She hadn't done that in a while. Ever since he left she hadn't found the confidence to venture out on a date with someone for the first time.
She had grown used to the dates he would spontaneously drag her on - even if it consisted from the odd murder or kidnapping. It added a piece of excitement to the evening, one that she loved and adored. She found herself praying for the excitement.
But that excitement stopped the moment his body hit the ground.
Her own heart stopped beating at that exact moment. Her entire body felt numb and she couldn't breathe. For months, she refused to believe it was true.
Lately, after almost a year of convincing from John and Mary, she realised and admitted to her that he was gone; and he was never coming back. Now, thanks to Mary, she was on a date with someone she had decided to set her up with.
She hasn't been this nervous for years.
The last time she was this nervous was when she was left alone with Sherlock for the first time. He had spotted that she was nervous and explained that he wasn't going to kill her or bite her head of. His joking surprisingly calmed her down, and their relationship took flight from there.
She no longer had his jokes to brush off the nerves, nor did she have his smile that turned her legs to jelly.
She sighed, fixing a strand of her hair.
She had decided to simply curl it and leave it lying to the side. Her dress was simple with a small amount of lace, knee length and her heels matched perfectly. Her make up was simple, but she wore a small amount of red lipstick on her plumped lips.
(E/c) eyes skimmed across the words on the menu. Her date still hadn't decided to show their face.
Maybe she had been stood up? It wouldn't be surprising.
Whenever someone discovers that she was once dating Sherlock Holmes they see her as a patient that had miraculously escaped a mental institution. People tend to stay away or remove themselves from her life.
She blocked out the voices of couples surrounding her. The words on the menu began to grow bland. She ignored the sound of footsteps approaching, the thudding of the door opening and closing.
From the corner her eye she stopped someone walking towards her table and sliding into the seat across from her.
"Sorry, I'm waiting on someo-" She looked up to the man that had claimed the seat as his own.
There it was. The crooked smile that she knew and loved. The shimmering blue-grey eyes that were topped with curly brown hair. He was dressed sharply in a suit, with a tie for once.
"You're, you're not.." Her words were lodged into her throat.
"Not dead." He spoke slowly, his smile remaining on his lips.
"That's not possible." She whispered.
She pushed herself out of her seat, standing at the edge of the table and stared down at him.
"You're not here. You're in my head, you've always been in my head. You're just another hallucination of mine, you're dead and you're still dead. I watched you fall, I watched you hit the ground like a bag of sand."
Her eyes were stinging and her voice was weak. Yet, she couldn't find the courage to walk away.
He stood up and took a step towards her. He moved his arms towards her, attempting to grab her and never left go.
Her hand dashed across his cheek, leaving a faint red mark. Silence was now heard throughout the restaurant.
Eyes flew from their meals and conversations to the couple standing, their feet remaining clued to the ground.
"Two years, you've been gone for two years and I didn't hear a single word from you."
Tears boiled in her eyes and streamed gently down her cheeks.
She covered her hand with her mouth, muffling the small whimper that escaped her throat. She turned her back on him and removed herself from the restaurant, apologizing to the waiter and waitress that she passed.
Her jacket was returned to her and she slid into it with the assistance of one of the waiters. She ran outside, sucking in the cold air that burned her lungs.
Her fingers pushed away the tears, stealing away her mascara from her eyes.
Numb, everything felt numb.
He wasn't here. It was all in her head. She missed him so much that her mind was playing tricks on her.
There it was, his voice that sent shivers down her spine. And no matter how angry and heartbroken she felt in this moment, it still had the same effect on her.
His hand rested against her back. She flinched away, pulling her body away from his gentle touch.
"Don't touch me, Sherlock."
She couldn't look him in the eyes, no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn't find herself to look at him the same way she used to.
"I thought you were dead. For two years I had convinced myself that you were dead. People look at me like I'm the deranged girl that fell in love with a fake genius. Maybe I am, maybe I always will be, because that's exactly what I am." She spoke quietly, shuffling away from the entrance to allow others inside.
Rain gently began to fall, splashing into the small puddles on the ground and created new ones wherever it fell.
"I never meant to hurt you, (Y/N). I swear I would have attempted to contact you but I couldn't risk your safety."
"You left for two years. For two years I could barely breathe, I could barely sleep because you weren't with me. You left me, you left John, Mrs Hudson, Greg-"
"Greg?" He interrupted, looking at her with a soft furrowed brow.
"Lestrade..that's his first name." She explained.
She could stop the smile from seeping through. The longer she stared up at him the more she found herself falling for him all over again.
She couldn't stop her heart from skipping a beat when his crooked smile latched onto his lips.
Maybe that's what she is, and she was proud to be known for what she was.
The psychotic girl that had fallen in love with a sociopathic consulting detective.