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The street lamp flickers creepily, making the light vanish then reappear countless times, yet, it still isn’t a reliable source of light.
You sigh, as the corner of the street side becomes engulfed in darkness once more, hating the silence the night air brings.
“Stupid buss….” You mumble, checking your watch for the thousand time, seeing the seconds tick passed, and yet, still no sign on the London City Bus.
Late then, so it seems. You try not to frown, knowing if there was a delay in the transport then something might be wrong.
Curse your curios thirst for a case. You find yourself beginning to take small, hesitant footsteps, towards where the buss might be coming from.
The streets are quiet, while many people are so busy during the day, once the sun falls away, so does the presence of most of the London citizens. It’s quite remarkable, as the once crowded streets of London’s’ mane point, is mostly deserted, left to look like a ghost town.
You feel a small shiver crawl down your spine, and you pull your oversized cloak closer across your body, searching for any heat.
Taking a small left, you squint once you notice movement not too far away, and your heart begins to beat a tad faster. You instinctively reach for your gun, but there isn’t anything there, and you frown, abandoning the idea of being protected.
At least, you know how to protect yourself, in there had to be anything drastic.
Once you get closer, you see the distinctive blue bus, parked there, as if it has been doing so all day, the owner seemingly forgotten about all the responsibilities.
Quite unusual, and you begin to doubt the safety of being alone, at night.
“H-Hello?” You muster up the courage, you voice coming out uncertain.
Nothing replies, and your word narrows to that one little spot, where a person seems to be standing, quiet, not moving, yet, most defiantly watching you, intensely.
You watch the person back, waiting. The word seems too quiet, so still. It’s overwhelming. “L-Look,” You begin, taking a deep and steady breath. “This is an inconvenience,”
“As if, you’re a cop, aren’t you?” The voice is mocking, yet deep, a baritone.
You blink, taking aback the sudden casualness of the person, male. You straighten up, finally once your brain catches up to you, “Wait,” you begin, “You…how did you know I was…”
“A cop?” The male asks, tilting his head slightly. You shake your head, making him slightly falter. “Here, how did you know I was here.” You end, clarifying, and you see something in the stranger’s eye twinkle, as the person in the shadows step closer, his pale skin revealed under the low light.
“I’m not inclined to speak about that,” He begins, a small smirk on his face, “But, going by your usual schedule, it’s not unusual to see you at this our, quite predictable actually, boring.” He dismisses, turning away, and as casually as he showed himself, the stranger begins to walk of, towards the darker ends of the alleyway.
You stutter, “Wait…how did you know about my schedule…” Before you could say anything else, the mysterious stranger is gone, leaving you alone by the alleyway.
“Oh, just a heads up,” The voice is back, and quite more closer to you, and you turn around, catching the glimpse of dark curls, “Don’t go into that bus,”
“Well, why not?” You question, a tad annoyed at the mans’ constant span of playing games. “Because there might be a dead body inside or something?” You ask in a playful way, not really all that serious.
The stranger smiles then, and really, if you saw him in the daylight, maybe you’d find him quite attractive.
“Well then, aren’t you clever, yes, and if you would be so find, not to interfere with my research, thank you.”
Then, he’s gone, and your left alone once more.
Not truly believing the mysterious man, but also curious, you walk slowly towards the blue buss, and, lifting up onto your tippy toes, you glance into the inside of the buss.
Glancing around, your eyes rake over the seemingly abandoned chairs, the slightly dirty floors, then, towards the drivers seat, seeing the still, and lifeless body of what appears to be a bus driver.
You gasp, but, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. There must be more, you think, and begin walking around the bus, mind wondering.
‘Why, would the killer leave no traces of any motives?” You ask yourself out loud, bending down to gaze underneath the large buss, seeing nothing but the workings of the vehicle.
“…There must be more…”
But, sadly, you never intended to look through a bus for any clews to solving a murder this late at night, so your sleuthing would have to continue tomorrow, in daylight….
Next Morning~~
After a good cup of coffee, a clean shower, and a small sweet pastry by the bakery nearby, you’re on your merry way towards where the crime scene would be at, your scratch pad and a couple mints in your pocket providing you the confidence to cross the streets towards the yellow tape line.
“Police I.D.” The person wearing a safety jacket speaks, holding up his hand in a stopping motion.
You huff, fishing inside your back pocket, taking out an old, yet well looked after badge, giving the officer a look.
“Officer L/N, I’m always asked for this….don’t I look like a cop to you?”
The male looks carefully at the I.D. squinting a little, and makes a sound of disagreement. “You look like a school girl,” He dismisses, making you gasp.
“How do I look like a bloody-“ You begin to blurt out, but somebody hastily shoves you out the way, mumbling to himself.
Dark hair….you notice your eyes glued to the hurrying male, spotting his distinctive dark curls, and a tall demeanor.
Your mind shuts off for only a moment, watching the male with intensity.
“Hey,” A girl, with rather unflattering curly hair, speaks with a sense of bitterness, pointing towards the male, “ Freak is here.”
The male turns around suddenly, his light blue orbs like crystals, piercing the girl with a gaze that’s mostly intimidating.
“Shut it Donovan, or I’ll kindly point out what position you found yourself in ‘scrubbing’ Andersons’ floor, yesterday afternoon.”
His voice is deep, a baritone so soothing, making you shiver.
Yup, same male you saw last night, only this time, in the daylight, yes, indeed, he is very attractive.
“Wow…” You breathe out, feeling yourself flush a little.
Then, those crystal orbs turn towards your breathless voice, and he raises his eyebrow, looking at you like a wolf.
Inserted, ready to charge and hunt down you.
And damn, as if you didn’t like that predatory gaze dragging over your body, slowly.
“Bankrupted. Looking for a way to get out of your knee deep debt….also has a bit of a sweet tooth…prefers her coffee black,” The male dismisses, turning back towards the other female, leaving you there, dumbfounded.
“How…” You begin, startled.
The male seems to not be too interested in your stuttering, and instead, moves towards the crime scene.
He’s long gone, by the time you shake yourself out if your surprise.
“W-wait!” You say, running towards the male, taking much larger steps to catch up to him.
The male just gives you a side glance, and rolls his eyes, while you begin to speak, “Hey, you were the shady guy from last night!”
“Shady guy?” He repeats, squinting. He stops his movement, so sudden it makes you stumble and bump into his slightly dangly figure.
You flush, stuttering an apology, yet you note the firmness and steadiness his body has, the hidden strength he must possess shines through.
“You are clumsy,” He states, dusting off his shoulder, making you slightly offended.
“Obviously,” You say, folding your arms, finally remembering who this strange man was, but it took you a while, because he’s not wearing the hat.
“But you must have already knew that, Mr. Holmes.”
Sherlock glares at you, raking his eyes left then right, wondering who else must have heard you.
“Aren’t you supposed to at university?”
You completely ignore his comment, and, instead, point out that he’s averting your conversation.
“Nice hit, but no, I need the money,” You begin, “And anyway, what are you, Sherlock Holmes, detective and brilliant crime solver, spending his downtime at a lone bus stop? At quarter passed nine at night, might I ad,”
Sherlock just looks at you, then,
“My intention wasn’t stalking you…..” The sentence sounds stranded, but the truth none the less, “I was merely searching for answers.”
You raise an eyebrow, “For this case?”
“Actually,” Another voice begins, and Officer Lestrade pops out of no where, making you heart jump, “He’d been sent there, by me.”
The both of you turn towards the silver haired man, and you and Sherlock stand a little too close, yet you don’t move away. You can feel his shoulder brushing against yours, and the heat is quite comforting.
Lestrade looks between the two of you, saying nothing more.
“Exactly! And I’ve indeed found our killer!” Sherlock cheers triumphantly, so sudden you jump.
He moves away, and the older Inspector first spares you a glance, then leaves, following the sociopath.
“Hey freak,” Donovan says, walking passed the two males, one who ignores her more than the other, but she finally comes to you, her cold eyes setting upon you, then proceeds to start glaring at you.
“You, you’re not supposed to be here, dropout,”
The comment hurts, and you wince, and Donovan smirks down at you, “Looks like there wasn’t enough space at the mall cop department for your fat ass,”
“Hey now, heel Donovan,” A male, with sandy blonde hair speaks, walking up too the two of you ladies, giving the both of you a bright, charming smile, “Both of you stunning young ladies shouldn’t be rivals.”
“Well, ain’t my fault you dropped out, loser.” With that, the curly haired female leaves, her hips swaying in a sickly sassy way.
You sigh, turning towards the male, not wanting to be rude, but still annoyed somebody had to step in and ‘save you’.
“I was perfectly capable of handling the situation.” You argue, setting your mouth into a firm smile, as the male just chuckles warmly, tilting his head, “I see so….” He gives you a look of puzzlement, then, “Wait, where are my manners? Dr. John Watson,” He holds out his hand, smile dazzling, “You must be?...”
“John! Come here!” A voice barks, and it can only be the male with the dark curly hair, as he trots over to where the two of you are, “You can do your flirting on a later base! Besides,” Sherlock seems to flush, and in embarrassment or anger, you’re not sure, “She’s young.”
“Sherlock,” John sighs annoyingly, “Stop being an arse.”
The male in question fumes, and walks away, stomping his feet a little, but does his job of decoding the crime scene beautifully.
You giggle, shaking your head, “He’s just being Sherlock.” Your eyes linger on his frame, and John notices the way your cheeks flush, and a bright, learning smile begins to form on his face.
~
Sherlock Holmes first met you, when you were at the tender age of 18, just out of school, and ambitions reaching no limits.
It was at a crime scene, where a lady in pink laid motionless on the ground of an abandoned apartment floor.
You were busy talking to one of the forensic team members, desperate to come up with a way to look useful, but you were only the ‘intern’, fetching the real hero’s anything they needed.
Well, you had to start somewhere.
While busy speaking with Anderson, your eyes caught sight of a shadowy figure, rushing passed, yet his voice of velvet washed over you, and make your attention snap to where the male was, mumbling to himself, along with another short male, with much lighter hair.
You stared, no other word for it, only stared, as he strode passed, confidence hanging over him like an elegant coat.
He never spared you a glance though, instead, he made a point of ignoring you, walking right passed.
You tried not to feel offended, yet the emotion was evident on your face none the less, stupid emotions.
“Y/N! Did you just hear what I said?” Anderson yelled, stapping you out of your daze, and your attention shot back to the angry looking male, and you smiled, nodding, “Of course I was, how could I not listen to your, ah, soothing voice.”
~
After the buss scene, Sherlock had become a somewhat reappearance in your daily life, and thoughts.
How could he not? His dark curls, brightly blue orbs, along with that deep, baritone voice, was the star in your fantasies. Even if the man himself never so much as took a knowing to your existence, he still appeared at every crime scene you worked at, and really, catching his silhouette was quite thrilling, also the fact of knowing he'd be seeing you too, even if he forgets a millisecond later that you were even there.
"Hey, ah,-" You stop in your tracks, cheeks flushing, as Sherlock turns towards you, eyes looking uninterested. "I,um, have a question for you," You begin terribly, trying to make small talk. Sherlock just rolls his eyes, but stays none the less, and you feel your heart begin to race.
"Well?" He asks, tilting his head. "Out with it,"
"I like your b-blog," You stutter, face flushing harder.
The male just stares at you, blinking dumbfound. "Thanks," He begins, face stoned, "But it is not my blog, it's Johns'-"
"No," You cut him off, biting your bottom lip, "Not the one where he records all his stories about the two of you's adventures...the one where...you explain your studies, ah, 'Science of Deduction?"
Then, something in Sherlocks' eyes spark, and he gives you a closer look, "Really, you've read that?"
He sounds generally interested now, and you give the detective a small smirk, watching how he seems to be all ears, finally. "Well, that's how I got to know you, I've read most of your posts,"
Now, doesn't that sound a little creepy or stalker ish? You try not to wince as you see his face scrunch up, and you hurriedly try and defend yourself, "I had this project to complete, and I needed a example of a blog you'd find with medical information-"
"What type of project is that for?" Now, Sherlock looks really confused, eyes sharp, "Sounds like a load of-"
"Bollocks," John pipes in, coming up swiftly from behind Sherlock, and proceeds to grab the detectives arm, giving him a slight glare, "I seem to have misplaced my wallet, how careless of me, Sherlock, will you kindly help me search for it?" He growls out, making a point on not wanting the much taller male to insult you, and Sherlock blinks, rolling his eyes, so oblivious and yet the whole thing is just so funny.
"John, it's in your left pocket-" Sherlock begins, ready to dismiss his flatmate, yet John only seems to shove Sherlock harder.
"Well damn! Thanks buddy, now, lets go find my wallet-" John looks overly cheery for some reason, his smile looking like it must physically hurt, yet you try not to laugh at his poor attempt at not behind so obvious.
"But John-" Sherlock whines, not understanding, looking like a lost child. John only shoves him to move along with him, smile straining even more now, not sparing you a glance.
"My wallet, Sherlock."
The two then leave, John seemingly pushing Sherlock out the way, away from you, but you try not look too down. Greg soon calls you over, and you try to ignore the whole incident all together.
"Bloody children." Greg grumbles, bending down to inspect another clear looking body, "At least he still gives the answers to the cases, otherwise, they'd be a total massive migraine."
You giggle, handing over the elastic gloves to the detective, smiling and not saying a word.
~
"Next time, instead of blurting like an arse, talk to her properly!" John scolds, giving Sherlock the look.
Sherlock glares back, and proceeds not to eat the food on his plate, instead rolling the pasta around with his fork, "It's just a crush," Sherlock shrugs, his words a flat tone "It will fade, it always does."
Molly had, Irene had, so, this one would also...right?
John stays silent, and for once, Sherlock begins to worry, if maybe his words aren't always truth.
~
A few weeks later, it's not Sherlock who gives in, nor you, to confess how you truly feel, oh no, for it is, in fact John, who just cant handle the tension anymore.
He feels like he could drown in the awkward tension.
~
And, that night, after yet another one of his days wasted by just tagging along one of Sherlocks' many failed attempts of wooing the girl, John finally sees the true reason why Sherlock has been taking on 'dull' or yet uninteresting and easy crimes.
She's there, all the time, and Sherlock has managed to look like a true stalker.
“Sherlock…go talk to her,” John insists, staring at his friend in anger, as a wane almost pops from his forehead. Sherlock in question, tries not to stare, or make it look obvious that he's indeed staring.
“John, shut up and listen. ” Sherlock begins, setting himself on the couch, face away from his angry flatmate. “I am a sociopath, that does not get interested in the female counterpart,”
Sherlock missed his friends’ dramatic eyeroll, so he continues on, tone dismissive. “Therefore, I am not interested in talking to some girl,”
“She's not just some girl, Sherlock. She fansies you, you idiot, and you’re very lucky, because she’s quite a catch, I mean, if she was interested in me, I’d totally ask her out!”
Sherlock then turns over, glaring at his flatmate. “As if, you’d probably want to just show off how incredibly smooth you are towards the opposite gender!”
“Oh…” John then beams, smiling evilly, “Are you jealous perhaps?”
“No.” Sherlock barks out, ignoring Johns’ playfulness, and turns his back towards his friend once more, ignoring him completely as he lays almost looking uncomfortably on the small lounge couch.
John smirks harder. “You are jealous~” John sing-songs, giggling to himself, and really, Sherlock doesn’t like this, feeling upcoming doom approaching swiftly.
“No, I am certainly not envious, nor as you call it jealous, because I am, in fact, not interested into dating.”
“It’s just one date Sherlock.” John stares hardly at the back end of his friend.
“Nope,” Sherlock shakes his head swiftly, “Can’t be bothered.”
Sherlock then hears the sound of his flatmate sigh out dramatically, and Johns’ footsteps become distant.
“Where are you going?” Sherlock sits up suddenly, watching how John hurriedly puts on his furry coat, making a show of ignoring him.
“Out,” Is all he says, then, he sets his mobile inside his back pocket, and proceeds to exit the flat, leaving Sherlock in a state of confusion.
"Wait, but what about the Dorrison Case? I need someone to vent to about this one," Sherlock explains, getting up from his position, following his blonde blogger towards the stairs, only stopping just outside his door.
John rolls his eyes harder, "Sherlock, this case isn't the only problem here," He explains, trotting down the stairs, making a point on being extremely loud with his footsteps. Sherlock his groans, "What could be more important that work?"
"Having emotions Sherlock, caring, but, obviously, you're just too blind in your pride to admit it." The statement leaves Sherlock in shock, and John ignores it.
"Unlike you, Sherlock, I can't see people suffer with unrequited love, so I'm going to her, and telling her myself."
Those words alone, make Sherlock' very core tense in horror, and he lunches himself at John, with a bark of a harsh "No!" and the two tumble down the remaining staircase.
John doesn't speak to Sherlock for a whole week after that one, even after Sherlock makes him abandon amount of tea.
~
A few weeks later.~~~
"John and I need your assistance," That's how your morning starts, and you blink rapidly, looking at the dark haired detective with a question face. He stares back, looking slightly nervous for some reason.
It's too early to care.
While the people around you are busy working, you stare at the male, not processing what he'd just said.
Until, it finally hits you,
Sherlock is at your work, in your office. Well, not office, more like work space, or more like room where there is a tabletop, a printer, and a coffee machine, all you need really.
But, he's still here, sitting there on the half broken stool, looking utterly panicked.
What did he ask again?
"An outing," Sherlock explains, looking a little lost, "Where we need to discuss...work related issues, along with dinner, and a free movie...if you are interested, if it is inconvenient to come, I demand an answer."
You blink again, willing your heart to just jump out your rib-cage and into the mans' uninterested arms.
Not now, Y/N, patience. It's just like he said, an outing, possibly not even relating to any romance-"
"There won't be anybody else," Sherlock says, "Just you, me, and John." Sherlock is quickly to set John, his trusty blogger into the picture, and you wince, tilting your head, "Why exactly do you need me?" You question, knowing there are better, possibly more professional people Sherlock could ask for help, yet, he's chosen you?
Then, Sherlock turns pale, and for a moment, you see his mask crack, and he puts on a face of confusion,
"Ah, well...I wasn't expecting you to ask that..." He trails off, looking even more lost and confused. You sit there, listening to the coffee machine wiring to life, and try not smile at the thought of fresh, lovely coffee.
"Then, I shall say this, because John told me if I was ever stuck on something, I should just say the truth," Then, Sherlock takes a deep breathe, and leans a little closer, making you blush at his close proximity. "Its' a matter of utmost importance, if you accompany me, on a night were we spend time together, and I do highly recommend you join me for dinner, this Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday...."
You blink, processing his shaky words, then, you sit up straighter, "Like a date?" You chirp, smiling slightly.
"No!" Sherlock panics, and you shrink into your chair, looking hurt. Sherlock sees this, and clears his throat, looking anywhere but at you, face flushing, "Ah, if you would like to call it that, then yes...a date..."
"With John coming to?" You try, sitting up a little straighter, trying to lighten the mood. Sherlocks' lip twitches, like he's holding back a smile, "He's only coming if you'd like him to, he says he's rather intersted in also getting to know you better."
"You, want to know me?" You whisper mostly to yourself, in disbelieving.
Sherlock brings his walls up again, and merely lets out a choked noice, "No! I'm just..."
"Sherlock! Are we done here?!" John comes then around the corner, looking like he'd been standing there this whole time, "I've got work in the next two minutes!"
The male in question rolls his eyes, and stands up with grace, brushing off the crinkles in his fabulous suit, "Well Y/N, as you can see, I have run out of time-"
"You were blabbering the whole time, you bloody fool!-"
"Bye bye for now!" Sherlock waves at you, smiling brightly, "I'll pick you up quarter to eight, on Friday afternoon, Ta!"
Friday, brought to you, by Chibi Moriaty ,~~
"Marry, I don't think this is necessary..." you fidget lightly, trying to not bust out in panic, as your friend smirks from behind, the mirror in front of you catching her reflection. "This type of clothing isn't seen as proper."
Marry rolls her eyes, "As if anything nowadays isn't proper, this is so totally something you must do, to get any boys attention~"
"But Marry," You whine, turning to face the blonde, eyes wide, "Sherlock isn't just any boy, he's an intelligent, highly functional sociopath... his words precisely."
Yet, the other female just seems to giggle, and gives your outfit a once over, "Not with those tights on, I'm sure Sherlock will be plenty much in touch with his boyhood, after he sees you in these!~"
You blush harder, proceeding to toss a eyeliner at your flatmate, and she dodges it perfectly, your aim not much to be envied. "Now then, how about you give us a smile? If anything, if he decides to be a total arse, you could use your heals to stab him."
"Damn, not a tad bit violent?" You say, yet knowing your friend is only joking. Mary has a gleam in her eye, giving you a kind smile, "Only for you love, I'll make sure he regrets being born if he tries to hurt you,"
You try and feel touched, and less creept out.
~
At exactly forty-five minutes past seven, there's a knock on the door, and your heart jumps. You haven't been on a date in while, so this could make or break your carefully constructed friendship with the unlikely hero of London, and keeper of your heart.
"Coming!" You say, checking one last time in the mirror, and trying not to cringe. You look quite stunning really, yet you prefer something a bit more casual...being hasty, you quickly slip on a pair of sneakers instead of the high heels, knowing you'd prefer the comfort rather than the style.
There's another knock on your door, slightly more hurried, and you roll your eyes at Sherlocks' lack of patience.
"I'm coming dammit," You grumble out, rolling your eyes, finally making your way towards the door, the knocking on the door proceeding to loud, uncontrollable banging.
You find yourself hesitant to answer the door, but, reminding yourself it's not anyone other than Sherlock, you proceed to unlock the door, opening it, swallowing a lump in your throat as the door creaks open.
Nobody is there.
"...Sherlock?" You whisper, looking out into the empty street, feeling goosebumps rise over your skin, "Hello?" your breathe ghosts into the night air, creating a small cloud of silver smoke. "Anybody...there?"
The streets are deserted, and something in the pit of your stomach drops, and, for only a moment, you realize, Sherlock is never on time.
Sherlock wasn't the one by your door.
You slam your door shut, quickly enough to rattle the frames on the stale walls. Mary isn't here, so she can't be much help, or comfort, and instead, you feel yourself panic, knowing your alone, in a flat, with most of the windows left open.
Shit.
Running into the lounge, you proceed to shut all the open windows, not forgetting to lock, just in case, just to be sure. You also make sure to switch on all the lights, finding comfort in the lack of darkness.
There, all the windows are shut, you can breathe easy now.
Another knock on the door startles you, and you jump onto the couch, freezing completely.
Then, you hear a voice, yet it's familiar, comforting, "Y/N, I have come to escort you to our, ah, date...."
His unsure tone makes your heart melt, and you chuckle softly to yourself, the strange happenings swept from your mind, it was probably just somebody lost, looking for directions, and seeing that you never answered, presumed you weren't home, and moved on.
Being a cop has really made your nerves stand on end, perhaps you should find another, more calming choice of work, but, you did like proving to yourself you're capable of being like your heroes.
You make your way to the door, trying to talk yourself into acting confident, and, once you reach the door, you unlock, and great the male with a bright, yet strained looking smile.
"Sherlock, hello," You state, smiling brightly up at the taller male.
Sherlock gives you a once over, then proceeds to give you a double take, blinking rapidly, making you giggle slightly at his obvious display of shock.
"Yes, I know, a little too fancy, but Mary talked me into it."
"You look stunning." Sherlock says, to himself it seems, as he just stares at you, eyes a darker shade of brilliant blue, "Gorgeous even..."
His lack of sugar coating is quite surprising, and you stutter at his blunt flirting, yet not minding at all, in fact, you love it, and smile even brighter, standing a little more straighter, making the tightly structured clothes cling onto your curves a little more.
Sherlocks eyes widen even further, and he then clears his throat, looking away, a dark, yet flattering blush dusting his cheekbones.
"As I said, you look rather," He makes a show of choosing his words wisely, John must of taught him that, "Appealing."
You giggle, giving a slight bow, making Sherlocks' eyes almost pop out his head, "Why thank you, and so do you, that suit is quite appealing in many ways," You say back, and Sherlock just gives you a look, before muttering something about 'stupid body urges,' yet you try not to look too deeply into his statement.
"Shall we go then?"
Sherlock nods, straightening himself out, "Yes, this way."
~~~
After the movie, dinner, and stroll through the park, you begin to realize faintly, that you might, maybe, slightly be a tad in love with the man.
As Sherlock walks you home, the two of you giggling and walking way to close than normal friends would, you begin to wonder how it would be like to date Sherlock, how it must be like waking up in the mornings, sun beaming through the curtains, and his arms wrapped rightly around your form, bringing you closer into his frame.
You stop your thoughts right there, knowing its a lot to ask for, and so out of reach its laughable.
Sherlock isn't ready for a relationship, its obvious.
Obviously John had talked him into this, finally just swallow his pride and prove that he is a male and capable of going on dates with other females, nothing about you, just wanting to prove to John, or maybe himself, that he can go on dates, woo girls.
Coming to terms that he is indeed a Sociopath, and sociopaths experiment with everything, including emotions and feelings.
You might be one of his experiments, might be one of his many experiments.
Those thoughts make you start second guessing yourself, this whole outing, and whether or not you lack a good taste in men...but, his hand is brushing yours slightly, his eyes sparkling with something, and you try not to think too much into it, as you two walk the empty street together, hands almost touching.
~
"I had a good time," You speak honestly, watching how Sherlock stands there silently, not looking up from where he's directed his gaze, "Thank you, Mr Holmes."
His last name crossing your lips makes him look up at you, eyes slightly confused, "So did I, Y/N...I should be the one thanking you..." He seems to struggle with his next few words, but he seems to get them off his tongue before you give up on him, "I'm not really good at this sort of thing...but, as John said, I should be more in touch with my emotions, and my emotions...want...you..."
His cut off words make absolute no sense to you, but your heart swells anyway with emotions and warmness towards the awkward male, as he stands there making a idiot of himself.
Then, as quickly as he is shy, confused, stuttering and lost, one glance behind you, and his face shifts so quickly you almost don't have time to process his yell of "Watch out!" And he dives towards you, knocking you down with his force, making you yelp in surprise, just in time to hear the sound of a gunshot ring through your ears.
Sherlock gets up then, and moves inside your flat, seemingly chasing the person who had almost just shot you.
Your eyes widen at that thought.
Man, shot, a man almost shot you.
Sherlock just saved your life...Sherlock Holmes, the sociopath, who clams not to care, not to have any feelings towards anybody, just went on a date with you, and now he saved your bloody life.
Well, if that wasn't a marriage proposal in a Sherlock way, nothing could ever be.
"Y/N! If you could kindly call the police and lend a hand over here, that would be greatly appreciated." Sherlock grunts, holding the gunman down with extreme force, his weapon laying kicked far away, to insure safety.
You snap out your daze, and give the detective a long, yet endearing look, "I am the police,"
Sherlocks' dumbfounded stare makes you giggle, and you get out your phone, already dialing your friend Greg, knowing he's going to be pissed and thrilled at the same time, knowing that the killer has finally been caught.
~
"So, tell me, why was the killer after you?" John asks puzzled, sipping his slightly chilled tea, watching how you fidget slightly on the couch, yet you smile, "Ah, well, he has been targeting random victoms who aren't safe at night, I left my door and windows open."
"Which was stupid and you should never do that again," Sherlock instructs, sitting close to you, "You're not ever leaving my sight."
"Yes dear~" You sing-song, and peck Sherlock lightly on the cheek, taking pleasure in seeing his face flush.
John blinks, yet he cant seem to keep the smile from fading, and he chuckles, setting back into his chair, "Finally, no more awkward tension~"
~
Sadly, now that you and Sherlock are officially together, that leaves poor Dr Watson with a whole new problem.
~
"Oi!" John bellows, banging on the shower door with harness, "Quit stealing all the water Sherlock!"
"Leave us!" Sherlock bellows back, and then proceeds to kiss every inch of your neck, making you let out a slight moan of pleasure as his lips leave trails of delightful tingles. "And for bloody sakes! Control yourselves!"
You and Sherlock just burst out into merrily laughter, and John tries not to smile along at his flatmates (Finally!) happiness.
"I'll just go to Marrys' place." John speaks to mostly himself, shaking his head, and leaving the flat, making a point at closing the door louder than necessary.
Sherlock hears the door close, and Johns' footsteps descending the flats' stairs, and he gives you a look that sets your nerves on fire, and makes your stomach emit in butterflies.
"Now, teach me a few things about that other stuff,"
"What, sex?"
"No," Sherlock says, moving closer until your bodies are pressed together, "How to make love."
You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he grips onto your bare bottom, lifting you up effortlessly, "Gladly~" you whisper against his lips, and finally, you kiss Sherlock, slow and lovingly.
You were so glad that his blog was actually real, because you never bothered to actually look it up, and came up with it on the spot, but, luckily for you, Sherlock would never know.
Sherlock Holmes doesn't know everything, but he does, indeed, know everything.
Except how to flirt.
~~