He looked so lost, stood high on the ledge.
Like a small gust of wind could sweep him away in an instant.
Like I could fit him into the palm of my unworthy and useless hand.
Like he was nothing, nobody.
"Nobody could be that clever", he said.
Was it true?
"Nothing ever happens to me", I told Ella.
And then Sherlock happened.
He swept me off my feet, abandoning the unnecessary cane, thrilling away the frustrated, action-less hand tremor.
He stunned me with his intelligence, his depth, his (sometimes well-hidden) humour, his passion.
He awakened a part of me that was lost, desperate, alone.
He made me feel alive with every fibre of my being, every cell, every molecule, every atom.
"Nobody could be that clever", he said.
Without hesitation, I replied, "You could."