Sherlock lays on his couch with his hands folded like he's praying and eyes closed. He's not thinking about a certain subject, just wandering his mind palace. Things hadn't been the same since he kissed you outside the restaurant. Why would he do that? Should he have stayed to talk instead of running away? He regretted his decision but instantly became busy with new cases. Had his phone rang while he was taking his break? That was a possibility. However, he didn't feel like conversing with anyone so he stays in his mind palace, the place he's most comfortable in.

Out of no where, a muffle begins to be heard while wandering the hallways. Who's voice could it be? Was it you, coming to check up on him? Or were you going to be outraged instead?

"Sherlock!" John Watson basically yells. Sherlock's eyes dart open and he begins to look around the room.

"Oh, hello, John," Sherlock states.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?" John folds his arms.

"Do you know how long it's been since you left the flat?" John slightly raises his voice.

"A few hours-"

"Three days, Sherlock. You've gotten messages from clients, Detective Lestrade; people thought you died again! What happened to you?"

Sherlock stands and looks down at John. Has he always been this short? He's almost as tall as [Y/N], Sherlock thinks to himself but quickly shakes away the thought of you. "I guess I fell asleep," Sherlock heads to the kitchen to check on his experiments.

"Fell asleep?" John questions. Suddenly, a thought comes to him. "Is this because of [Y/N]?"

Sherlock freezes. "What about her?"

"Did something happen?"

Sherlock heads to the front door without replying. "I'm heading down to the station to see if Lestrade needs anything."

John chuckles. "Avoiding the question, eh? I get it."

"Would you like to accompany me?" Sherlock puts on his coat, staying on his subject.

"You like her don't you?"

"We better go before all the cabbies are taken-"

"You love her!" John claps his hands. "Brilliant! Sherlock Holmes actually in love. I should call Mary."

"No," Sherlock slams the door. "I am not in love. That is human error and as I've been told plenty of times I am incapable of being human. This minor setback is not going to change anything about who I am. This love nonsense does not mean a thing."

"Ok," John strokes where a beard would be. "But you can't avoid her. She lives very close, I heard she got hired by Greg-"

"Who the hell is Greg?" Sherlock interrupts.

"Detective Lestrade," John sighs. "Anyway, she works for the same station as you, you two work great together so Lestrade will want you two to be partners, she just became friends with Mary, and she was really beginning to enjoy your company. Even though you say you feel nothing, that'll be tested when you see her again."

Before Sherlock could respond, there's a knock on the door. John opens it to find Mary with a smile on her face.

"Hey," John notices her energy. "Lunch went well?"

"Spectacular," Mary sits on the couch. "[Y/N] is just so smart and so- why are you looking at me like that?" Mary questions Sherlock, who seems to stare at her intently since you were mentioned.

"Love struck," John answers. "Finish your story, love."

"I want to see her," Sherlock says. "You said she lives close, how close?"

"Down the street," Mary replies. "She said the funniest thing while we were waiting for our food-"

"Where exactly?" Sherlock interrupts once more.

Mary rolls her eyes and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen. "Don't do anything stupid." Sherlock takes the paper without saying thank you, grabs his coat, and heads toward your apartment.

He had no idea what he was going to say to you since all he was focused on was seeing you. For the first time ever, he felt like an idiot. He made mistakes because he didn't foresee every move before something happened.

Sherlock stands in front of your apartment. He's been standing for around five minutes now, pacing back and forth in front of the door, thinking. You walk out into the hallway, surprised to see him there.

"No, I'm not ready!" Sherlock shouts. "Oh my gosh, [Y/N]. H-How have you been?"

"Um, very good, I suppose," you smile. "How about you? Mary told me that John hadn't heard from you in a while. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," Sherlock clears his throat. "I was just wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me. Are you free tonight?"

"I'm actually going to be in Dublin for the next few days," you gesture to your suitcase. "But you can come with me to the station if you'd like."

Sherlock groans. "Sure. If you don't mind me asking, what's in Dublin?"

"Guess," you say.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock furrows his eyebrows together.

"You are the amazing Sherlock Holmes but in moments we were together, something was off. I want to see your talent. Go on, read me." Is that a smirk on your face?

"Ok," he clears his throat before glancing at you. "The suitcase is small so you're either not staying long or you already have clothes where you are going which makes you a frequent visitor. From your stance, you don't look nervous so you're not going over there to impress someone so it's not for some family reunion. But it is family. A sister, maybe. I noticed in your coat that square, those are tissues. She just went through a breakup. You're going over there to comfort her and maybe get her back into this ridiculous game known as dating."

"Nope," you state.

"No?" Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"Well, yes and no." You call over a taxi and both get in. "The first part is right. I do frequent myself in that part of Ireland and I am going to visit my sister. But not because she is heart broken. She's getting married. And my tissues are for me. I caught a bit of a cold the other day. I can't wear a coat, I'll be standing at the alter in a bridesmaids dress."

"Damn," Sherlock sighs. "I always miss something."

You pat his knee and smile. "You tried." He notices your touch and his eyes widen. He clears his throat again. You see he's uncomfortable and immediately remove your hand. "Sorry," you stare out the window. "I didn't mean to- I mean I wasn't trying to-"

"It's alright," Sherlock interjects. "It was....nice." You nod and go silent. For once, Sherlock hates the quiet. "I enjoy your company."

You smile at him. "Agreed," you almost whisper. It falls silent again. "Why did you kiss me? And then disappear?"

"That," he avoids eye contact, "is something I cannot answer."

"Do you like me?"

"You're a very intelligent, talented wo-"

"Please don't dodge the question."

He finally looks at you. Gosh, does he have the most beautiful blue eyes. "I think I do," he exhales. "I've never experienced so many emotions at once. This is one mystery that I cannot solve with just a glance."

You nod. "Mary was wrong then," your tone lowers.

"Mary?" Sherlock asks. "What does Mary have to do with this?"

"John told her about the case you met me at," you blurt. "She said your actions meant something special. Something that your heart was beginning to feel new things and experience something wonderful. But she was wrong because you view me as a burden."

"No," he grabs your hand. "You're not a burden. These feelings are just extremely difficult to deal with. No woman has ever had the same talent as me. No man has the same talent as me. You took me by surprise but in a good way. Mary is a clever clever woman and always seems to prove me wrong. Both her and you see behind the facade that is my consulting detective and look inside to see the humanity in me. I once called it human error but I see that title is no longer appropriate. I promise you from this moment, I will refer to it, not as an obstacle, but as gift that not many get to receive. Believe me when I say this is the best thing that has happened to me. You are the best thing that's happened to me."

You quickly grab him to wrap your arms around him. Well, as best as you can because of the seat belt. He smiles at the embrace. He is genuinely happy to not feel awkward about a hug. When the hug is finished, he holds your face in his hands. "I will try to not mess this up." You laugh before he pulls you closer to connect your lips to his. Two of the greatest detectives in London, together in a cab. This is not what you expected from the beginning.