Strangest Stranger

19

(Still Flashback)

"So, I'm almost positive that your professor killed this woman." Sherlock says, pointing at a picture that's on the kitchen table.

"Hey, she's been in my class before! She was a student. I don't remember hearing that she died. I just saw her one day, looking distraught, then the next day she wasn't there. Why do you think my professor did it?"

He looks at me with a 'you-really-don't-see-it' look, then says, "When her body was found, I deduced that she had a partner of some sort. She had a bruise on her neck, along with the smell of a man's cologne. When I was in the school, I caught a whiff of it, walking by your class, and seeing that there was no teacher, I just went in. When I was looking in the drawers, I saw a few notes, and a bottle of the same cologne that I smelt on the woman. Need any more proof?"

"Um, yeah. How do we know that it wasn't another man? Every guy I've met wears that cologne."

Sherlock says, "I don't."

I blurt, "Yeah, I know that. You're different."

It's silent for a few moments as I read the notes, and I glance out of the corner of my eye to see Sherlock staring at me.

"What?" I ask "What'd I say?"

He just looks at me as if he lost his train of thought. Then he comes back into reality, and looks down at the pictures and files, muttering, "Nothing, it's fine."

I roll my eyes, then continue to study the pictures. Why is he acting so weird? I've only known him for a few days, and I know this is not normal for him! Does he like me, or something? Wait, he doesn't show emotion, so how could he like me?

(A little while later)

I fall up the stairs to 221B, my exhausted body failing me. I lean on the door for a minute, getting ready to knock, when the door jerks open, and I fall on something.

A voice under me says, "Alliana, are you okay?"

I realize that I'm lying on top of Sherlock, but I don't get up. He just looks at me, his beautiful blue-green eyes staring into my muddy brown ones. His eyes look curious, as if he's not sure what to do.

I mutter, laying my head on his chest, "So...tired..." My eyes drift closed, and I basically fall asleep on him. Not completely though, because I could still hear and feel.

I feel him push me off of him gently, then he picks me up, and carries me to the couch. He lays me down, then he says something, but I don't catch it. I feel his fingers brush my forehead, most likely getting my hair out of my face.

I feel his warm breath on my face as he whispers, "I'm pretty sure you were drugged, but you're okay. I've got you."

I smile on the inside, then feel his soft, warm lips on my skin, under my right eye, and my heart flutters like a butterfly. Maybe he does like me. When his hand brushes my face, I sleepily grab his hand to keep it on my face. I completely fall asleep, with Sherlock right next to me.