Chapter Text
You could be incredibly distracting.
The first time Sherlock noticed this, (stupid, it was clear as day once he looked) there was some meaningless investigation going on, obvious from the second Sherlock had even heard the idea of the “killer”. It was suicide, naturally. He was going to give them the answer right then and there, but…
But you had gotten so excited. Over nothing, but there was something in the way your eyes glittered when Lastrade gave the three of them the information on the case while they looked around the apartment. Lord, there was no other word for it but incredibly, unbelievably distracting. The more he observed you—not a particularly odd thing for him to do in the grand scheme of things, he observed everyone from time to time—the more he noticed about you that fogged up his brain. He wasn’t even trying to listen to Lastrade anymore. He was too busy. Busy noticing the very particular way your brow dug into your face, the way it shot up when Lastrade apparently said something of interest to you. Your lips, god, how had he never noticed your lips before? They bounced up right as John muttered something pointless yet amusing, and your teeth sunk into them ever so slightly when something seemed wrong about the case.
“The entry could have been from the victim. I mean, there’s a fair bit of alcohol in the cabinets and according to the roommate he often went out. He could have easily forgotten his keys that night, or fairly recently.” You leaned closer to the windowsill with scratch marks from the entry in question, with that same sparkle in your eyes. Your hand suddenly stuck out, reaching for something invisible. You paused for a second before glancing back, meeting Sherlock’s eyes with a certain determination. “Sherlock. Your magnifying glass.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Sherlock scrambled, making up for his failure to pay attention to the proper things, and practically shoved the small glass into your hand. The contact shot through his hand all the way to his brain, but that didn’t affect him as much as the raised eyebrow from his reaction and the brief second of eye contact you made with him. Your (beautiful, stunning, absolutely gorgeous) eyes met his, shining with amusement, and that shot something through his heart. His heart? No, that would be ridiculous. In fact, the whole thing was ridiculous. He quickly banished his foreign thoughts about (Y/N), or about anyone, and began to speak, only stumbling over his words a bit at first.
“You’re—You’re absolutely right, (Y/N). It was a—”
“Hey! Don’t spoil it, I’m in the middle of figuring it out.” You interrupted him with a sudden quality to your voice he’d only heard once or twice before. He didn’t even bother pushing back on that (but if he stopped to think about it, your voice like that was one of the most distracting things he’d ever heard before). He just stood there, noticing and cataloguing more and more things he’d never seen, or just never bothered to notice about you, before.