You're An Idiot, Sherlock Holmes (OC x Sherlock)

Did I Stutter

"The record of our time together," Sherlock stated. "Of course, she does tend to romanticize things a bit, but then, you know," he looked down in my direction and winked, "she's a romantic." I could feel my cheeks flush. "We've tackled some strange cases: the Hollow Client . . . "

~

Entering 221b, my eyes caught a strange sight sitting in my chair. I placed a hand on Sherlock's chest to make him stop walking. "What is it now?" he asked, looking at me. I stared at the suit, which had been laid out exactly as it would appear if anyone was wearing it and sitting in the chair.

"I'm not the only one that can see that, right?" I asked, a little startled.

His eyes finally followed what I was looking at. "My god," he muttered.

"I know." We awkwardly stood in our spots, practically fixed to the floor, ready for the suit to just jump up and shout hello. "If we don't move, it won't notice that we're here," I whispered furtively.

"It's not a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Jane!" Sherlock sulked. 

~

" . . . The Poison Giant . . . "

~

"Get down, Sherlock!" I shouted, pulling on his scarf as we both ducked and avoided the dart. Catching sight of the dart now lodged between bricks of the roof, we continued our pursuit of the culprit of short stature.

~

"We've had some frustrating cases," Sherlock admitted.

~

I took a sip from my mug, not taking my eyes off Sherlock. He was sitting his armchair thoughtfully frowning down at a matchbox in his hands. 

"What is it?" I asked in anticipation, advancing closer to him in my seat.

He looked up at me. "A French decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by one thousand, eight hundred and twelve matchboxes- all empty except this one," he explained.

Standing up, I walked behind to Sherlock and looked over his shoulder at the matchbox. "So what's in this one?"

"The inexplicable." Slowly pushing open the matchbox, he revealed an item that glowed brightly inside it, illuminating our delighted faces. The sight made me drop my mug in surprise, spilling the tea inside it out onto the carpet and muffling the crash of the mug.

"Sher?" I asked in awe, not looking away from the matchbox.

"Yes?"

"I think I'm looking at the face of God," I said, enchanted at the sight.

~

"Some 'touching' cases," listed Sherlock, rolling his eyes at speaking the word.

~

"This is gonna take a while," I said to myself, pulling up a chair by the window. Sherlock was in his armchair, laying back with his head raised to the ceiling and his eyes closed. "She's just standing there. No point in taking her case if she does come up," I said tiredly, propping my head with my hand. The woman hovering outside of Speedy's walked to our door, raising her hand to the doorbell. I shot up my head and leaned forward in anticipation. Excitedly, I said, "Sher, I think she's gonna- nope she walked away again, she changed her mind." My tone now aggravated once more, I sat back in my seat, sprawling my legs out, watching this indecisive woman as my only entertainment. She walked away from our door a few paces before turning around again. "Oh, hold on . . . she's gonna do it . . . no, she's leaving. She's leaving- wait, she's coming back."