A/N: okay so here's the thing. When I incially wrote my first story "arguments, decisions and unexpected vistors" it was supposed to be the only one, but then a nice reviewe left me a kind review asking me to write more. So I did, that's how the series "Moments" when I continued writing this stories another person left a review, this time on Tumblr, asking me to write the "how Joan and Sherlock became a couple" and even though I didn't want to write it I couldn't stop thinking about it so I came up with this idea; Joan and Sherlock met before, in a different situation, in a different place and he made up a story about him that was not real just because he felt like being someone else for a night, and then he met Joan and they made a connection. Like they both felt there was something there, and they clicked. That's how everything started. This story is how everything begun.

This story is also part of my Alternative Universe in which Joan and Sherlock are together. The rest of the stories will be after this, after the situations of this story took place.

Please don't forget to review and to read my other stories as well.

Fran

She was excited, eager and nervous at the same time. Meeting a new client always freaked her out a bit, maybe because some of them weren't very happy to have someone following them around virtually every single moment. Others, though, like her last one, were grateful for receiving as much help as they could during that hard process.

"I'm telling you Joanie, we should celebrate you had another satisfied client and you got a new job." her friend Emily told her, while they shared a cup of coffee at home. "There's this new club…"

"No, no parties and no clubs." Joan told her, shaking her head at her best friends suggestion.

"Why not? Come on, Joanie, it would be fun." Emily insisted, her eagerness and happiness forced Joan to accept, plus the smile on her face made her change her mind quickly. "Besides we will only stay on for a little while, I promise."

"Fine, but only with one condition. Just for an hour or two."

"Perfect."
Xxxxxxx

He dropped his bag on his already made and clean bed. Looking at his surroundings, to the familiar white painting on the walls, the hospital-looking room (even the smell resembled it, something he would not forget very easily) he sighed with relief. His two months were due, he had done what his father had asked him (ordered him) and he was now a brand new, drug free man. He was proud of himself, being able to put up with so many sappy stories, people sharing about their personal experiences spreading others with never-ending sadness was infuriating. He had managed, hence the pride, not to throw up on their faces as they spoke.

He had no excuse for his drug use. He had nothing and no one to blame, he had done everything on his own because he wanted to. Unlike others who blame their tragedies, their tough lives, on others, he didn't. Other than having lost someone he cared about, which he refused to talk about, nothing more had forced him to become a drug addict. No one had forced him to enter rehab either, except for his father, just because he was ashamed of what his only son had become.

But now he was out of it. He had put this chapter of his life out of the way, now he was moving on, into the new Sherlock Holmes.

Except now it was Sherlock plus companion. Sadly, to him, being clean meant someone walking along with him for the next seven months to assure he was, in fact, clean. That was a step he couldn't avoid, much to his dismay.

"So, Holmes, you got a place to stay, dude?" Rolan asked him. The only friend he had made inside the facility was an ex-professor, who had lost his way after getting fired from his last place of work and had managed to not only become a drug addict, but also lose his family in the process. The only reason why they had become friends, was because he was the only one who didn't feel sorry for himself and blamed only himself for his fate.

"Yes. My father owns a house in the city." Sherlock told him, packing his last remaining items as he spoke.

"Awesome." Rolan spoke. "So me and a few boys were planning a little bit of a celebration now that we're out, just clubbing for a little while. Wanna join us?"

"I don't think clubbing is the right way to celebrate, for us." Sherlock told him.

"If you're talking about the temptations and willpower, I think this is the best way of testing exactly that". the man responded. Sherlock hesitated for a minute before giving him an answer.

He was right about testing their willpower now they were out, and he did need fresh air and a new environment.

"Fine, I'll go." Sherlock responded. "Only for a couple of hours"

"Excellent." Rolan answered. "I'll tell the boys."

She could hear the music from miles away, even a few blocks before actually being there, the sound was so loud her heart pounded with the beat. She had forgotten the last time she had gone out with her friends, it had been years probably, when they celebrated passing an exam or saving someone from an upcoming dead. Now, after the last events in her life, she felt there wasn't really a reason to celebrate or even to go out, too many memories of her doctor days perhaps.

They reached the club, the line outside was never-ending, but Emily somehow had managed to get them inside without having to stand outside in the cold.

If the music outside was loud, inside was ten times worse. She had to stop herself from covering her ears as they walked in, Emily holding her arm tightly.

She looked at her surroundings; the club was crowded with young boys and girls dancing at the beat. The bar, just like the dance floor, was packed. Joan suddenly felt very out of place.

"I'm gonna get a few drinks, okay?" Emily yelled, that being the only way of actually talking to one another.

"Sure!" Joan yelled back, watching as her friend disappeared among the crowd.
She stood in the same spot for ten minutes before deciding to move further into it.

The minute he stepped inside the packed loud club, he regretted it. His head was spinning from the smoke and the loud music pounding in his ears.
Why his friend would decide this was a good way of celebrating being out of rehab was beyond him. And why he had accepted was another.

"I'm gonna get some drinks." Rolan yelled, Sherlock grabbed his arm before he could move further "Coke, not alcohol."

He was gone, into the sea of people, before he could say another word.

That's when he saw her, standing a few feet away from him, looking as lost and out of place as he was. Long dark hair cascading down her back in the dim light, he felt his feet gravitating immediately towards her for some strange reason, unable to control the sudden urge to know the woman before him.

She saw him standing a few feet away from her, felt his eyes on her and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. He stared at her, like a hawk, his eyes boring her very soul, she trembled when he took slow steps towards her but didn't move away when he approached, and in fact she was secretly dying for him to move closer.

"Hello." he spoke. Her insides melted at the sound of his British accent, but even more when she could see his dark blue eyes shining.

"Hi." she greeted him.

"You look as lost as I am." Sherlock told her, a playful smile on his face. She smiled back, nodding slowly.

"Yes, that's because I am." she responded. "I haven't done this in forever."

"Me too." he spoke. "Are you alone?"

"No, I'm with a friend. You?"

"Yes, he's…" He looked around, realizing Rolan had been gone for way too long, he frowned when he didn't spot him. "Lost in the sea of people, I believe."

"I think we have both lost a friend." Joan spoke, imitating Sherlock's moves. Emily was nowhere to be found.

"I can't say I didn't see that coming." he confessed. She laughed softly. Somehow he found that to be the sweetest, most perfect sound in the world. He blamed the fact that he hadn't been with a woman in almost seven months, or perhaps she was in fact as fascinating and beautiful as he thought.

"I'm Joan." she introduced herself, rising her hand. He hesitated, and then took it firmly between his own

"I'm…Steve" he spoke quickly.

There was no explanation as to why he lied, why he felt the need to disguise himself as someone else, but for tonight it felt right. He didn't want to be Sherlock 'the drug addict', he wanted to be Steve, someone with no past at all.

"Nice to meet you, Steve." she greeted, allowing her hand to linger a little bit longer between his strong one, feeling a warmth travelling from the tip of her finger and into her soul.

"Would you like to go out, away from here?" he asked her, finding a brand new personality in this persona, as if he were someone new.

"Yes." she responded quickly, taking aback by her own boldness. He was, after all, a stranger and she never went out with strangers. Him, however, made her feel safe for some reason.

They walked out together, their hands barely touching but enough to feel each other's warmth.

Tbc

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