A/N: Well, here I go again. I had this unhealthy obsession with kidlock and then my friend and I were discussing my writing/Sherlock…and here's the end product! To Connor : for giving me some sort of inspiration that I desperately needed.

It was always raining. Sherlock was in his black coat as he lightly shivered. Though it always rained, playtime was always outside. Just like how it was always raining, Sherlock was always left to sit alone on the swings while the other children ran around with their friend. Sherlock didn't have any friends. His brother, Mycroft, blamed it on how smart Sherlock was. Sherlock wasn't sure but he had grown used to being alone and grew used to the rain. But he never got used to the cold feeling of raindrops hitting him like tiny needles lightly poking at his skin.

But today the rain was hitting him a little bit harder and a little bit colder than usual. He shifted slightly in his regular swing and sighed as he watched kids pass by him. It was only when he saw another person sit in the swing next to him in his peripherals that he turned his head. It was a girl. But not just any girl. The girl was small with light brown hair, hair that was most likely blonde when she was younger, and wide brown eyes that reminded him of a small animal. Her smile was big and bright despite the slight crookedness of her teeth. Her blue jacket was worn, but the large, navy blue scarf around her neck looked new. Judging from her appearance, Sherlock guessed that she came from a middle class family. The scarf must have been a birthday gift, because it wasn't close to Christmas.

"Hi," she said. Her voice was as cheerful as the smile on her face. Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. Most of the other children didn't speak to him, let alone any other girls. "What's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes," he mumbled. He slightly wondered if he was quiet enough if she would go away.

"Well, my name is Nicolette Marie Garland. But my parents call me Nicole." She wasn't going away. "How old are you?"

"I'm eight years old," Sherlock mumbled, again.

"I'm eight, too!" He watched as the smile on her face grew larger, if possible before she seemed to notice the slight shiver that Sherlock had. "Are you cold?"

"No."

"You don't need to lie to me! Friends don't lie to each other, Sherlock."

"I don't have any friends."

Nicole sat silent for a moment and stared at him. Then, she slowly stood up and took the scarf off from around her neck and wrapped it around Sherlock's. As much as he tried not to look pleased at the feeling of the rain not hitting the back of his neck he couldn't help but give an extremely small sigh of comfort. Nicole smiled at the sounded.

"Well, we're friends whether you like it or not, Sherlock."

-SH-

"You're not happy," Sherlock said as he sat next to Nicole.

They were in the living room by themselves. Nicole was attempting to study for an upcoming exam while Sherlock was more interested in deducing, as Mycroft put it, his friend for the past six years. It had only been a few months since the passing of her mother. Her death was caused by a car accident and Nicole had been progressively getting better. But she always refused to cry in front of him.

"I'm fine, Sherlock," she replied without looking up from her book.

"Your eyes have dark blue bags underneath them, but most wouldn't be able to tell because you have applied powder. This is probably an attempt to hide the fact that you rarely sleep from me, but you can barely keep your eyes open at the moment. Your sleeves are worn and faded, which means you've been wiping them across your face when you cry. Your hair is up in a ponytail which you rarely do because it only makes your face shape more round, and you detest that. So I assume that since you rarely sleep and when you do, you always wake up late and do not have as much time to do your hair like you once did." Sherlock paused to see Nicole looking up from her book. "What did I get wrong? There's always one thing I get wrong."

"You never get anything wrong with me, Sherlock," Nicole mumbled and sighed. She closed her book and placed it on the table. Without giving him any warning, she sprang forward and hugged his waist.

Sherlock placed a pale hand onto her back and pulled her closer as she breathed heavily into his chest. Her fingertips were just barely touching the ends of his curly, black hair at the end of his neck as she tried to keep herself from sobbing. But as the minutes passed, Sherlock felt his friend slowly calm down. After he felt that she had been completely calm, he continued to let her hold him and vice versa. Her body was as warm as her smile was the day that they first met. Sherlock then turned his head and looked out the window and noticed that it was raining. It was always raining. But as he looked back down at his friend, he noticed that Nicole was now looking at him. He saw those large brown eyes and her light brown hair that seemed in total disarray. Her eyes were a bit red and her lips a bit swollen, but as Sherlock felt a little tightening appear around his chest he couldn't help but notice that she was beautiful. Had it taken him this long to notice? But he wasn't left much more room to ponder as she lightly pushed herself forward and kissed him.

-SH-

Sherlock wasn't exactly sure how they found the abandoned taxi cab in the back of the party host's enormous backyard, but he was certainly happy that they did. The backyard was oddly vacant, but it was another thing that Sherlock found himself extremely happy about. Nicole's lips were urgently leaving kisses up and down his neck as the both scrambled to get into the backseat of the cab. Sherlock, himself, was trying a little too hard to unbutton her pants as she pushed his trench coat off of his shoulders and threw it into the front seat. After some time and fumbling, he had managed to remove her shoes, pants, and shirt. He had been left in only his underwear and he felt it only necessary that she be in the same position. But as his pale hands went around her back, he realized that he had never taken a bra off of a woman in his life. With as much confidence as he could muster at this realization, he slowly trailed his hands up and down her back as he kissed her. After a moment, she felt him chuckle against him before she put her hands behind her back and helped him unhook her bra.

Sherlock tried to memorize what she looked like in those moments without his mind deducing her body as their final articles of clothing was removed. Between kisses and exploring her skin, Sherlock wasn't sure he could ever really get enough of her form. With every slightly fumbled touch, she seemed to melt into him. He kissed her slowly as he eased into her for the first time and only stopped when she hissed under her breath.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked as he stopped.

"It just hurts a bit," she mumbled as her nails dug into his skin. "Just keep going."

"How am I to keep going when I am hurting you, Nicole?" he asked.

"Sherlock, it's quite normal. Just…keep going," she begged. With heavy reluctance, he pushed forward. Every second that he pushed forward, he watched as she closed her eyes in pain. He kissed her cheeks softly as he went at a slow pace, trying to comfort her as she tried not to wince for the first few moments of their first time together. But, to his satisfaction, he watches as the pain filled expression slowly morphed into awe. As she began to enjoy it, he did as well. But his head clouded once she moaned his name for the first time.

Afterwards, they laid in the backseat together. Sherlock was on his back while Nicole was on his chest. Her hair was a tangled mess that Sherlock let his fingers attempt to remedy. They were still naked as they breathed together.

"I love you, too, by the way." Sherlock didn't want to beat around the bush. He had noticed her constantly drawing hearts with her notes and the fact that there would be a different emotion that would come to her eyes whenever she would look at him. It wasn't the friendship or infatuation that had been there before. Sherlock was never sure what love really felt like, but he knew by the end of the night.

"Thank you," she mumbled as she hugged his chest and sighed. "I just noticed something, though."

"What is it?"

"It's always raining."

-SH-

Life had just started at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock began his career as a "consulting detective" while Nicole busied herself with decorating their new home. Rent was nice since Sherlock had helped the landlord, Mrs. Hudson. Life was nice.

"You're late," Nicole said quietly as she typed on her computer. Sherlock, in his regular trench coat, black trousers, and nice shirt, had just walked in as drops of rain began to touch their window. It was always raining.

"I know, but it is so hard to get to these detectives in order to tell them that they are going after the wrong guy. Any imbecile would see that the cab driver was off commiting another crime at the time of the murder," Sherlock sighed.

"You're late for another reason." Nicole didn't look up from her lap top as she continued to type.

"Really? How are you sure?"

"The detective called hours ago, Sherlock. Thanking you for your advice. You've been unattended for three hours, if my calculations are correct."

"You're making a deduction about me?"

"It would appear so."

Sherlock looked at her with a bit of frustration before pulling the small box from his coat's pocket before throwing it at her legs. She then looked up at him with a smile and chuckled.

"I can't do anything romantic, now can I?" He asked as he took his coat off.

"I'd be surprised if you could," she said as she picked up the box and opened it. "I mean, you really need to learn how to erase your browser history. But I guess I should have been happy to see your browsing engagement rings rather than pornography sites."

"Now, why would I look at other girls when I have an almost perfect one at home?"

"Almost perfect?" She asked as she raised her eyebrow.

"if you had a different last name, I'd think you'd be more than perfect," he said as he began to walk towards their room.

"What last name would you prefer me to have?"

"Holmes would sound nice!" Nicole laughed at Sherlock.

"Then I have no other option than to tell you yes!"

-SH-

Life at 221B Baker Street had stopped. Sherlock wasn't exactly sure the exact time that life had stopped. Perhaps it was when they started to fight. Perhaps it was when Sherlock had, mistakenly, hinted that she would be unfaithful. Perhaps it was when she left 221B Baker Street. Perhaps it was when she was hit by a drunk driver. But now Sherlock wasn't sure when life back at 221B Baker Street would start back up. It had only been three weeks, and in those three weeks Sherlock had found himself without a wife. Without a lover. Without a friend.

Within all of these things he found himself without, he was also without the life that would have been born nearly seven and a half months from now. The child was too small to tell the gender, but in his heart he knew that it would have been a boy. He knew it would have been a boy not because of a vain attempt to carry on his family name, but he knew that Nicole wanted a boy. So, why not expect that his unborn child would have been a boy? If not for his sake, then for his wife's?

By God, Sherlock did miss her. As time went by, cases piled up and he couldn't manage to look through her notes. He couldn't look at her handwriting. He couldn't see the little hearts she still doodled on those notes. But as weeks turned into months and months turned into a year, he had to get up and start back his routine. With as much excitement as a snail, he got up and began to put his trousers, his nice shirt, and his trench coat. But as he looked outside, he noticed that it was raining. He went to his closet and sighed heavily. An old, navy blue scarf was on the top shelf and his heart suddenly felt heavy. But, as his fingertips touched the fabric and pulled it down, he was more than happy to wrap it around his neck. In those moments, he realized something.

Sherlock Holmes never had any friends.

Sherlock Holmes would never make any friends.

Sherlock Holmes would never have any friends.

Sherlock Holmes would always have Nicole. Whether it was in his turning cold heart or this scarf, he would always have Nicole.

With that, he left his apartment and went towards the lab.

-SH-

Sherlock Holmes had met John Watson. Without a doubt, a man that was extremely curious and forward. Sherlock Holmes, only having really talked to the man for a minute or so, had immediately decided that John Watson would be an interesting roommate. As he walked back to the apartment, Sherlock smiled slightly as reached his door.

"It's always raining," he muttered sourly before entering his home.

Life at 221B Baker Street would begin again.