Mortar & Stone: an Elementary fanfiction

Chapter 5

Joan stood, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror.

Get it together Joan. Tom is out there. Tom is perfect. Nothing is ever going to happen with Sherlock.

A woman in a sequinned dress walked in and Joan straightened up. Opening her clutch, she reapplied her plum-red lipstick, took a deep breath, and walked out.

Tom was there, waiting. "Dance?" He asked, smiling. A trumpet was squawking out the buoyant solo of an old Nat King Cole song. It was a cheerful beat, one that made its way into your fingers and feet.

"Sure." As she put her hand in his, her eyes sought out Sherlock. She thought she caught a glimpse of his wiry frame moving through the crowd, but then lost it. As soon as she stepped onto the dance floor, Tom lifted her arm and twirled her around. She laughed as he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her tightly to him, her cheeks instantly flushing red. At 6'2, he was a good foot higher than Joan, even in her towering heels. As they danced, his hips moved against hers, and she had to bite her lip against the sudden rush of desire.

"I know I've been neglecting you tonight, I'm sorry." Tom swept a length of her dark hair over one shoulder, lightly brushing the skin at the nape of her neck with his fingernails.

She shivered under his touch, "I understand. This is your big gig."

"I'm all yours now, I promise," he said with a heated gaze.

"I hope so."

He bent down, tilting his head slightly to the right, and took her lips in his. Even though it was slow and tender, she felt all his desire for her poured into that kiss, and it set a fire in her belly.

When they broke apart Joan glanced around, "Everyone's looking," she said.

"Let them look. Might score me a few extra brownie points with the boys club," he grinned cheekily.

She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, "You're bad."

"You have no idea. Come home with me." He had her pinned with his captivating blue eyes, so all Joan could do was nod. Tom took her hand, and they made their way to the coat room.

"I should probably tell Sherlock we're leaving," Joan said, looking over her shoulder.

"Too late, I'm afraid," Tom said, picking up his dark grey overcoat and scarf, "I saw him leave not long ago."

"Oh," she frowned, wondering why Sherlock didn't think to tell her. "Was he with someone?"

"Not sure," he said turning his back to her, "Let's go."

They walked out onto the street, still damp from the rain, and Tom signalled for a taxi.

"No limo this time?" Joan asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted. "That was just for show."

They got into the taxi, Tom told the driver the address, and as soon as the car was on its way, Tom leant over, gently kissing the sensitive spot under her ear. Sweeping a hot wet tongue along her earlobe, he took it between his teeth, scraping softly. Joan hummed, and it took all her self-control to push him back.

"Can it wait til we get home?" She said with an apologetic look, glancing at the driver, who was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the road.

Tom straightened up, smoothing his hair and jacket. "Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, "Can't help myself."

She gave him a small smile and took his hand.

They arrived at his apartment building, passing the doorman Mr Montes, who gave them a "Good evening, Sir - Madame," as they stepped into the elevator.