Memories are funny things. They can come and go. Memories are like diaries. We store everything in there. Good ones and bad ones. But what happens when those memories are taken from us?
Joan was in the cocina making some coffee to wake herself up. She didn't hear Sherlock sneaking up behind her. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close
"Good morning"
"Morning"
"Your up early"
"Yeah i couldn't really sleep"
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah must just be one of those nights"
Sherlock began to kiss the back of her neck and run his hand through her hair. She lent back into him and sighed with...
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