Chapter II: First Impressions Count
Before I met Sherlock, I'd never known such a - well, for want of a better word, dick. I mean sure, Harry was never my favorite person, and there was that group of morons I was stationed with in Afghanistan for a while. But he, he topped them all. His arrogance and complete disregard for human emotion baffled me, and God, the bloody experiments too. I mean why on earth was there a head in the fridge?! Why?! Don't even get me started on the issues with respecting boundaries, or the way -
Jesus, just listen to me, speaking ill of the dead like this, especially someone who did so much for me in the end, it's horrible. I just get so lonely, and angry, and I start to blame him, and dwell on his imperfections. I suppose it helps in a way, it makes me realise that he was exactly what everyone thought he wasn't. Human. He hid it well but he was wrapped up in imperfections and insecurities just like us 'stupid people'. Sherlock always said sentiment brought people down, that it was a hindrance. He was wrong. Sentiment saved my life, Lestrade's, and Mrs Hudson's too. Sherlock saved our lives.
It was mild the day we met, not too hot, not to cold. Crowds gathered the streets of London, rush hour traffic and countless tourists. Just a 'normal' day. As cliche as it sounds, however, that day was far from normal for me. I can't even find the words to describe how much my life was not only turned upside down, but completely converted by those three little words. If you're thinking 'I love you', then think again you soppy twat.
The words were "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
That deduction was the first chance he got to impress me. Sherlock, being Sherlock, gave in to his urge to show off, and did exactly that, impressed the socks right off of me. I felt strangely exposed and weak whilst at the same time overwhelmed by fascination and awe at this odd character I was meeting. It even crossed my ever-logical mind that he could have been some sort of mind reader. I certainly didnt think he could have picked my Army background up from a walking stick and some tan lines.
I'll skip the gory details of our first case, if you were all that bothered you could read it on my blog, which is an empty wasteland since he left me. The case of the woman in pink was my first taste of life with Sherlock Holmes. I learned so much about his methods yet I was left with so many more questions the longer I spent with him. Whilst eye opening, the case is not what choose to think about when I think back to those first weeks with Sherlock. I choose to remember the little things, like the first time I thought of him as Sherlock Holmes, my friend.
