It was a known fact that Sherlock Holmes was an odd man. Some might say insane, others might say interesting but no matter where their description was on the scale from different to psychopath, everyone agreed that he was not ‘normal.’ He didn’t want to be, not anymore. He had a brain beyond most humans could even comprehend, why would he want to be like everyone else when everyone else couldn’t keep up with him? He didn’t. But he definitely wished that he could love normally.

Up until meeting you, Sherlock had never cared for ‘love.’ It was nothing more than a mere chemical reaction of the brain. You changed that. You made his brain spark with chemistry and, suddenly, love didn’t only feel like a surge of dopamine but a whole new reason to live.

He wasn’t the ideal boyfriend, likely never would be: he was awkward; monotone; terrible with social cues; and emotionally distant… alongside a few other things. Definitely not the picture perfect partner but he was completely and utterly in love with you. He tried to be normal — he even bought you flowers and smiled sweetly when listening to you talk.

It didn’t take long for him to realise that flowers weren’t his thing. Nor were sweet smiles and loving, whispered nothings. His kind of love was making room on his shelves for your things, wearing his detectives hat because it had made you laugh that one time, or taking you along to crime scenes and thinking aloud rather than disappearing to his mind palace. His kind of love was showing you his passion and trusting that you wouldn’t judge him for it. His kind of love didn’t show on his face but in the beats of his heart.

He just hoped that he did enough to show that.