Sherlock Holmes didn't know it, but he was wrong when he said that marriage or a relationship wasn't something for him. He didn't know you, he didn't know of your existence, but when on one of his cases he found you, looking at the footprints around the house with curious eyes, he couldn't help but feel something. He couldn't name it, but it was a kind of boiling, overwhelming passion that made him momentarily lose track. When he came to and solved the case, he approached you, but you moved away, wanting space and to be alone. Three years later, on a random autumn in London, you met again at the train station.

Well, well, if it isn't the woman who made me lose my senses.