HE KNOWS
I wrote this around 1am this morning. Its something I can't even explain.
Its also considered poetry written in prose form which wasn't my intention. It kind of happened.
Anyways. Hope you like it.
much love,
day
Everyone assumes that he doesn't care. That he does things because that's what is expected of him but that's not true, not entirely. To do anything would make him a different person and while Sherlock Holmes has always been defined as odd he would never pretend to be anybody else even if it would somehow make the situation less annoying.
They believe he is oblivious to how they feel or how they react but he does. Its his job to notice things and he locks these little quirks away for later use. A filing system that some of the greatest networks wish they had but there is something there that they don't find anyway besides what is kept in public records.
A person. A person who matters. A person who he has never been oblivious to.
They thought he didn't notice. That he was dismissive because he was ignorant and cruel but that simply isn't possible. She can't be missed. Not in his eyes and his mind.
She is unassuming and plain yet direct and lethal. She pokes and prods at him, sorting him out when he needs it and making him blink when he isn't prepared to grasp at the rope she is giving him. To hold to, to balance him when his faith waivers.
His lifeline she is.
They figured he didn't notice her heart but how could he miss it. She made his speed up and stop altogether. She was magnetic to the point of being stuck.
He was reaching for her from a distance. His hand fighting to cling to the warmth she shone in his very soul.
Of course, he was paying attention. It wasn't his time yet so he waited. Waiting is the longest game he's ever had to play. He finds it to be worth it. Even for the smallest of moments. The bare touch of her hand.
Yes, he noticed. He cares more than he can say.
He is trying. He hopes she notices.
She will.
She sees him.
She does.
Its the slowest of growths. He'll take it.
He does.