Chapter Text
For the most part Sherlock pushed the whole affair to the back of his mind. He had more important things to think about than an illicit tryst with a student. He continued on his day with his usual air of disdain and personal brand of sarcasm. It happened. He had no intention of it happening again. The best thing to do was to get over it.
Of course, that was easier said than done. During his lunch break he had been forgoing eating to read a scientific journal at one of the staff lounges when something on his shoulder reflected light in his eyes. Upon further inspection he discovered a medium cut strand of golden tawny hair stuck to his shirt. Joanna's hair. He stared at the strand for a long time, twirling it between his fingers, before giving up any silly pretenses and pulling out his mobile.
[I will be in my office at six this evening if you still want to have that talk. -SH]
Joanna didn't do as well in pushing it away. Rather, she spent most of her class letting the full impact of what she'd done (slept with a teacher, who honestly did that outside of bad telly Dramas?) sink in, until she was blushing profusely and hoping no one noticed. She returned to her dorm the moment she was let out to shower and change out of the clothes that smelled like him even more than those bloody nightclothes. And while she was showering, it hit her again: she'd slept with a professor. And not just any professor, but Sherlock. It was literally a fantasy made real (well, in most of her fantasies neither of them had labels at all), and before she knew it she was laughing. It wasn't really an amused sort of laughter though, more like a cathartic cry except she giggled instead of sobbed until her ribs and cheeks hurt and her fingers had gone pruney.
She never answered his text message, and she wasn't sure if it was out of spite or simply because there was no point in confirming. She wondered if he just wanted to prevent a possible disaster or if he genuinely cared about whatever she wanted to say. Which, she still didn't know. 'That can't happen again?' They both already knew that. 'I want it to anyway?' He would probably tell her he wasn't interested, and that it was too dangerous.
She understood the consequences. If they were found out, he would lose his job and she would lose any chance of going to med school. Hell, she might even be expelled from uni altogether. And that was terrifying, but it also wasn't fair and she hated that a bunch of stuffy old men on a school board got to decide what was right and acceptable and what wasn't. She was an adult, for Christ's sake!
She went to the rest of her classes thinking what exactly she would say to Sherlock, had dinner being afraid of all his possible responses, and then promptly at 6 she showed up at his office. She still had no idea exactly what it was she wanted, but she was so nervous he'd deny the both of them of it anyway.
Sherlock stubbed out the cigarette on a clear patch of wood in the top drawer of his desk when he heard Joanna approach. It was highly frowned upon to smoke in one's office, meaning that it wasn't allowed, but he honestly didn't care. He had needed the smoke (sixth one since the 'incident') and it served to eliminate the smell of sex in his office. He then rose to answer the door.
"We're going to have to make this short," he said by way of greeting then immediately returned to his chair. He had smoked enough in the past hour that despite the fan being on there was still a plume of smoke hovering over his desk. He ignored it and waved to her usual seat. If Joanna noticed such things, she would notice that his desk had been completely cleaned and organized.
"Now, I have a few things I would like to say but I am willing to hear you out first. Go ahead and say your peace," he said, keeping all tones and movements professional despite how he couldn't make his mind stop replaying the feel of her skin against his.
Joanna wrinkled her nose a bit at the overwhelming smell of smoke as she entered the office, but she had bigger things to worry about than that. He'd cleaned up alright; no evidence left that anything out of the ordinary had happened here. Which she wouldn't have minded, except... except the tone in which he spoke was so familiar she felt the distinct sensation of her heart plummeting into her stomach almost immediately. He was being 'Sherlock the Professor', and Joanna knew what that meant. He'd already shown her this song and dance before. Only now she wasn't even afforded the kindness of feigned ignorance. Now she knew just how she felt about him, undeniably, and if he were to pull away from her, she couldn't even pretend it didn't matter that much.
"I'm not giving a presentation in one of your classes, Sherlock," she told him with a serious expression, remaining standing as she was. "I'm not going to stand here and give you a five minute, bullet point speech on my feelings while you sit there barely even listening because you've already made up your mind. I want a conversation with Sherlock, not a back and forth performance with Professor Holmes. And I think I deserve that. You can't keep treating me like a student when it's convenient for you and like a person when you feel like it's okay. Haven't I... haven't we proven we're more than that at this point?" Despite her attempt at remaining stoic, vulnerability was written all over her face.
Sherlock's mask slipped with uncertainty, startled by Joanna's words. He had been prepared to break it down in a precise, polite argument, informing her that what they did had been a mistake and why it would be folly to continue and it would be best to just forget the whole matter and continue on as they had been. But she made him realise that it was far too late for that.
He looked away, giving her a small nod. He should have known better than to think she would let him brush it aside like it, like she, meant nothing. It was disrespectful and cruel, but he honestly didn't know how to be kind.
"You're right," he sighed, looking up at her once more. "You must know by now that I am not very good with people. Or relationships for that matter. It's not my area," he admitted ruefully.
"I don't know the proper etiquette for this. I don't do... this!" He flapped his hand between them, fully losing his composure in front of her. But she confounded him like no one had before, made him feel things he had rather stayed locked up after his last cock up of a relationship, if that word even properly described what he had with Irene.
"Talking. Feelings. I don't..." He slumped in defeat, kicking his legs out and going limp. "But I do know," he said in a softer, resigned tone. "That neither of us can afford this risk. I want to see you succeed Joanna, I sincerely do, and I will continue to help you if you allow me to. But what happened earlier cannot happen again. For both our sakes."
Joanna resisted the urge to bite down on her bottom lip, determined to keep a steady expression of maturity. He wasn't saying he didn't want her. He practically admitted he had feelings for her. That was something.
"Are you saying that because you mean it or because you 'don't do relationships'?" she asked him, finally coming over to the desk. Instead of just sitting down, however, she pulled her chair over so they were directly facing each other with no desk between them, knees just a few inches apart, and then took a seat.
"Because... well, I don't think it's fair that a school rule book gets to decide what we feel and who we touch. And neither of us are stupid. No one would ever have to know; I don't have any friends to get suspicious of me anyways. We won't do anything on campus anymore. I won't even come during office hours if you want. We could meet at Angelo's and your flat, or somewhere else all together. We'd keep it secret."
She paused, eyes flickering down to her hands. "I know I'm asking for a lot. I know I'm being selfish, and probably foolish too. But... is it really that easy for you to just say 'it's not worth it?' I mean, if I'm not..."
She pressed her lips together as she searched for the right words. "I don't just have sex with people on a whim, you know. If it's not with a person that matters to me. It wasn't just 'something that happened' for me. Or at least, I didn't want it to be. But if I got that wrong, then... well, then I guess this conversation is both moot and mildly embarrassing for me, isn't it?"
She laughed a bit, her cheeks heating up as she looked down again to hide her eyes as much as possible under her fringe. She didn't normally do this kind of thing. If someone said they wanted out, she usually was even willing to open the door for them. But this... she couldn't. Not without even trying.
Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose while biting back a groan. Why did Joanna have to make it so difficult? Her feelings were inconvenient and unfortunate while he didn't even know what he felt about her. Attraction, most assuredly. Affection; possibly. But enough to risk losing all that he had rebuilt over the past five years?
"Yes, because you failing your classes for the chemical rush provided by orgasm and sentimentality is so worth it! Please Joanna, you are not this naive. Can you honestly afford to lose the only place where you can study. I am not worth you screwing up your chances to get into med school," he said through grit teeth, leaning in closer, just refraining himself from grabbing her shoulders and shaking some sense into her.
"Can you honestly say it will be worth it? You don't even know me! I am only what you want me to be. You know nothing about me."
"Yeah, but not because I don't want to!" Joanna shouted, her face flooding with colour. "You are so not what I want you to be, I can tell you that. You're arrogant and infuriating and oblivious and oh, yes, a professor, and trust me none of those are what I'd call an ideal. Bloody hell, I'm not some teenager with a pathetic infatuation latching on to the first bloke who gives me a pretty smile. I want to know more about you, that's the point. If we end it now I never will. Although, you're so damn secretive I'm not even sure I would if we didn't end it. You know so much about me and then you never..."
She sighed, slumping back into her chair a bit and running her fingers through her hair. She'd let her frustration get the better of her. Was she being naive? She'd thought coming here she was in the right, but maybe she was just so keen to go against convention for the sake of it that she wasn't thinking clearly. She was asking someone to risk losing their entire livelihood for her sake, after all. Risk her entire future on something she didn't even know would work out or not. He just made her feel right when she'd gone for so long feeling so out of place. And she'd been so hesitant to trust anyone since Sebastian...
Joanna sat up as the thought made her nearly sick, other thoughts quickly spiraling out of control once the first had taken hold. Oh god, was that what she was doing? Was she just... projecting a need onto Sherlock because she was attracted to him and she actually was damaged and he was there? She thought she was better than that, but suddenly her thoughts and feelings were swimming in doubt and it scared the hell out of her.
"Am I being ridiculous?" she asked him with worry, like he could give her answers to her own head. "Do you really feel like I'm... idealizing?" She never thought herself the type, but suddenly she was shaken with a painful amount of self-doubt that made her irrationally angry with herself that she always let people in and it was always the wrong choice.
Sherlock clenched his hands around the armrest of his chair, suddenly conflicted. She was being completely ridiculous. While he did feel that she was being naive, she obviously managed to convince herself of a fallacy, judging from the sudden shift. The kind thing to do would be to assure her that she was wrong and to let herself prove her convictions, no matter how damning it would be. It was a staggering thing, the sudden realisation that he wanted her to know him. He could show her so much, give her so much. There could be no better than he for her. But... it would also be a kindness to convince her that she was only falling for an ideal. Then again, if she knew the truth about him... he would rather she walk away now then to let her under his skin well and truly, only for her to abandon him in disgust.
"I do," he said softly, molding his tone to be sympathetic. "Is it because I have kept things from you that you don't know me or because you never asked? I have seen the questions in your eyes, but you never inquire and I have never given you any indication that you could not ask, have I? The start of our relationship was my helping you out of a hard spot. Then again when you ran into your ex. I have become your rescuer, but am I honestly more than that? You needed someone to save you, to be your knight in shining armour, but I am afraid that in reality, I do not fit that bill. Yes, I got carried away and I took advantage of those feelings. For that I owe you an apology."
Each sentence felt like a stab wound. A mortal wound, as he deliberately pushed her away. But he had to. He was already in too deep and later he would truly hate himself, but he was doing the right thing, and not just for himself. Joanna would ruin him, but he would ruin her in return and he could not do that to the only person he could call a friend in his life. No, this was the kindest path even though it was the harder one.
Joanna honestly felt like she couldn't breathe for a moment. She'd never asked him anything because the look on his face when she got anywhere near his past had made her think she shouldn't. But maybe... maybe part of that had just been she, on some subconscious level, hadn't wanted to know? That sounded wrong, so wrong, but if Sherlock honestly felt like that was how she'd been treating him, then she couldn't say it was invalid. Especially if it was trauma that was making her act this way, which would cloud her thoughts and judgement.
She remembered the way Harry shouted and raved about not having a problem, being the only one who couldn't see it while everyone else was hurt by it, and she did not want to be that. Still, it hurt. Oh god it hurt. To think that so much of what she'd thought was feelings, what she thought was her maybe finally finding happiness all just equated back to Sebastian. Sherlock had said he still had power over her, and it made her want to throw up to think that he was right and this was how it was projecting. She was totally disgusted with herself.
"No, I..." Joanna trailed off, her expression lost and her voice weak. "I mean, it's okay. I'm sorry if I... put you into an uncomfortable situation. I didn't realize I was acting that way. Leaning on you. I didn't mean to."
She grabbed for her bag and stood up, suddenly finding the smell in the air and the dimensions of the office absolutely suffocating. She had to get away. "I need to go. I won't bring it up again. I'm... I'm really sorry." She moved towards the door, trying to keep her thoughts from falling apart in her head completely. If she couldn't even trust her own feelings, what the hell could she trust anymore?
Sherlock forced himself to remain completely still and watch her fight within herself. He viciously fought the urge to jump to his feet, to stop her, to discredit everything he said and claim her for his own. But he did no such thing.
"Joanna..." Sherlock closed his eyes with brief regret, though she could not see him. "Sawyer is a decent fellow. Boring, but decent. Don't cancel on him. I think..." Sherlock swallowed and forced himself to lie. "He would be best for you, if you need that sort of thing. At the very least there will be no pretense with him. It's a clean break and one you should take."
Sherlock didn't know if she would heed him or not, but despite being hard working and clever in her own right, Joanna needed people. Not many, but a few, some connection. He didn't want her to belong to anyone like that who was not him, but to have her was to lose himself. Never again.
When she left, he remained completely still for a few minutes, simply breathing in the nauseating smell of cigarette smoke. When it all became too much though, he flung himself from his chair to slam his hands against the top of his desk. The impact jarred him to the bone but it was not enough. With a primal yell he wrecked havoc on everything within his reach, throwing books and and knocking his desk clear. The only thing he did not take his ire on was his violin.
Joanna managed to keep it together until she made it back to her dorm room. Blessedly, her roommate was out. Lights still off, Joanna crawled under the covers of her bed, pulling them over her head and curling into a small ball. Maybe she was doomed to suffer unhealthy relationships until she died. Those were the only ones that ever seemed to do anything for her, to excite her, she thought with disgust. Maybe Sebastian had screwed her up worse than she thought. Maybe Sherlock was a total arse for fucking her when he thought she was clinging to him for stability. Maybe maybe maybe...
Not knowing, or not even sure if she didn't know, her own head was a terrible feeling. Thinking she was weak for allowing herself to fall into that pathetic, clingy victim stereotype made her hateful. How was she supposed to heal if she didn't even know she wasn't already fine? She'd known when she was broken, and when she was miserable, and being with Sherlock had never made her feel any of those things. But was that just the dependence talking? What was even the difference between emotions and trauma? How did she know?
'I will not stand to hear about one more idiot touching you when the only one who should be is me.' 'You are beautiful.' The deep, resounding words Sherlock had growled, filled with desire and heat (or so she had thought) played back in her head, and Joanna couldn't stop the sob that wretched its way from her chest. When she was done crying, she picked up her mobile and looked at the directory taped to her dorm wall. With shaking hands, she dialed the counselling center and left a message to make an appointment. She could not allow herself such weakness anymore, no matter how much she loathed to reach out.