The first time you met Sherlock Holmes had been in the middle of a case. Well, he was. You had been in the middle of a large café americano and a reread of your favorite classic while you enjoyed a sunny afternoon on a bench in the park. With a twirl of a grey trench coat, someone sat beside you, much closer than proper for a stranger.

You glanced up in surprise and immediately recognized the man. Beyond the fact his face had graced the paper more than once, you were an acquaintance of John Watson. You'd had the occasion to discuss his roommate once or twice. "What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?" you asked, feigning disinterest and turning your attention back to your book.

From the corner of your eye you saw the brief look of surprise that crossed his features. "As you know who I am, this will be much simpler than I was fearing. The man I am following is at the café across the way. He appears to be waiting for someone. It is imperative I remain undetected."

You made a sound of agreement and nodded your head. "And as anyone looking for a tail would suspect a person on their own, you chose to sit beside me in the hopes he'll overlook you. Is that about right?"

"Precisely." You weren't sure if Sherlock's tone was more confused or surprised.

You slid your bookmark into place and closed your book to turn your attention to the detective. "You don't seem as confident as John describes you."

He rolled his eyes at that and laid one arm across the back of the bench behind your shoulders. "Let me guess. Another fan of that bloody blog."

"Nope. Friend of John's."

He tilted his head and ran his eyes over you. "He hasn't mentioned a teacher to me."

Your lips twitched. "Wrong. I did present a lecture today which is where the chalk dust came from."

A crease formed on his forehead before smoothing itself out. "That's the third time you've surprised me in a matter of moments. It is most unsettling."

You sipped your drink before giving him a small smile. "John keeps telling me that it would do you good to meet me. Perhaps that's what he was getting at. Your quarry is leaving." You gestured toward the man leaving the café.

Sherlock looked at the man and back to you. "How did you...never mind. I must go."

Your gaze followed him as he hurried away but you had the feeling you'd be seeing him again.

***

Your second encounter with the consulting detective was a week later. John had requested talking over lunch.

The two of you had just finished your meal and your conversation about Sherlock when the man himself appeared.

John glanced up in surprise when his friend appeared beside your table. "Sherlock? How did you know where to find me?"

"He either followed you or looked at your texts, John," you supplied. "Does it matter?"

The doctor sighed. "No, I suppose not."

"Have a seat, Sherlock," you said, gesturing at one of the empty chairs at your table.

The man did as you suggested, his gaze never leaving yours. You glanced at John in amusement as Sherlock had yet to say a word to either of you.

When he finally spoke, you leaned back in your chair in amusement.

"You are Y/N Y/L/N," he started. "You are an author of some note though you are between books at the moment. You have a cat. No. Two cats. You are not currently seeing anyone though you were married once. Widowed."

His eyes searched you, daring you to tell him he was wrong. "I am assuming my name and occupation you got from John. I am between books as you no doubt ascertained from the fact I have the time to read in the park and meet friends for long lunches. I have a fish but no cat. The couple next door is on vacation and I've been taking care of their two cats, Oatmeal and Cornflake. Hence, the cat hair. You are correct that I am not seeing anyone at the moment, but I have never been married. The ring on my right hand belonged to my father."

Pleased at having flabbergasted the great Sherlock Holmes once more, you stood. "It was lovely as always, John. I'll see you soon."

"Of course, Y/N," he agreed and stood to give you a kiss on the cheek.

"Dinner?" Sherlock called out as you stepped away from the table.

You turned back in surprise. "What's that?"

"Dinner. Tomorrow night. 8 o'clock?"

"That would be lovely," you agreed. "Get my address from John."

***

It was around the tenth time you saw Sherlock that you realized you were beginning to fall in love with him. That was certainly unexpected, but it didn't surprise you. You'd always been a sucker for an intelligent man and Sherlock Holmes was amongst the most brilliant. The two of you could spend hours in conversation. Or, just as easily, he could call with one question, hanging up as soon as you'd answered it.

That day you'd met him at a small café where you often worked on your books. You had befriended the owners and they would often let you set up at a table in the back corner. They kept you fed and in coffee so you could just focus on your work. Sherlock had come to meet you for lunch.

As he sat across from you, discussing the latest case he'd solved, that's when you knew. This was becoming serious for you. You didn't dare ask if he felt the same. You knew enough about Sherlock to know that conversation would likely run him off. Besides, you could be patient.

"What is it?" he asked with a small smile and you realized you'd been staring.

You shook your head and smiled back. "Nothing."

***

The twenty-third time you met was for dinner at a small, quiet restaurant. You were nearing the end of your meal when Sherlock received a call from Lestrade. Of course, you told him to go, as if there was any other option.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said as he stood and shrugged on his coat.

As he passed your chair he paused to give you a soft kiss on your lips which made you smile.

"I'll call you later. I love you." He was gone before you even had time to process the unexpected words.

It was only when your phone rang that you were pulled from your stunned contemplation.

"Hello?" you answered without looking at the screen.

"I meant it, you know," Sherlock's voice drifted through the line. "I do love you."

"I love you, too, Sherlock," you responded, finally saying the words that have been on the tip of your tongue for weeks.

***

The fifty-seventh time you met Sherlock Holmes was on the same bench where your first encounter took place. Once again, you sat with your café americano and your book. He joined you with a twirl of that coat he loved so much. This time when you looked at him you gasped. The book dropped from your lap forgotten as a hand flew up to your mouth. The ring in his hand robbed you of all intelligent thought.

"You know that I am not good with romantic words and gestures, Y/N, but would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

You nodded and he smiled as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

If you were too elated to notice the look John gave Sherlock when you told him the news later that day, well...who could blame you?

***

It was two weeks later and you were waiting for Sherlock to join you for lunch when your phone rang. A glance at the screen had your brow lifting in surprise. "Andrew?" you answered. You hadn't talked to your brother in months.

"Y/N, I need to talk to you."

You couldn't remember the last time you had heard him sound so serious. "Okay."

And with your permission, your brother started to bring your world down around you.

Sherlock took the seat across from you when he arrived. His smile faded as he took in your appearance. It was obvious you'd been crying. Your laptop sat unused in the bag to your side and your hands were folded in your lap. "Y/N? Are you all right?"

"Tell me he's lying," you said, not looking up at him. Your voice was low and he might not have heard it if he hadn't been so focused on you.

"What?"

"Tell me you didn't know, Sherlock."

He reached across the table for you only to have you jerk away from him. "Y/N, explain to me what is going on, please?"

"I talked to my brother." You didn't bother to mention that Andrew had informed you that Sherlock had been trying to locate him for months before the two of you ever met.

His entire being stiffened and he leaned back in his seat. "You've never mentioned a brother," Sherlock said.

You looked up then, met his gaze. "But you knew, didn't you? You knew before you ever talked to me. Was it all a ruse, Sherlock? Did you care for me at all?" You had to ask though you already knew the truth. He had hoped you would lead him to Andrew. That was all.

"Y/N, you must understand—"

You placed your hand on the table and pushed it toward him. You pulled away leaving your ring behind. "I do understand, Sherlock. I really do." You stood and gathered your things. "This...you aren't the person I loved, but if you see him, tell him I'm done."