Recently, Sherlock has begun to observe and obsess over his latest fascination. You. You were mentally complex, practically his favorite puzzle to solve. You were naive yet smart, a people pleaser yet observant, you cared about what others thought of you but you are simultaneously self aware of the point of a deep understanding of your own psychological state. At first, his observation with you was just something to pass the time, just chatting with the girl who lived in the flat next to his, but he was wrong. It developed into a near obsessional desire to understand every part of your being down to the last thought on your mind. But this obsession became irritation, irritation with everyone who didn’t see you as he did. He lays on the couch, getting more and more irritated by every detail of your day you excitedly tell him. Why didn’t that coworker know she was being sarcastic? Why did her friend not realize she only wears those earrings on special occasions? Why did that person on the street not realize she wanted to be smiled at? And the moment someone knocks on his door and she answers it, a salesman for some mirrors with clearly painted over frames and terrible woodwork, he snaps, standing and approaching the door with long strides “For gods sake, you only need to knock once. And kindly get that ridiculous thing out of my sight, she has spectrophobia. Imbecile.” he rants on as he slams the door shut in the salesman’s face