When Astrid woke up, she was lying on a couch with a blanket tucked around her. It took her a minute to remember where she was. Sherlock. She sat bolt upright and looked around the room. He was sitting across the room, typing away at his laptop. "Um, Mr. Holmes?"

He looked up. "Please don't start with that 'Mr.' business. What?"

"I- I was just wondering how I got here."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated. "How else were you supposed to get there? I carried you."

"You-"

"Yes, do we really need to dwell on that? Now, if you're done 'fangirling', I'm trying to think."

Astrid looked around. John was out. That meant she was alone with Sherlock. Alone... with Sherlock. Oh, boy. She sat up, and immediately felt dizzy. "Whoa," She muttered as she fell back down, her hand holding her head.

"Are you alright?" He glanced back at her.

"Yea. Um, how long was I out?"

Sherlock checked his watch. "Oh, about three hours or so."

"What? Didn't you try to wake me?"

"Well, I was going to, but John said to leave you be. By the way, you're slipping into that accent again. I find it almost insulting to think I sound like that to an American such as yourself... what was I doing? Ah, never mind. I've lost it." He closed the laptop with a sigh, then looked over at Astrid. "You aren't sleeping in a hotel, I hope."

"Um, well, where else would I stay?"

Sherlock looked slightly embarrassed. Wait, embarrassed? Sherlock Holmes? "I was... going to offer the room downstairs. It's a little rundown and dirty, but... If- if you want, I could stay down there and you could..." He trailed off.

Astrid was confused. Sherlock was willing to give up his comfort to a girl he hardly knows. Maybe it was because she was a girl. "No, it's fine. I'll just get my stuff from-"

"-Already got it down there."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess?"

He flashed one of his quick, rare smiles. "Well, the only thing missing is a person to sleep there. It's just about 10 o'clock. You might want to get to bed."

"Thanks. I'll just..." She beamed at him. "Thank you, Sherlock."

As she headed downstairs, she could've sworn she heard him say, "Don't mention it... Astrid."

The next few days went by in a blur. Astrid was mainly Sherlock's "Watson Replacement", meaning that she had to get everything for him, even if he was a mere two feet away (sometimes less). She enjoyed observing Sherlock do his work; seeing what he did to concentrate, what tiny things he observed from the smallest details, etc. Of course, she wanted to help, too. But, he just wouldn't give her a chance. And, of course, she was too shy to give him what-for. So, she did what he asked, all in hopes that he would ask for her help sometime.

Unfortunately, that "sometime" came in the most unexpected way.

It happened one day when Astrid came back from having her first day off. She met John at the door, so they walked inside together. They entered Sherlock's room only to hear a strange thumping noise coming from the kitchen. John looked down at Astrid, who looked back at him. They were both thinking the same thing. What is going on?

They both rushed in to find Sherlock sitting on a stool, his hand on a cutting board with his fingers spread out, stabbing a knife back and forth in the spaces between them; getting faster and faster. Astrid could hear him muttering, "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored..."

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed, "What do you think you're doing?"

At John's outburst, Sherlock jumped, causing the knife to miss its target...

...and stab the outside of Sherlock's hand.

He turned around, exasperation written all over his face. "Oh, thank you John, for ruining my concentration!" He turned back to the knife, which was stuck in the cutting board. With a grunt, he pulled it free, allowing blood to spill out onto the table.

Astrid stood shocked, but not for very long. She rushed over and grabbed the knife out of Sherlock's grasp, then tossed it into the sink. She then proceeded to yell at him. "What do you think you're doing, you bloody idiot? You could have killed yourself! Who do you think you are, a three-year-old who doesn't understand the meaning of the word dangerous?"

"You're doing that accent again."

"I don't care!" She yelled. All three of them were stunned by her outburst, but she kept going. "Why were you doing that in the first place?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes like she was completely stupid. "I'm bored. And, John said I couldn't shoot holes in the wall again."

"You know what? I don't know why I care so much, because you obviously don't!"

"Well, it's probably because you feel there is some sort of connection between us; even though your hypothesis couldn't be further from the truth."

Astrid took a step back, her face stricken. Then, turning away to hide the tears that sprang into her eyes, she ran down to the basement and collapsed on her bed.