I woke with a start and it was dark when I did. I had slept all day… I wondered if Sherlock had too. I was on the couch, but now I was covered in a blanket from Sherlock's bed and there was a pillow tucked under my head. There was a dull throbbing above my eye where I had been hit and I scrunched up my nose at the unpleasant feeling.

I had been dreaming… dreaming of something that had startled me, but I had no idea what that was now. Funny how I could always remember the stupid dreams I had but when it came to startling dreams or cool dreams, I was useless at remembering. I sighed then breathed in deeply.

The blanket smelled like him. He smelled so good.

I almost slapped myself. I was being unprofessional. I was just his neighbor. And he was a detective: a non-emoting man that probably didn't even notice his own smell half the time.

He's allowed to smell nice, I argued against myself. I added that to my list of characteristics. He was a nice smelling detective. I left it at that.

I snuggled farther into the covers and looked around the room. It was just as untidy as Sherlock always kept it although it was much quieter than it had been in the past. I heard a patting and rolled onto my other side so as to see out the window.

It was raining outside and I felt a cool breeze drift across me. Another window across the room was open slightly and I could smell the rain from outside. I closed my eyes. The rain's aroma along with Sherlock's filled my head and I couldn't help but think of only pleasant things.

I heard a faint whistling and breathed deeply. It was raining and the kettle was done boiling. Soon I would have a nice cup of tea in my hands and all would be perfect with the world.

But… I hadn't put the kettle on. Cautious footsteps entered the room and I opened my eyes.

I sat up slowly and propped myself against the pillows beneath my head. I curled my feet up to myself and looked up at Sherlock. I thought faintly about wishing I had checked my reflection, but I decided to forget about it since I was going to keep this on the down low….

Wait, this? Did I like him? No, of course I didn't. I had just been stuck with him for a few days. It was in the laws of nature: if you're stuck with someone of the opposite gender for a period of time, you eventually become attracted to them. It happens all the time on movie sets, why couldn't it happen to real people? Of course it happened to real people, but they got over it. No, I didn't like him; I was just being acted upon by nature.

Who was I kidding? Of course I liked him. And I was keeping it on the down low.

He sat down on the other end of the couch leaving me with only seconds to spare from my internal argument. He had a cup of freshly brewed tea in his hands and I almost laughed. So, Sherlock had finally learned to make his own tea. I wasn't sure if I was happy for him or sad that he would no longer be dependent on me to make him tea.

"I thought you didn't make tea."

"Not for myself," he said and turned toward me, handing me the cup. My eyes landed accidentally on his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down.

You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen. "That's not something I need help with."

"You don't want my tea?" he said mordantly.

"Only if you have some, too."

He sighed and pursed his lips before standing up and going back to the kitchen. I looked at the tea for a moment, then decided maybe it wasn't poisoned… although I wasn't completely sure of anything.

He came back a few moments later with another steaming cup and stuck a spoon in it to stir it. He sat down on the couch again and focused his attention on his tea. I couldn't take my attention from him although I did manage to take a sip of my own tea.

Sherlock turned the television on and I focused my eyes on it, although that was definitely not what my brain was focused on.

A small red flag went up in the back of my head. It wasn't enough to send me running, but it was enough for me to wait until Sherlock had taken a drink before I did. The drink was fine; better than fine actually… and the fact that Sherlock was the person to make it made it even better.

Shut up, shut up! I told myself.

The red flag stayed up, but I couldn't figure out why. There was nothing wrong with the room that I saw. The only difference was the blanket on top of me… and Sherlock at the end of the couch.

We sat quietly for the next few minutes and I finished my tea, getting every last drop of the liquid before lowering my mug. I heard Sherlock get up, but I didn't look, no matter how much I wanted to. He hadn't bothered to button up his shirt.

I almost expected him to ask to take my cup, but I figured this was as nice as he was going to get. He came over to me and I looked up sat him as if to say "what?" He didn't ask, no, but he did take my cup and return it to the kitchen. It was almost a slap in the face in either direction.

"Thanks," I said and he disappeared into the kitchen. Just then it dawned on me.

That little red flag was sort of a sad little flag. It was only red because I wasn't used to Sherlock being gentlemanly. I wasn't used to him making me things or taking my dishes (and I most definitely wasn't used to him wandering about with his shirt unbuttoned).

I almost wanted to apologize to him for the little red flag, but it was rightfully earned. All he ever did before this week was insult me and refuse to apologize. But why the sudden change of heart?

"Can I get you anything else?" he called from the kitchen.

"No, I'm fine thank you," I said.

Was he starting to like me…?

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

I chuckled, "Yes, I'm sure, Sherlock."

Did he already like me…?

He appeared in the kitchen doorway. "There's nothing else that I can get you from the kitchen?" he asked and I almost thought he was referring to himself….

I smiled, "Not right now."

He liked me.

And I was going to explode.

I stood up before I could. "Do you think you'll need me any more tonight?" I asked. Wrong question? I hoped Sherlock was smooth with his answer.

"If you want to go upstairs, you are certainly welcome to go when you like. Don't let me keep you here." Double meaning?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to seem like I didn't want to stay…" Too nice! "I just have some more important business up there than down here." Too stupid? "I'll come back down in the morning. John and I have an agreement." Okay?

"Of course," he said crossed to the door and opened it for me. I walked to the door and flashed him a smile. Something took me over and I found myself doing something I would not have done on a normal day.

"Thanks for everything," I said and put my arms around him, embracing him. He didn't seem to know what to do for a moment and I felt red grow in my cheeks, ready for full embarrassment when I let go. Then, I guessed to humor me, he put his arms on the small my back and hugged back.

My brain screamed and I grew warmer.

I let him go.

He smiled, saying nothing, perhaps trying not to incriminate himself. I walked out the door and back up to my flat without another word. The stairs seemed longer than usual and I wanted to scream. I was such a fool.

I locked the door and positioned myself on the couch so I could see it. I didn't know what I expected from the door and I didn't know if I wanted it, but I expected something from it and whatever it was, I was going to be ready. I wondered if some giant monster would walk in and say, "YOU THERE, ADDISON LANE, YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT," and continue to devour my very soul.

I sighed, feeling the horrible aftermath of sheer embarrassment and laid down on my couch, squeezing my eyes closed in hopes that it would somehow make the feeling disappear.