It was a stormy night, almost midnight and Sherlock was going to wrap up for the day. His tobacco dangles between his lips as he closes put on his coat and take his umbrella. When suddenly, you burst into his agency, all wet and soaked. You were breathless, and you look at him sheepishly. He raises an eyebrow, amused and confused.

"Evening ma'am. Apologies, but the agency is closing." His deep voice rumbles, his soft ocean eyes piercing through yours.