A Doctor, a Detective and a Baby

John

The crime scene was crowded with forensic scientist and police officers. Greg was talking to Anderson about something. As we approached they stopped and Greg started to lead us to the body
"Victim was in their mid 30s, female with suspected epilepsy," he lifted up the police tape so we could get past, "Found dead here about 13 hours ago. She's been shot in the back but the cause of death appears to be drowning". We got to the body, where Sherlock started to examine it by tuning it over. To my surprise, it was covered in burns and blisters.
'I thought you said she was drowned and shot?" I quizzed Greg.
"That's the other thing. When she was found, the room had just been set on fire. It was only just put out in time, otherwise the body wouldn't be recognisable". He replied then immediately headed over to talk to Anderson again.
"So any deduction yet?" I bent down to talk to Sherlock.
"Only a few. The murderer drowned her in a swimming pool and left her there for a while due to the fact the clothes are slightly faded. She was then brought her and shot as there is blood everywhere but not as much as there would be if she was still alive. In an attempt to cover up the murder, he then set the room on fire, hoping to get rid of all evidence,". I stood up and turned to Greg. "You're looking for a man in his early twenties with a black and white cat and a history of heart disease".
"Bloody hell, how did you get all that?" Greg asked with his usual amazement. After all these years, I was starting to pick up tips from Sherlock, so I had partially figured it out.
"You're just guessing," Anderson snapped at him. He hated it when Sherlock solved the case before he did, which was all the time. Sherlock turned to him with a bored look.
"I never guess, Anderson," he turned around dramatically, "Come on John, Rosie will be waiting".

When we got back to the flat, we found Rosie sleeping for a change. That didn't last for long. As soon I started to leave her cot, she started screaming again. I groaned. Sherlock came over. He had a knack for get her to sleep, despite his dislike of most people. Mary used to get her to sleep easily as well. How come everyone but me can do it? Once he had calmed her down, we went to living room where I checked to see if there were any new cases for us. Strangely there weren't.
"Have you seen this?" I asked Sherlock, turning to look at him.
"Hmm? What?" He was examining an eyeball.
"No new cases for about... two weeks. Only the ones from Greg,".
"Who?" I frustratedly groaned again.
"Greg Lestrade,".
"Oh right," I knew he wouldn't remember who Greg was, "And yes I had noticed that,"
"Why do you think that is?" And whose eyeball is that?"
"Probably because everyone now knows I'm an arrogant prick,".
"Well, they're not wrong," I chuckled to my self.
"And the eyeball's belongs to your grandmother,"
"WHAT?!" I stood up, infuriated, "What happened to her?"
"Oh, she died of natural causes. But your mother said I could use the eye for experiments,". At this point Rosie began to cry again, "I'll go," he muttered and left. I sank back down to my chair. He was certainly the most arrogant bastard I knew. And his inconsideration for everyone else drove me motherfucking crazy. Don't even get me started on how he actually talks about my 'complete and utter incompetency. But despite all of this there was something about him, that drew me to him. Was it his eyes, his intelligence, his lack of understanding of human nature that made him so innocent? Was it the way he always knew what was going on, that he knew what I was thinking, that he always could think if something to say? But he never knew how to react. How would he react, if I told him my real feelings?

How would he react if I told him that I loved him?