Outside, snow cascaded down from the darkening sky, and I, Hazel Wong was glad that, for once, I was inside my warm, cosy apartment sipping Earl Grey tea instead of going on a harebrained adventure that was quite likely to get me killed.

I idly turned a page of Agatha Christie's 'Murder on the Orient Express.' It appears that at some point, my girlfriend Daisy Wells has infected me with her love for a good murder mystery, although I was completely fine with only having solved the one murder on that train.

After Daisy and I graduated from Deepdean, her Uncle Felix employed us as spies (or covert operatives as Daisy likes to call them). We either spent our days at crime scenes, undergoing undercover operations (Daisy's favourite) or cracking secret messages in Headquarters (my favourite). It was scarily similar to our school days, except that this time we were cooperating with the police, instead of playing the part of schoolgirl vigilantes.

That brings me back to tonight. Daisy was staking out a serial killer with Inspector Priestley, which she seemed rather excited about (for however much she tried to hide it, I always caught the manic gleam that appeared briefly in her eyes whenever she discussed that particular assignment). I am glad that she has something interesting to occupy her tonight, as i've caught Daisy on a few occasions praying for God to "arrange a nice murder" for her to solve.

I dearly hope that it doesn't come to that.

Suddenly there was a sharp rap at the door, and I spilled hot tea all over my lap. I swore (rather loudly), then slapped my hand over my mouth in surprise. I hobbled to the door, and unlatched it hurriedly so I could pull it open. Daisy stood on the welcome mat, stomping her boots to remove the ice. Bits of snow were tangled in her long blonde hair, which was partially covered by a grey fedora. Her cheeks were flushed and pink from the cold, and her eyes were bright.

It was only when she was hanging up her coat and hat that I noticed the blood.

"I say, Daisy, you're bleeding!"

"Shhhhh Watson," Daisy hissed under her breath, her forehead creased in indignation, "really, for a covert operative you are awfully obvious!" I glared at her.

"Oh alright," Daisy sighed exasperatedly, as if my concern was arbitrary. She unbuttoned her blouse (which normally would have made me blush), to show me a hastily wrapped bandage around her midsection. She undid it gingerly, revealing a gash near her ribs that was bleeding rather heavily. "It's only a light stabbing," she claimed as she fetched clean bandages and rewrapped the wound.

"A light stabbing?!" I exclaimed, before adding slightly more quietly, "Daisy, you should go to a hospital!"

"Really Hazel," Daisy tried to explain, "he wasn't even a very good criminal! We have his fingerprints because he left his knife at the crime scene! He couldn't even stab me properly!" She sat down, wincing slightly, which she immediately tried to hide, although I noticed. "Now Hazel, fetch me your sewing kit."

I stared at her, and she gazed back at me, completely serious.

"This is absolutely ridiculous Daisy!" I spluttered, "I shall take you to a hospital!"

"Not yet!" she protested fiercely, her blue eyes alight with determination.

"Daisy!"

"Hazel!"

"Enough!" I insisted, pointing at the door and crossing my arms. Daisy gaped at me, rather astonished, for I am not usually one to raise my voice. It seems that a lifetime with Daisy Wells has begun to rub off on me. Astonishingly, I find that I quite like the idea.

"Fine," she groaned, defeated, before she perked up and included eagerly, "but I should like to spend a few minutes with you first."

Call it a detective's intuition, but I could tell that she meant it.

And I could tell that she would be as stubborn as a mule if I didn't grant her her wish.

"Oh...alright, I suppose. Only a few though," I decided.

"Yes," Daisy said a little breathlessly, I suppose, alarmingly, from blood loss. I refill the kettle and place it on the stove to make Daisy a cup of tea, before taking down the biscuit tin from the shelf and giving her an oatmeal raisin, which is her favourite. She takes it gratefully, taking a bite and closing her eyes in appreciation.

"Hazel," she hesitates briefly, blushing slightly before continuing, "I'm not good with emotions and...feelings. I suppose that I've always thought they were unnecessary, made for girls who shall marry lords and gentlemen. I now know that I was...wrong." She paused at this, wrinkling her brow like she thought the word was unsavoury. "But I don't think that I've ever loved anyone as much as I love you."

Her throat bobs at this, like she thinks that I am going to leave. I kiss her forehead gently, resting my chin on the top of her head.

"And I love you, my Daisy, more than anyone else in the world."

She tugs on my collar, pulling me down so she can capture a sweet kiss on my lips.

"I'll always be here for you Holmes," I add lovingly.

Daisy's eyes are all misty.

"And I you, Watson," she replies softly.

"And I you."