I watch you, bent over your microscope and petri dishes. Marking a clipboard, oblivious to the world around you. I try to focus on my own work, try to stare into my own microscope instead of gazing at you.
It never works.
I love you, Sherlock Holmes. I love you for your slim build, your tousled hair, your racing mind, your hidden kindness. It kills me to see you abusing yourself, filling your beautiful brain with drugs and smoke. I know you love him and I know you'll never be mine, but that makes me love you even more. Can't you see?
I love you.