Sherlock's bow lips began to tremble at this new feeling. He didn't understand. And he didn't like not understanding.
She was different. He wasn't sure how he knew, but she was. She held his interest in a way no other human had ever done. She didn't even have to say anything to capture his attention.
His fingers began to twitch as he deduced her. His judgement was clouded by a strange thumping in his chest, his thoughts were blurred by some new emotion bubbling up in amongst his ideas. His mind palace was flooded with questions, words cascading down the spiral staircase, engulfing him.
He understood the evolutionary reasons for his interest. He even understood the aesthetic reasons. But why her? What made her stand out so brilliantly? Sherlock wondered what made her shine so brightly in a world where everything else was just shades of grey to a mind like his.
His eyes scanned her, devouring every inch of her appearance, clutching at any clues to her he could find. There were so few.
Maybe that was it. She was a mystery, and that made her attractive... or was it the other way around? Was it because Sherlock found her attractive that she instantly became a mystery?
Sherlock pressed his lips together in an attempt to stop them shaking. His hands clenched, open, closed, as he was fighting an urge to blurt the words swimming in his head.
He rarely showed such restraint. He wondered what was happening to him. Photographing her perfection with his mind one more time, he stepped forward after only a moment's hesitation and reached out a hand, "Hello. I'm Sherlock Holmes. Consulting Detective."
