Love And Hate Are One And The Same No? A Sherlock x Reader

soulmate au

In your world there was such a thing as soul mates.
The way you found them was simple and hard at the same time. You were given a last name and powers that would compliment your soul mates. Usually they were similar.
Your friend Oliver could create something delicious out of any material and the name Bonnefoy on his wrist. Which was pretty rare in itself so when he found his soulmate Francois it was no surprise that he could make any beverage possible and the name Kirkland on the opposite wrist. They were quite an odd pair Oliver was colorful in all pastels while Francois was more dark in his dress and grooming. But in the end they were still perfect together.
Simple right? No.
You've had no such luck in finding your soulmate. Your powers were simple you could tell how people felt but you couldnt control their feelings like most empaths. The name Holmes is over your heart in a scratchy but beautiful cursive.
You used to be bullied for how weak you are. They would say things like, "Your soulmate must be as pathetic as you are seeing as how weak you are."
Finally after years of that torture you accepted the fact that no one would understand, so when someone asked about your powers or solmate you avoided the subject.
When you grew up you became a investigation news reporter for a highly popular online group. It allowed you to travel to where the news was at.
This week you were in London, England covering a string of murders that no one could solve. You had been put into contact with one Detective Greg Lestrade who was guiding you to the latest crime scene. Rabbling about the facts of the case but you didn't really pay him any attention.
You were mostly worried about the weird change in weather that no one warned you about. It was starting to get rather cold and all you had to keep warm, besides jeans, was your favorite light jacket. Other then that you wore a (F/C) V-neck, so to say you were starting to get cold was probably the understatement of the century.
So being cold and distracted you ran into what felt like a brick wall causing you to fall like those cliche romance movies. It even had the finisher of you looking up at a handsome stranger that you stared up in shock.
"Sherlock can't you look where you're going you knocked over a lady." A sandy haired short man chided a tall curly black haired man.
"I was looking John it was the lady that wasn't paying attention. It seems she didn't dress for the weather so she was worrying more about keeping warm then what was in front of her. In fact if she hadn't ran into me she would have tripped over the raised sidewalk." He putted to the said crack in the sidewalk that was several inches from where it was supposed to be.
His companion stuck his hand out to help you up apologizing profusely. You could feel how sorry he was in waves so to ease his worries you smiled sweetly and shook your head. "There's no need to be sorry like he said I was more worried about how cold I was. No one warned me about London weather so I didn't exactly pack the warmest of clothes." Then your body emphasised your point by causing you to shiver.
To yours, and everyone else's, surprise the taller man took off his coat and placed it on your shoulders.
"Here you can use my coat for the mean time. Now we have a crime scene to investigate." He walked away with John, without letting you say so much as a thank you.
"Strange he's usually not that freindly," mused Lestrade, "He's right though we have to get to the crime scene."
This wasn't your first crime scene so the view shouldn't have shocked you, but the way the body was butchered beyond recognition made you want to empty the contents of your stomach into the nearest waste bin. A few men actually did causing them to leave the room. The majority of the organs were placed on the side table, intestines were hung like Christmas lights around the room. A smell of unspeakable nastiness was filling the room. It reminded you of the last Jack the Ripper victim.
Without really realizing it you said your thoughts out loud. "If I didn't know better I'd say someone was playing copycat."
Sherlock was looking around the room with his little magnifying glass, "You're quite right, whoever did this definitely wanted us to know that he's  copying Jack the Ripper if it wasn't obvious before from his first victims."
"Does that mean he'll disappear like the original murder?" You inquire.
"