You weren't obsessed with psychopaths, no. You were merely fascinated by them. That may have been why you were so eager to pick up the job of observing Mr. Holmes, he did claim to be a sociopath after all. Of course you had your normal work to attend to, but that was boring compared to the wonderful man you had the pleasure of watching on a daily basis. With insults of course but that seemed mandatory considering his narcissistic nature. You had unfortunately become less interested in watching him after that dinner. It' wasn't just the fact that he was observing you but it also seemed that he didn't hold those qualities of a sociopath or a psychopath. He could sympathise, empathise, he didn't play with people's emotions and so all in all he was quite boring by your standards. Because of this now lack of interest, all for the reason he wasn't psychotic, you had no longer the desire to speak to the man. In fact you were actually trying to avoid him. It was also because of the observing but the interest being lost also played a part. Unsuccessfully of course considering you were living with him in the same apartment, but you tried your best. Picking up even more assignments than before, locking yourself in your room or hiding in the bathroom. It all seemed normal after a week but he just didn't want to leave you alone. He was beginning to have almost an obsession with you. It was...uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Go away," you said for the fifteenth time from inside of your bedroom. You had had to wedge the door shut with your wardrobe because Sherlock had seemed so adamant in talking to you that he had removed all locks from inside of the flat, just so you couldn't lock yourself away from him for such long periods. He must really have an uncontrollable need. He hadn't however considered the fact of how useful heavy furniture could be when trying to keep people away and out of sight. You however had.

"No," he persisted. He was currently sitting at the base of your door, he hadn't really caught on to the reason on why you were avoiding him. It confused him. You were so kind to him, perhaps even what he classed as one of his friends. And then as soon as you heard that he was observing you, of all things, the thing that he did to everyone else on a daily basis, you turned your back. Tried to ignore his very existence, that was not only rude but also very childish. Your cold shoulder wasn't the only thing that hurt him though, it was also the fact that you wouldn't even acknowledge that he wanted to explain. Just for the sole reason that he observed you you tried to push him away. Surely you of all people should realise that that was normal? For him at least, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Why? I obviously don't want to speak to you, or see you, can't you see that?" Well that was the most words you had said to him in over a week. He was impressed. Maybe your strop was wearing off, or it could just be a fluke. You could never tell.

"I can see that but I do wish very much so to speak with you," he said, sounding exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on, nicotine patches would be needed. At least two. This was getting to the level of annoyance that he possibly wouldn't be able to handle without drugs.

"And why is that? Why don't you just leave me alone and give up?" You too sounded exasperated, but in an entirely different way. It seemed that you hadn't been to the bathroom for a considerable amount of time because of the man outside of your door. Unfortunately, this was having a bad affect on your bladder capacity. You were particularly afraid of having to pee in the bin in the corner of your room. Things were getting drastic.

"Because I want to know why you're ignoring me, don't I at least deserve an explanation?" He tried to reason, he felt that he needed, or had earned that. Regrettably though he was never good with people skills. It was always so stressful to be nice to people. Especially to those he liked, he just seemed all the more ruder to those close to him. It was a very inconvenient habit.

"I guess so," you mumbled quietly, you were surprised that he had even heard it. You were hoping he hadn't.

"Are you going to tell me then?" He questioned, you could now hear the well hidden annoyance in his voice seeping through. Maybe you should tell him, but then you'd be exposed. And nobody wanted that. Hopefully he didn't either.

"Okay," you took a deep breath as Sherlock readied himself for the reason, he hoped it would be a good one. He was not disappointed, "I've always had trouble with people looking at me, unpicking my every move. Ever since I was a kid I've had Doctors, Psychiatrists, people in general, poking around in my head. I just don't want anyone in there anymore, they might see something they don't enjoy. Something that they would rather have not seen."

He paused to think, he knew what it felt like to be looked at as a freak and nothing else. How it felt to feel branded with names that weren't your own and that were only placed there to hurt you. How it felt to dig up memories you had rather repressed. "I wasn't trying to observe you in that way. I'd already done that when we met-"

"Oh well that makes me feel much better," you said sarcastically, tears welling up in your eyes. Why were you crying now of all times? Why would your body never do as it's told, always malfunctioning. This was the worst of times to happen. Why did he have to be here, even if there was a wardrobe between you. You did not want him to see you like this, he'd just taunt you relentlessly afterwards. You tried to suppress your sobs so that he wouldn't hear. You knew he had anyway but you tried nonetheless. Perhaps you could at least keep a part of your dignity still intact.

"Thats not what I meant, why do emotions always have to be so candescent? Never relenting once they've reared their ugly heads. Emotions are such a burden," it sounded like he was speaking to himself but you at the same time. Why did he have to talk in such riddles? That man would never become clear to you, never. Even when you two would become at your closest he would always seem a mystery to you, as you were to him.

"I know what you mean, as soon as you start to feel an emotion you can't get rid of it. Mostly with those that you didn't even want in the first place," you sighed, how on earth did this conversation become this? You weren't even supposed to be having this conversation. You had forbidden yourself, it was for the best. You shouldn't be talking to him. And yet your mouth didn't seem to be listening to you. "The same goes for thoughts, as soon as they come into your head, you can't get rid of them. They're planted and then they grow. They grow until you become paranoid and the thought overcomes you so much, it becomes you. Unless you act upon them of course, that's always the best solution to get rid of thoughts and feelings. Acting."

"Yes, that's what I was trying to achieve by observing you," he said confusing you slightly. What on earth did he mean?

"I don't understand, how can observation be an action? Surely you would need to voice those observations?" You were thinking out loud, doing as you had just thought.

"True, but I never got around to that acting part that I intended to do," he admitted. He hadn't realised but he had been biting his fingernails again, old habits die mainly did this when he was highly strung like he was now. He felt that he needed those nicotine patches soon, he wasn't sure if he'd last much longer considering he didn't have many nails left to bite. Some of them were even bleeding now. He really needed to remember himself when things like this happened, calm himself.

"And what action would you have taken if I hadn't left so abruptly?" You questioned, it seemed to take him a while for him to answer. As if he were carefully planning out his answer. As if he hadn't done so he would most surely hurt your feelings.

"I would have done something that I would have called drastic, bearing in mind I was acting upon my emotions and not my thoughts. Which I personally feel is an error in human nature, mine especially." He seemed to stop after that, not really wanting to voice his observations after all.

You had to prompt him, "Go on."

Another pregnant pause, "I would have asked if you would wish to be in a relationship with me, one further than friendship," All of his nails were now bleeding and he now knew why, he was worried for your feelings. And now he felt that he didn't really want to know if those feelings were returned anymore.

"I see," you said calmly although that was not what was going on in your head at that current moment. Blood was rushing through you head and you could feel it pumping through your ears. Your stomach churned, butterflies no longer contained to a certain extent, but feeling as if a whole wave of them were upon you. A tsunami tide. Your knees felt weak from where you were standing facing the door and you could no longer stand properly. You clutched to the wall. Why was this mention of feelings having such an adverse affect on you? Perhaps it was because it was such a long time after such a horrible relationship that you felt that you could no longer be loved. By anyone. Let alone a man like Sherlock Holmes. But maybe, just maybe it would take a Sherlock Holmes to love you.

"_? Are you okay?" Sherlock asked from the other side of the door, it had been a little longer than you realised from when you had last talked. Ten minutes to be exact. Your perception of time had never been that good, even when you were most aware.

"Y-yes, just a little...overwhelmed," You said now sitting on the floor, your mind completely blank. How were you supposed to react? How did normal people react to situations like this? You didn't know, you had never dealt with something like this before. It was all a bit new because all of your previous relationships just kind of...happened. So you were a novice at things like this, as was the man who had just asked you for such a thing.

"Uh, can I come in?" He asked after another pause that seemed to consume more time than you were aware of.

"N-no, I need to think," it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't quite the truth either. You could never get the hang of being completely truthful.

"Oh okay, well can I have an answer, at least an 'I don't know'? I wanted to tell you myself that I was observing you but John had to ruin it," he was trying to joke but you couldn't hear him anymore, you were changing. Another text had come through. Urgent, you needed to go.

"I'll think about it," you had actually made up your mind of what would happen between you two by then, but you would never tell him that, perhaps a few years into your relationship but not now.

And yet again, you made a quick exit. These were becoming regular things for you and Sherlock wasn't exactly sure if he liked it considering it always seemed to be on his account. You would tell him your answer later, if you didn't decide to ignore him again. But he would just have to wait and see.