Beautiful

Summary: Shell doesn't think she's attractive, but Sherlock thinks quite the opposite.

…...

"Sherlock..."

Silence.

Dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration as a pair of hazel orbs stared down at the male sitting on the couch in front of her. He seemed to be in deep thought, eyes staring out and not paying attention to anything around him. His hands were clasped together in front of his face, a thing he did when he was thinking deeply.

"Sherlock...GODDAMNIT, SHERLOCK!" The female leaned down and slammed her hands down on the coffee table in front of him. The detective let out an uncharacteristic like yelp, obviously startled.

"Why in the Queen's name would you do that?! I was thinking!"

"You think too much Sherlock!" The dark-haired female growled, her dark brown locks falling in front of her face as she growled at him. "Now, one question..."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as she dragged the question out. "Yes...?"

"WHY ARE THERE FUCKING BODY PARTS IN THE FRIDGE?!"

Sherlock clamped his hands over his sensitive ears, glaring at the woman in front of him. There was really no need for her foul language, but there was nothing he nor John could do about it. She swore like a bloody sailor! Maybe even worse. Ever since she had come to roommate with him and John, Sherlock felt like his world turned upside down.

After a few brief moments, the detective took his hands away from his ears, making sure the female wouldn't scream at him again. "Why not?" He said, as if it was the most simplest thing in the world.

Shell's hazel eyes glared into Sherlock's own blue ones. His eyes changed colors, from blue, to green and even to gray. The man was still a hell of a mystery to her that she had yet to unravel. She didn't like not being able to unravel something...whether it be an object or a person. And Sherlock Holmes was very difficult to figure out.

"Because the decaying flesh will ruin the fridge and make it smell bad..."

"It's wrapped up."

"IT'S A FUCKING HEAD AND BODY PARTS!"

Sherlock gritted his teeth from the loudness of her voice. He was really going to have to teach her how to control the tone of her voice at night. Mrs. Hudson would usually be sleeping at this time and so would the other residents of 221B Baker Street. "Would you please lower your bloody voice?" He said through clenched teeth.

Shell seemed to growl low in her throat, but she went quiet. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. Such an impatient woman. Sherlock thought. "The body parts are from the last case."

"So get rid of them then if you have no use for them."

"But I don't want to." Sherlock slumped his shoulders and seemed to pout. Shell just rolled her eyes at him. God, he could be such a child sometimes.

"Fine, do whatever you want. At least keep the damn things AWAY from the bloody food." She mumbled and plopped down in the recliner chair across from the couch where Sherlock sat. She switched the telly on and stared at it for a few moments before she spoke. "Sherlock..."

"Hmm?" He said without looking up from the papers he was looking at.

"Have you ever been with someone?"

The detective stopped what he was doing and slowly looked up at the female in the recliner chair. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke. "Nope. Don't have time for relationships. Besides, with my schedule and attitude, who would deal with someone like me?"

"That makes two of us..."

Her words were barely audible, but Sherlock had picked up the words with his sharp hearing. "Oh come on, why would you say that?" He said to her and she snapped her head to him, a surprised look on her face. "You've been here for six months, you should know that by now."

Shell pursed her lips into a tight, thin line. She looked away from Sherlock and avoided his gaze. "Answer...the...question Shell." He spoke slowly.

"I don't feel like it." She muttered and hopped out of the recliner, heading towards the bathroom. She brushed past him and gasped when his hand shot out and wrapped around her left wrist, halting her from retreating to the bathroom. Shell let out a frustrated growl as Sherlock stood, his tall frame standing over her smaller one. "Sherlock, let go."

"Nope. Tell me why you would say that." He pressed on.

"Why don't you figure it out genius? You can deduce things just like that." She snapped her fingers.

"Because I want to hear it from your own mouth."

"No."

He sighed. "You are such a stubborn woman." He said in a hushed voice.

"And you are a very stubborn man." She tried to pull her wrist out of his grip. But his grip never wavered or tightened, it merely stayed the same. "If you don't let go, I'm going to clock you." She warned.

"I just want to know, why is that so hard for you to tell me? I can tell from the way your body is positioned that you are nervous, afraid. Your pupils are dilated, they dilate when you become frightened or merely excited in any way. Your muscles are tense, strained as you try to pull away. You are frightened because you don't know what I will say to your response." He spoke quickly without taking a breath.

Shell just stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. The man was right; she was afraid, afraid of his response. How could she be surprised? The man was able to deduce the situation in a matter of a few seconds. "Because...because it's none of your damn business!" She shouted. "Let go!" She struggled violently to get away from him. But he did not let go. So she did the one thing she said she'd do.

She clocked him right in the jaw with her free hand.

Sherlock released his grip on her wrist and staggered backwards, holding a hand to his now throbbing jaw. He grunted from the pain, glaring at the girl. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was surprised with a sudden tackle to the carpet.

"Shut up! Just shut up Sherlock!" She screamed in his face, her face flushed and her eyes brimming with forming tears. "You wanna know?! Fine! I've never thought of myself as attractive, beautiful, any of those, never have and never will! All those years of being alone with hardly any to no friends...it weakens your self-esteem...but not you Sherlock. Oh, how I wished I had your confidence...your self esteem..." She sniffled, pulling away from him and sitting on the floor, her head down.

Sherlock ignored the aching in his jaw and he got into a sitting position. He looked at the female sitting just about a foot away from him. Why would she wish to have what he had? Women were confusing to him sometimes...

He did think she was attractive. There was only one other woman he did find attractive and that was Irene Adler. But for some bloody, unknown reason...Shell seemed more interesting to him. She put up with Sherlock's way of life just like John did. He sighed softly to himself, his eyes gazing at her slightly trembling form. "You shouldn't think like that Shell...you have no reason to. If you want the truth, I find you attractive."

Shell let out a bitter, but sorrowful laugh. She reached up to her eyes with both hands, roughly wiping at her eyes and trying to stop the tears that were flowing. "Lies...all lies...liars..."

"It's the truth." He said and scooted closer to her.

"Liar..."

"Shell-."

"LIAR!" She screamed in his face again and began beating her fists on his slender chest, yelling out 'liar' with every beat of her fist. Sherlock merely stared down at her in shock and surprise as she broke down right in front of him. He hadn't seen her this way before...crying and having a total, emotional breakdown.

As she continued to beat her fists on his chest and her yells became weak, more tears flowed down her face. One of Sherlock's arms went around her shoulders and the other around her lower back and pressed her close in an embrace. He wanted to make her feel safe and secure, not alone and unloved. A few brief, moments later, she stopped beating on his chest and choked on her tears, breathing hard. Her mouth was only inches away from his chest and Sherlock only held her closer so she felt safe.

Minutes later, which felt like hours to both of them, Shell finally lifted her head up slightly, her eyes leveling with Sherlock's neck. She felt his arms around her, holding her close and safe. She sniffled. "Happy now...?" She whispered.

When he didn't answer, she tried to pull away from him. His grip slightly tightened on her. "Sherlock...just let me go..."

"No." He replied immediately.

"Sherlock-."

"No." He growled out.

Shell was surprised when he growled and she lifted her head so she could see him better. She was about to speak, but a hand wound itself into her hair and pulled her face towards his. Her eyes widened in shock as Sherlock dragged his warm lips over hers. A dark blush came onto her face and she stammered. "S...Sherlock...?"

"Hmm..?" He mused. His eyes were closed.

"W...what are you...?"

She let out a gasp as the male's lips captured hers, her blush becoming darker with each second. His lips were firm, but soft and seemed to fit hers almost perfectly. Why was he kissing her...? Why? She didn't understand. His other hand was hooked around her waist, making sure she wasn't going anywhere. Her face was so flushed she thought it would burst.

His lips nudged hers, trying to coax her into the kiss. Shell continued to blush, but she slowly relaxed her body and began to slowly move her lips with his. His fingers treaded through her hair gently and she shivered a bit. Her head was sensitive to touch.

It was a few minutes later when she had to pull away for air. She shyly glanced up at the male. "What...was that for...?"

A small smirk crossed Sherlock's face as he leaned down to her ear. "It's a reminder. You are beautiful Shell...don't let anyone tell you that you aren't."

Shell felt like crying all over again. But she didn't and instead, she wrapped her arms around him tightly. When his arms circled around her, she felt warmth and security. She closed her eyes and snuggled her face into his shoulder as he continued to play with her hair, slowly making her doze off.

The next morning, John came back from the mini vacation he had taken and walked into his and Sherlock's flat, coming upon a rather...surprising sight. He called for Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh! You're back dearie! How was your vacation?" She smiled at him.

"It was nice." John nodded and looked at her. "Was there uh...anything unusual last night?"

"Nothing out of the sort really. Except I heard Sherlock and Shell quite a bit last night, arguing." Mrs. Hudson replied.

John quirked an eyebrow and then he motioned for Mrs. Hudson to follow him into the flat. The elderly gasped upon the sight. "Well...it looks like they made up."

Both Sherlock and Shell were sleeping soundly on the couch. Shell was lying on top of the detective with her head on his chest and her arms on either side of him. Sherlock had one arm wrapped around her, the other behind his head and a blanket covered them both.

"How cute." John snickered and brought out his phone, taking a picture.

The two were surely going to kill him for it later, but it was worth it.