Ok so I want to write a fic about Sherlock and one night it hit me. This is a story about Sherlock and his first love since Irene Adler.
Sherlock's POV
4th December 3:17am
God Lestrade can be such an annoying dick. I understand that he is the only one that 'likes' me but any mention of anything he is not interested in he just shouts out 'not my division!'
"Just piss off Sherlock! It is three in the fucking morning you have no right to walk into my house to inform me that you have solved another fucking murder case. It could have waited till TOMMORROW!"
He is feeling a bit touchy tonight. I flip his police pass between my fingers as I skip up his stairs. I always pick pocket Graham Lestrade when he becomes annoying. The dick should be thanking me for solving his most pressing case about the murder of Savannah Evans but instead he shouts at me. I take in his elaborately decorated house making deductions. The split from his wife is final and she will turn up on his doorstop with divorce papers in a week, wait no tomorrow. To keep his pride he is keeping it quite until his only daughter will tell people.
I pause in my steps by a thick oak door. My fingers flicker towards the handle. I grasp the silver handle and gently push it downwards so the door swings open without a creek. I silently creep into the dark room intrigued by what it holds.
Alodia's POV
4th December 3:19am
"HOLY FUCK WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!" I sit straight up in bed and pull my duvet around my body to protect myself from the dark figure. Obviously a tall male, about six foot with shaggy curls that hangs around his accented cheekbones. His collar has been pulled up to protect himself from the gale blowing around outside. That's the risk when your dad is Greg Lestrade; he has a lot of enemies.
"Has your dad always been such an annoying prick?" Then it hits me, the cheekbones, the curls and the collar. I know who is here.
"I think you just bring it out in him Mr Sherlock Holmes" A smile creeps across my face as I flick on the light.
I drop my duvet as I become comfortable with his presence. He slips his infamous coat off his muscular shoulders and I watch as I fall to the floor. Sherlock strides across my room the rid the distance between us and sits on the edge of my bed.
"So, Mr Holmes, how did you do it? Survive that fall from the top of St Bart's" Every angle about Sherlock intrigued me, his amazing brain and the fantastic deductions he comes up with have always amazed me. Now he was here I wasn't going to miss any opportunity.
"I am deeply sorry but I can't share any details with you, confidential information." His face stayed emotionless, as if carved in stone.
"Mr Holm-"I began
"Please just call me Sherlock"
"Sherlock you fascinate me. You're ability to be so inhuman when in fact three inches deep we are the same. You detach yourself from any emotion because you see them as a disadvantage. You hide your internal pain and torture not with fake smiles but with an icy exterior." I am now only a few inches away from Sherlock's face as he began to speak.
"We are not exactly the same, I have a dic-"