ANNOUNCEMENT: excuse this really short chapter, the rest will be longer! (i hope)

please review, positive or negative would both be happily accepted thank you :) idk if i should continue with this story or not :')

disclaimer: i do not own Sherlock or the rights to Sherlock, you get the idea ykno

Nothing but a slight hum and some sort of soft mumble was heard whilst I stood there, facing upwards and staring into his deep blue eyes, becoming lighter as the sun hit his face directly. Glancing at his lovely, full lips and then back up at his eyes, he abruptly looked down to catch my gaze. His stare was intense and frightening, and at that, I couldn't help but become so warm in my face that I had to almost instantly turn away so he couldn't see me flush a fair ruby.
A slight mumble was heard, and no more than that. but I didn't understand what it had said because i could not help but be so focused on the wallpaper pattern and the marks he had imprinted onto it. Spray paint, knives ,what else has he used to destroy Mrs Hudson's beautiful wallpaper? has she noticed that he had ruined the wall?

Suddenly two hands had a strong grasp on my shoulders and upper arm that I couldn't help but let out a slight whimper. I hadn't noticed that I was so tense until I relaxed as I turned to see who had caused me to let out the childish sound.
"WATSON," he exclaimed as he shook me twice. "DID YOU GET EVEN ONE WORD OF WHAT I WAS SAYING?" his eyes held some sort of fear in them.
"y-yes, Sh-Sh-Sherlock." Why are you so frightened, by him? My subconscious glares at me. And, as a first, I agree.
"Um, yes Sherlock. I was listening. You spoke about how this isn't like any ordinary case that we-" I trailed off once I saw the look on his face. His jaw set into a hard clench, I knew I ought to stop talking.
"John, stop biting your lip please." His voice stern and god dammit, it made me obey him without hesitation. "Thank you. Now, shall we head off to the scene?"
I nod.

His sweet, tobacco and cologne smell filled the taxi and I couldn't help but take complete lung-filled breaths during the journey until the scent became regular to me and it was then forgotten.
"Where are we going for this one, Sherlock?" I asked quite innocently trying not to interrupt his deep thoughts too much.
"hmm, you never seem to listen, now do you?" I could hear the smile creeping up on his face as he spoke. "So therefore, I will not give you the satisfaction of telling you. You can see upon arrival." The right corner of his lip was curled up ever so slightly as he turned to face me. I love the laid-back side of Sherlock Holmes. It makes him seem so much more youthful. But that side of him was swiftly taken away by the more superior, and he was once again staring out the window for the rest of the journey.

On his command, I started hurriedly scrambling out of the taxi, noticing that Sherlock had gotten out in one swift motion. Then I finally knew our destination. But, why here? Sherlock hates other people with a passion so why would he want to go in the most crowded area of the city, the heart of London? Because of a case, you idiot, he wants to investigate a new case, my subconscious hisses. Though he has always mentioned that he would like to go here sometime. Enjoy the view of all the idiotic people who are in one of the most sophisticated cities. I remember his saying something along those lines.

Walking through the over-crowded paths, I notice his scent once again. I breathe it in sparingly, it makes me want to pounce on him and smell him for eternity. I'm glad that I insisted he lead the way so now he won't be suspicious as of why am lured to him, suddenly I notice that I and rapidly moving faster towards him – SHIT.
"Pull yourself together, John," he laughs as his hand extends outwards to help me up. I grip it and he swings me upward, and I hastily try to find my balance on my feet, but he pulls me into a tight, one armed hug and stares into my eyes and they seem to hold a frightening glare, so I look away shyly. He releases the grip he had on me and brushes my shoulders before grasping them.
"Let's go and find the scene, shall we?" his voice filled with excitement. I nod joyfully. And before I knew it, we were on our way again, Sherlock walking ahead leading us through the swarm of people who surround us.

2:00 pm and Sherlock still hasn't found the exact location. Sherlock Holmes, lost? It sounds almost completely impossible. Sherlock knows everything about London and surrounding cities, heck, even the whole country and beyond. So how is it possible that the Sherlock Holmes is stuck here, spinning in circles looking like a lunatic whilst people stand aside frowning in confusion. It doesn't make any sens-
oh. Ooooh. He is not lost, fuck, how could I be so oblivious. I've known this man for 5 odd years and I am still confused about this marvellous beast. Of course he is not lost, you imbecile. He is putting himself in the victim's shoes. How could I be so idiotic as to even assume that the one and only Sherlock Holmes were lost? I am still compelled by his beauty, from his brown locks to his long, slender legs.
"Right, we are done with this part of the investigation. Now, let's see the victim." The sensibility in his voice still over-ruled by the joy.
"And where is this victim, may I ask?"
"Molly has it. Let's be off to make it in good time, yes?" it? What does he mean by it? He notices my frown and he mimics it, tilting his head to one side. I nod to agree with his prior question, then his smile reappears on his face, he turns on his heels and he's off once again, almost galloping with glee. I pick up my pace to walk beside him. As he looks down at me, his large, eye wrinkling smile appears on his face. Haven't seen that smile in a while. But I like it.

His hair ruffle completely takes me by surprise but I am whole heartedly mesmerised.
But before I know it, we're out of the taxi again and walking towards the hospital.
"John, may I have your phone for a moment?"
"Um, what for, Sherlock?"
He comes to a complete halt. "Now, what are you trying to hide from me? I'd understand if you had por-"
"OH GOD NO. Sherlock. No. I do not. Just, argh, here. Take it." I hold out the phone and he bends down to be eye level with me. He subtly grabs a hold of the phone and pulls it out of my reach.
"Thank you" he breathes. I stand there, eyelids closed, taking in his lovely breath of cinnamon, until I feel his large hand push against my back, easing me to walk forwards. His hands so gentle, he walks with grace. How could such a horrible and cold hearted person be so, majestic? And at that moment, I realised how.
It is not because of his upbringing, though his parents were very nice and elegant when I met them.
It is for no other reason than this:
He is not a horrible, cold hearted person.
How could one be cold hearted if they care? Sherlock Holmes cares. About his parents, his brother and, surprisingly, even me.
He is not a psychopath how others describe him, oh no.
Instead, he is a sociopath. And a high functioning one at that. And best of all, he is mine.

Walking into the hospital, I wore a great smile as I looked up at him. We caught each other's stare and my smile must have been somewhat contagious that he began to beam his large, eye wrinkling smile. This is how I liked him the most. Just like this. Perfect.
I felt complete walking through the corridors of the hospital with Sherlock. Everyone who walked past seemed almost frightened by him, they moved aside, practically hugging the wall when their eyes met his. I'm still very unsure why though.
I was just overwhelmed to be in Sherlock's presence. He doesn't think of you the way you think of him. My subconscious is most likely right, but I should still try and enjoy his company as much as possible. Who would possibly want a brilliant mind like him to shake free of their grasp? Definitely not me.