle to her skin and watched closely while the tension slowly ebbed as he moved along the outline. She was still as stone, stoic in expression and the only indication that she was in pain was the steady contraction of muscles in her neck and back.
He casually wiped away the excess ink and blood as he continued, focusing solely on the task at hand.
"If at any point you wish to take a break, I have no problem stopping."
"I'm fine."
"If you are sure."
"I'm fine."
He nodded and continued on, switching color's to add a dash of yellow and orange.
As he began to finish up he could tell that Joan was about done, she was adjusting her legs and stretching her back just enough not to bother him in his work. He turned off the machine and grabbed a solution wiping and cleaning it as he went.
"Voila."
Joan stood up without a word and went to the bathroom, leaving Sherlock sitting anxiously until she returned.
In the bathroom she turned sideways and inspected it. It was of course red and puffy at the moment, but she smiled. It turned out exactly how she'd imagined and it was small enough that if need be it could be covered up with makeup, but cute enough that she wouldn't want to. It looked to be in mid flight with a little trail following after it, like something out of Winnie the Pooh.
She left the bathroom with a smile and found Sherlock waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
"Well?" He asked apprehensively.
"I love it, thank you."
Sherlock seemed to ease "Of course, I told you not to worry-"
"Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"Don't" she turned with a smile headed toward her bedroom.