Written in the Stars

Day Five: Kissing

The flat was quiet, calm, and still. I was sitting on the floor in front of Sherlock's chair with my eyes closed. In my mind I could see the room. I could name every book on the shelf as they were placed. I could describe every scrap of paper, collected by the Consulting Detective, and were to find it. I knew every inch of this flat, every crack, every blemish, every broken or bruised piece of it, and with my eyes closed now I could describe my home to a blind man. I could paint the picture in his minds' eye. I could do this not just with my home but any one that I entered. When I entered a flat my eyes sought out the heart of it, the story there. I collected the information and deleted it as necessary; my mind never really stopped moving. It was never quiet, calm, and still.

Until Sherlock Holmes kissed me that is.

He was kneeling on the floor across from me, one cool hand cupping my face as he pressed his lips to mine. I hadn't expected it, but then again I never really knew what to expect from this man. As I sat there, my lips hungry for his, I didn't think. I didn't think about the good or the bad of this. I didn't think about my sister's long time crush on the man and I didn't think about John's joy over the "inevitable coming true". I just smiled, enjoying this brief moment of quiet, calm, and still.