I dabbed on another touch of makeup on my nose, smiling at my reflection in the mirror. Today was the day.

I'd been dating Sherlock for two years now, after meeting on one of our cases. That first glance, that first touch, I knew from the start he was the one.

Our first kiss was like magic, just a quick peck. Hesitant and curious about one another.

"Be sure to dress up nice!" he'd said on the phone earlier. "I don't want you looking bad for my big announcement!"

Okay, so he wasn't the best with subtlety. But I love him anyway.

I got in my car and drove to the address he'd specified, not sure if the butterflies were from excitement or just that I would see him again. I always got butterflies in my stomach when I thought of him. Perhaps it was because I knew today he would propose.

He was waiting for me outside the restaurant, his arms folded across his chest in impatience.

I got out of the car. "Sally! Finally!" he held out his hand and I took it. His fingers were always warm to the touch.

After dinner he stood with me on the corner, waiting for his cab. Sherlock never drove anywhere; he didn't want to kill anyone.

"Sally..." he said, taking my hand in both of his and rubbing his thumbs across the back of it.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I just want you to know, that if I could spend the rest of my life with only one person," he paused, and my breath caught in anticipation. "It would be anyone in this world but you."

"WHAT?"

"You're boring, jealous, and you snore! You constantly think of what other people think of you, and yes, you do look fat in that dress. You look fat in everything! All you do is obsess, weather it's me or our future, which Is non-existent, or yourself or your job, it doesn't matter!"

I ripped my hand from his. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No, I'm just telling you everything I don't like about you!" he said sarcastically.

My hand flew across his face, the noise reverberating through my head, before stomping away in fury.

Here he comes. I could see his curly black hair bobbing in the distance, coming towards me.

"Hello freak." I said as he approached.

"I'm here to see detective inspector Lestrade." He said, ignoring my comment.

"Why?" I asked, not comfortable with his proximity.

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look." the snobbyness was dripping off his tongue, smiling slightly at my glare.

"Well you know what I think?"

"Always, Sally. I know You didn't make it home last night." he said. I grit my teeth

"Who's this?" I said, changing the subject from Anderson back to him. I really don't think he should know about THAT.

"Dr Watson, this is Sergeant Sally Donovan. He's a colleague."

"A colleague? And how do you get a colleague? Did he follow you home?" He stuck his tongue out at me. "freaks here, bringing him in."

I went home that night, slamming the door behind me. I glanced at the pictures on my mantle, Sherlock and I on a boat, us on the bridge, him feeding me a strawberry. I smiled at the memories, but stopped when I realize they were gone. I'd never get my Sherlock back, no matter what I did.