***Hey guys! I want to tell you guys thanks. I can't believe I'm past 90 days already. I remember on day 50 and doing a happy dance. Thank you for over 750 reads. It means a lot to me. Anyway, this is a continuation of my Sherlock Fanfiction (get over it:D) and I wrote it during flex in school today. I was wondering, should I make this Sherlock thing its own story? Hmmmmm. here it is, anyway:
*Gwen's POV**
I felt Sherlocks eyes going over me, analyzing everything about me. He could probably tell me what my favorite colour was by the smell of my shampoo. I wouldn't be surprised. I'd read John's blog. Sherlock looked me up and down, muttering to himself. Things like "hmm, yes." and "quite." John was growing impatient. "Hey Sherlock," He said, agitated.
"What?" Sherlock asked, not removing his eyes from me.
"Keep your eyes," John took my hand and pulled me close to him. "off my girlfriend." Sherlock stood up straight and looked John in the eye. John was shorter, but anyone could tell that John held the dominant role.
"Why." Sherlock asked, sounding bored. John opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him. What Sherlock didn't know, was that I was analyzing him just as he was me.
"Sherlock. I am not going to be a piece in your little game. You do this for attention, approval. To show off. I could tell by the smirks at the corner of your mouth after you would solve something. Sorry, but I have no need to be impressed. Your composure, closed personalty, and the emotionless glare suggests a troubled childhood." I took a quick look at John before continuing. "Your need for attention says you were ignored. An older sibling, perhaps? The shining star? No body saw your brilliance and only saw their so called 'greatness.' They got the recognition while you sat in the corner, unnoticed, or unbothered, which is probably how you saw it. The way you just looked down at sibling mention suggests an older brother, not sister. Obviously, by the way you've spoken and looked at John, he is your closest companion, considering you treat gun with a sliver of respect, not nearly what he deserves, mind you, but that sliver is more than you've given anyone else. You have a nicotine addiction, a severe one by the looks of it. You're trying to quit, but it's not your decision... John has probably influenced you. As I say his name, John's name, your pupils fluxuate just a bit. You're the "consulting detective." What does that say, Mister Holmes?"
I finished, crossing my arms over my chest, and taking a couple of steps towards Sherlock. We were about 1/2 a meter apart. Once again, John stared at me, in wonder and facination. Sherlock looked...... Intrigued. Confused. And something else... was it hurt? Does Sherlock Holmes actually have emotions? He leaned down to whisper in my ear. His hands were clasped behind his back as he spoke.
"Yes, of course I know what it means. Saying that, how comes yours did the same thing when my hand touched yours only for a second?" He whispered, sending chills down my spine. I wasn't about to let him win. I loved John, and only John. Sherlock was too arrogant and snarky for my taste. He stiffened and looked down at me, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. He then walked down the hall into what I presumed was his bedroom.
"What did he say to you?" John said, taking a step towards me. I turned to face him. He looked worried, upset, and a bit hurt. I brought up my right hand and ran it through his sandy blonde hair. He closed his eyes and took my free hand in his.
"John, I promise you, it's nothing of importance. He's trying to make me..... I don't know. Feel guilty about you." I said softly, letting my hand fall and leaning into him. He was about to speak when I took advantage of it. I closed the space between us and he put his hand around my waist. After almost a full minute of that, we lay down on the sofa to watch some crap telly.
John was slightly sitting up, his back against the armrest, I was half on, half next to him, leaning on his chest. Every once in a while, he would kiss the top of my head or whisper something to me. After a few episodes about some old bat giving pre-teen girls relationship advice, I fell asleep.
**John's POV**
After Gwen fell asleep, I couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said previously. Sherlock? Being deduced by somebody else? Strange, that. Gwen was such a sweet girl, a little quirky, but relatively normal. Smart, witty, but also shy and timid sometimes. I'd known her for around two weeks. To see her, I would make up excuses to Sherlock. He didn't really care anyways, so what would it matter? He'd already ruined so many of my relationships. I had pretty much given up on love. Until one day, I decided to head to the little cafe across the street from our flat. I needed some space after a particularly gory murder. I had ordered a small latte for myself, and sat down at one of the little tables with my laptop. I had just started to write about the case when a girl, a beautiful girl, around late twenties, early thirties, walked past. She looked around to find no empty tables.
"You cansit with me, if you like." I said, looking up at her. She turned quickly, her long brown ponytail swinging behind her. She regarded me, thankful.
"Thank you so much." She said, pulling out a chair. I closed the lid on my laptop and laced my fingers under my chin. "It's almost impossible to find a spot in this bloody cafe sometimes."
"Yeah..." I said, examining her. She was single, no kids, judging by the outfit and her hair.... no jewelry, except a pair of earrings. They looked a littel old for her, so I assumed it was- dear god! I was starting to sound like Sherlock! Anyway, we started up a conversation. I learned that she was a pediatrician at the local hospital, and worked night shifts.
"The coffee is just a little pick-me-up. Tea doesn't always do it." She said, smiling down at the table.
I laughed. "Don't I know it!" I really enjoyed talking to her. Eventually, I got a text. Or rather, a group of texts.
Where are you? -SH
Come back. -SH
I looked all around and Mrs. Hudson hasn't seen you either.-SH
John -SH
John, come back to Baker street. -SH
John -SH
Come on, John. -SH
Where are you? -SH
Are you okay, John? -SH
You know I couldn't live without my blogger. -SH
"Is that your phone going off, John?" Gwen asked me.
"Hmm? Ah yes, it is. I'm so sorry." I replied, scrolling.
"Is it important?" She asked, a little hurt.
"Not really. It's my flatmate."
My phone vibrated again.
She smiled. "Well, if he's that persistent, I guess you should go."
I looked at her, thinking, and she smiled. It's okay. She seemed to say.
I'm fine, Sherlock. I'll be home soon. -JW
As I got up to leave, Gwen grabbed my coatsleeve. She tucked something into my pocket. "Nice to meet you, John."
"Pleasure's all mine." I said, taking a step to the door.
"Goodbye, John!" She called after me.
After that day, my life's been changed. She's so beautiful, inside and out. My face lights up just when I see she's texted me. When I'm around her, my old army tough-guy façade just disappears. She makes me happier than I've ever been. And now, she's asleep on my chest. The girl of my dreams.
And I love her with all my heart.
