moon•struck ; unable to think or act normally, especially as a result of being in love.

Sherlock never considered himself a ‘Romantic person’. “Married to his work,” he’d say. And he never really considered the fact that someone may find him attractive. Or even fall in love with him, given how standoffish and blunt he was, Holmes would expect that anyone in their right mind would never fall for him, of all people on this earth to choose from.. Him. And he never thought himself that he could ever fall so damn head-over-heels for anyone. Never. Perhaps he was wrong on that assumption-

You. You seemed to prove him, him, wrong, at every turn, all occasions. Your smile, the fact that you seemed to.. Genuinely... Care for him. No matter what, Sherlock found himself genuinely enamoured by you, your everything. You were just the opposite of him. No matter how dismissive he would be around you, almost trying to push you away in a sense- Not to try and hurt you or get rid of you- but to just try get a grip on his own feelings. Normally that was no challenge, but damn you. Breaking his composure, his control.

He felt like his sanity was just barely hanging on by a thread at this point!

Sitting on the couch, quietly enjoying the silence of his apartment. One tiny problem.. You. In the kitchen, doing what Holmes assumed was making yourself a drink, a hot one, you two were working on a case together because Watson was out of town for a week. A week! But anyways. You were the best option he had left, and you were actually quite clever, not as clever as he was, of course not! That would be laughable. Still, smart. Probably coffee, to keep yourself awake. Not a bad idea.

“Black, no sugar, if you don’t mind. We may be here for a while.” Sherlock called out in your direction. He always has his coffee like that. How did you like yours? He mused after turning his head away from the kitchen that you hadn’t left yet, not exactly waiting for your response.