"Who is this?" I ask.
"Tomorrow, in the mail, you will get a package. That package will hold the puzzle." He said, ignoring my question.
"Who. Are. You." I said, my voice lowering an octave. He just laughed. "How did you get my number?" I pressed on.
"You will find out when the time comes. Don't worry about. And tell Sherlock that I can't wait to see him again." With that, he hung up.
"He knows you." I say looking at Sherlock. He gave me a confused face.
"He told me 'tell Sherlock that I can't wait to see him again'. He knows you."
"Who?" John asks.
"Someone I don't want to see again. Especially after that." I said.
"You didn't tell us everything about your past. You held some stuff back." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well I wasn't gonna tell you everything, now was I?" I said.
"Going." Sherlock said.
"What?"
"Going. Not gonna." I shrugged.
"So?" I asked.
"It's not-"
"It's know. It doesn't matter if you know what I mean, know does it?" I cut him off. He just sighs and gets up. "Aww. Leaving so soon?" I sarcastically say. He turns around I get up to to go to my room. He grabs my shoulder and motions for John to leave the room. He obeys and walks out of my apartment and into his. I look at Sherlock with a quizzical look and he drags me to the couch. He stands in front of me as I stare at him, confusion write all over my face.
"What?" He asks.
"Do you need something?"
"Oh! Yes. What did you leave out about your past? Your folder didn't even have anything extra that you didn't say." He says, sitting next to me.
"What makes you think that I'm gonna tell you?" I ask, emphasizing 'gonna' just to annoy him.
"This." He says. He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips, almost as if he is shy. I sit there, shocked, when he pulls away. Memories come flooding back. All of them are about him and I. Before... the incident. He waves his hand in my face and I snap out of memory lane. He studies my face, looking for a reaction. And emotion. Anything. I don't give him anything. Nothing. My face is blank.
"What was that for? You know I'm not going to tell you. No matter how close we are." I said. I stood up and went to my room. Once in my room,I closed and locked the door. I leaned against the door and slid down it, trying not to cry. Why do I have butterflies in my stomach? Why is it that when Sherlock kissed me, it felt so... right? Am I gaining feelings for him? No. I can't be. I don't have feelings. At least not certain feelings. I never have. So what is wrong with me?
