You and Sherlock were on good terms with each other. Your job as a forensic photographer for the Scotland Yard led to your first meeting. Sherlock of course thought nothing much of you at the start, but that changed almost immediately as you gave him your photos of the latest crime he was investigating. By God! The angles, the lighting, MULTIPLE SHOTS?

They were bloody amazing in his eyes. Better than some other “artists” could try and accomplish.

This led to the both of you forming what you thought was a simple work-based relationship. He would either come by or you would stop at his flat and give him all the prints of new crime scenes, possibly have a chat over some details you thought were interesting, and then be done with it.

…Sherlock somehow became infatuated with you though.

Don’t ask him how he started having these feelings- he has no idea either. Yes, he’s dug into his Mind Palace for answers, but that led to nothing.

Of course he wouldn’t tell you. He was sure they would go away in time and he could go back to having a simple conversation with you without having his mind throughly examining you and admiring slight areas of your appearance. But that didn’t seem possible now..

He had gotten a call from Lestrade one night about a possible murder staged as a suicide. When he and Watson arrived at the flat he came to a sudden realization…

…It was YOUR flat.

Thankfully it wasn’t you who was hanging… but unfortunately it was your brother whom you lived with.

You were taken to a hotel for the night, and Sherlock could tell you were absolutely shaken from having to find your own brother like that. He of course never got along with his own brother- but then again he wasn’t you… You were probably very close to your brother.

But even after that night he couldn’t get you out of his head. Not after examining your brother’s body and confirming that he had indeed been killed before being hanged… Someone killed him.. and now he couldn’t help but be concerned for your own safety at this point.

After a talk with Mrs. Hudson she gladly agreed to have one of the other flats cleared out so you could move in.

John had been concerned that Sherlock was only doing this to take advantage of your vulnerability and confess his feelings for you (which had rapidly developed over the last few months), but Sherlock adamantly denied it. He wasn’t stupid. He knew if he did that he would end up with a slap to the face from you. And he didn’t want you to hate him…

A day passed after you first moved in and Sherlock came down to your door, faintly hearing the sound of a record player playing a rather old song. With a faint knock to the door he managed to grab your attention and you opened it for him. He quickly took notice of the redness around your eyes and the rather rough appearance you had.

It bothered him greatly seeing you this disheveled…

“…Duke Ellington Orchestra?” He nodded his head into your flat, referring to the still playing record player.