John used to say he was peculiar. That he was too apathetic, too stoic. He used to scowl as a response. His detachment is the reason why he has this job; the reason why he was perfect for this job. If anything, it was John who was peculiar, he feels too much, cares too much. But then again as Mycroft always points out, feelings is John's job, staying out of it is Sherlock's.

Meddling with sentiment would be his downfall.

Well, damn Mycroft for his near omniscience. Damn him for being right.

As always.

And yes, he is cursing.

Because she is standing in front of him, looking at his eyes while he maps the brown ridges at hers and somehow, it feels wrong.

It never felt wrong before.

Her eyes is teeming with confusion and questions. He's already used to that look. They all throw it at him. Even John, when they first met. But somehow seeing it in her face disturbs him. It is obvious that she doesn't know his side of the story. No one ever did, but they didn't make this much difference. He had come to know so much about her that a part of him expected that she will just…know.

Of course that's fool's hope.

But he's not a fool. He was never the fool.

A/N. This is set in an alternate universe. I can't tell you more, you'll see why. I'm afraid this could also get a bit messy and confusing that is why I cut this into small chapters. Just always be on the look out for subtle hints. If it get's confusing, there will be an explanation at the very end (although I hope it won't get to that because it means I didn't get the essence of what I wanted to do.)

In the end, please do enjoy.