It wasn't that you didn't like dead bodies, well I mean who would? It was just, a little odd seeing them again. After so long of leaving them behind.

This is what you felt when you arrived on the crime scene. Your stomache churned, you weren't sure if it were nerves or something else but you had never been too fond of the sensation and it certainly wasn't helping the situation at hand. You had to keep your cool, look unbothered. Just so the man next to you wouldn't 1. suspect anything or 2. think you were weird. You were more worried about the latter as you were intrigued about these sorts of things, what it was like on the other side of a crime. What it was like to figure out how someone's mind works from facts of the past.

These thoughts had made you have an unnaturally happy smile on your face, it was so exciting. But at the same time you bashed yourself for looking so goofy when you were trying to look normal. You'd never done anything like this before so what did people expect? New experiences were something to look forward to, unless they were meeting a new teacher or boss. Those experiences were never pleasant, but other than that you were pretty sure that new things were fun. So it still puzzled you why all of the butterflies in your stomach wouldn't settle. Surely you shouldn't be so nervous about something so mundane, but then again it could just be excitement. You decided to put those thoughts aside and actually try and retain some information from the ever so silent consulting detective beside you, it seemed the best way to break the ice, asking about the case, it seemed on topic which was good at least.

"So what crime are we going to investigate?" You asked, turning to him as you walked down a street. It was still dark outside so his height silhouetted him in the street lights but you could still see the cheekbones that defined his face so nicely.

"A murder." He stated simply, not bothering to look down the couple of inches between you and him in height as he kept staring staight ahead as he walked. He was overly aware however of your presence next to him. It seemed that having you and not John as a roommate was having an odd affect on him. He couldn't simply walk into your room like he could John or use the bathroom when you were having a shower. It obviously wasn't normal to walk in on your roommate doing things, gender disregarded. However Sherlock felt that because you were a woman you deserved a lot more privacy, even he felt that something so stupid as privacy shouldn't exist. This concequently had made him all the more curious as to what you were doing when you were in the bathroom or bedroom. He didn't exactly want to immediately assume things but you did make a lot of noise when you were alone so his mind coudn't help but jump to conclusions. This made him blush a little at the thought and he was now thankful for the fact that you had turned away from looking at him, it stopped a lot of questions being asked if you were actually looking at him. That would be a minor inconvenience as he wasn't entirely sure if he'd be abe to keep his mouth shut from asking questions about your actions on your own.

It was at that moment that you both had finally arrived at the crime scene which welcomed you with a very sour faced looking Donovan judging you both very harshly with her brown eyes. Sherlock knew it was because of him and being a 'freak' but you on the other hand thought that she had something against you personally. Your eyes squinted at her and your jaw set, "Have you got a problem?"

She ignored you and turned to the man beside you, holding her walkie talkie up, "Sir? He's here," her eyes then flicked to you, with even more disgust in her them than before, "and it seems he has a new mouthy little assistant. Do you want me to send them in?" She waited for the reply, nodded and lifted the tape, "nice to see you too, freak." She called after you both, your fists clenched. How dare she talk like-

"There's no need to get so angry," his voice cut off your thoughts, instantly calming you down, "she was talking about me." It was that last sentence that hit you. Hard. It kind of knocked you back a little at how his words were so solemn and yet they seemed as if he'd used that sentence so much in his life that they seemed overused to him. It then hit you, he was bullied in his past. Badly. You felt like you should say something at least, just so he knew that you were there for him.

"Don't," he stopped your thoughts again, it was as if he could read you like an open book and yet at other times it was if he couldn't read you at all, "If I need you, I'll tell you. Save your pity for the weak." His blue eyes looked at you as if they were binding you to his word as he looked out of the corner of his eye.

"Sherlock!" A voice came from an alleyway to the right of you both, it seemed that he recognised it as he moved towards it quickly. Breaking his gaze from you to greet a man with salt and pepper hair happily. Woah, you thought, he must like this man as much as he does John to greet him like this. Even I don't get greetings like this!

"What have we got then?" Sherlock asked, excitement showing through his eyes and body. He really must love his work to feel this excited, and yet this excitement made you feel as if your own wasn't that bad anymore. It made you feel slightly comforted, even if he hadn't introduced you to his colleague yet.

It seemed the man that the detective was so fond of had noticed you and wanted a reason as to why the hell you were there, "Um Sherlock, before we get to all the gory business...who's this?" His glance shifted to you as he asked the question. Sherlock followed the mans question and turned, his coat swooshing behind him.

His eyes seemed to light up at the fact that you were there with him, as if he had forgotten why you were there before, "Ah! This is _, _ _. She's my assistant for tonight, I hope you don't mind?" That was when the puppy dog eyes seemed to kick in. You had never seen something so adorable before! Especially on a man who was in his mid-thirties (you assumed he was in his mid thirties, he had never actually told you)

"Of course, I haven't stopped you before have I?" he then turned to you, "I'm Lestrade by the way, pleasure to meet you _." He held out his hand for you to shake, smile and all. You returned the gesture with the warmest smile you could muster.

Sherlock was fidgeting behind Lestrade, almost jumping on the spot, "can we get to the dead body now?" He was like a little child with the way he was acting but his demeanor immediately changed as soon as he saw the scene laid out before him. The magnifying glass whipped out and he was straight to work. This was the first time you had really seen him in action and it was amazing.

The body was mauled into an inch of oblivion, guts and gore everywhere, you were sure nobody would be able to get anything from such a crime. You were wrong, "Business man, in a lot of debt to someone...ahem...well." he seemed uncomfortable with that deduction so he moved on, "Divorced twice, on his third engagement by now and by the looks of it, someone was after him. This isn't the work of a serial killer or a one off murderer."

"Well who was it then?" Lestrade asked, his brow furrowed and arms crossed. He seemed so used to Sherlock and all his deductions by now that he didn't even want to question them by now, he just wanted to get straight to the facts. You wanted that too but unfortunately for Lestrade you were a little too curious for your own good.

"An assasin, and by going by the look on your face _, you want to know how the hell I knew any of that." He said standing up and turning to face you. He started to walk towards you pointing out things along the way as he explained the deductions he had made, "Look at the footprints, what do they say to you? Business man by the soles of them but there isn't any mud or anything coming off from them as it would do on this ground so he obviously got into a taxi straight from work instead of going to his usual route here. Why does he come here often? An alleyway as rough as this? To meet with someone he regularly sees but can't talk to in public without seeming odd, loan shark. This time it was different, someone else came instead of his regular person. The Assasin. You can tell by the immediate struggle, fingernail scratches and the footsteps of the man being dragged backwards. It was then that the attacker strapped something on him and handcuffed him to the dumpster, presumeably a small bomb. Only powerful enought to kill him and do minor damage to the surrounding buildings. Oh and he was on his third marriage because what business man isn't these days?"

You stood in awe at it, this was amazing. He had gotten every detail of the incedent exact except for one thing and that was apparent from his next sentence, "we're looking for a man Lestrade, be careful, he's a trained and very good assasin."

How wrong he was. You snapped out of your gorming state when Lestrade tugged on your sleeve, "Are you okay? Have you never seen him do that before?" You shook your head slowly, closing your mouth that had inevitably dropped open. "it's understandable, It really is amazing." he then turned to Sherlock letting go of your sleeve to let you think about what the hell you had just heard, "Thanks Sherlock, this was a big help. I could hardly tell anything from this!"

"Well that' because you're an idi-"

"So if you wouldn't mind," the Inspector cut him off swiftly, "could you leave it to us now, It was nice to see you again."

"Sure," He looked a little miffed at Lestrade's quipped tone but he obeyed nonetheless, going for your hand to lead you off. Your heart jumped a little when he grabbed for it, "We're leaving now _, bye Lestrade." He sounded upset, you hoped nothing was wrong.

"Are you okay Sherlock?" You asked him as he led you off from the crime scene quickly and quietly.

"I'm fine," he said almost too quietly fot you to hear as he was turned away from you. You didn't believe him but you decided to drop it as he didn't seem too happy about the subject being brought up. He looked as if he just wanted to forget. You weren't quite sure what he wanted to forget though. Was it Lestrade...or something else?

"Keep her Sherlock, she's a good un' " the Inspector shouted after you two, it was then that you saw Sherlock blush. It seemed that he couldn't stop it this time, it also seemed that he couldn't stop you from seeing as the sun had now risen and the streetlights couldn't mask it anymore. You didn't mind it though, it made him seem a little more human and made you feel much more relaxed around him because he didn't seem so machine like anymore. It also sparked some thoughts inside your head that you'd thought you'd never have again after...

"Ah Sherlock?" You were now blushing too and your palm was starting to sweat, you were thankful that he couldn't tell because he was wearing his gloves.

"Yes?"

"Could you let go of my hand now?" You seemed shy now, not entirely wanting to ask, it felt nice, his hand in yours.

"Oh yes," he abruptly moved his hand away looking a little embarrased himself, "Should we get a taxi?" He then asked to break the awkward silence after a few moments. You nodded as you both reached the main road, he waved a hand to the nearest approaching taxi and you two were soon on your way back to 221b.