After a too-long drive, we finally pulled in front of the small bed and breakfast hotel. It was small and cozy, nestled between trees. You would never guess that it might house a murderer.

The murder itself had taken place last night, one of three murders where the victims had spent the night at this hotel. And the small and comfy looking building was full of suspects. The owners of the hotel, though, refused to let any police creep about with their eye on the residents, for fear of losing buisiness. That's why Lestrade sent me and Sherlock to the case, to scope out the possible murderers without causing a scene.

I got out of the back of the cab and quickened my pace to reach Sherlock. I stood next to him as he stared the building down.

"Whats the plan?" I asked earnestly.

"We need one room," Sherlock said in his usual deep voice.

"What?"

"All of the victims were single, staying in lone rooms," He glanced at me, "If we stay in separate rooms, we could be killed."

"Okay," I gulped, "So we have to pretend we're a couple?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Got it."

We walked forward and into the lobby. It was small, with a tiny fire and a few tables and a couch. The man behind the desk was huge and burly, looking extremely irritated. He looked at us and immediately seemed like he knew exactly what was going on. I felt immediately nervous.

I felt Sherlocks hand in mine. The action was so strange and foreign that I almost jumped. It was warm, and I felt my heart start beating faster.

We approached the desk and Sherlock gave the mostly sickly sweet smile I had ever seen, I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes as he spoke in his best lying voice that no one would notice if they didn't know him.

"Hello! We'd like one room please," he leaned against me, "Queen sized bed."

The man looked extremely unconvinced and doubtful. He narrowed his eyes at me and I forced a smile. It didn't look like it was going to be enough.

"Special occasion?" The man said, faking sweetness back at us.

"Anniversary," Sherlocks turned to look at me then, his blue eyes nearly melting me at the knees, "One year."

And it actually had been one year since we had met. I thought he had forgotten.

The man nodded and handed Sherlock the keys, "Return these and pay when you check out."

Sherlock smiled and took the keys quickly, dragging me by hand across the room towards the stairs. The man watched us critically.

"Sherlock," I hissed, "I don't think he believes us."

"I know," His eyes were flickering around as we walked, "I need you to kiss me."

"What?" my heart stopped, "No…"

"Fine," He stopped us and turned towards me. Before I could say anything his hands were around my face and I couldn't speak. His eyes met mine and I saw a flash of something new. Fear? Before I could even think about it, he kissed me.

I had sometimes thought about how kissing him would feel, but this defied it all. Never in my life had the chemicals in my head spun around like that. His lips were soft and it was gentle, the kiss of someone who was worried about it. But I kissed back.

He pulled away and my eyes fluttered back open. His eyes were wide, on me like nothing else mattered. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. The sound must have made him realize where we were, because he broke eye contact to look back at the man at the desk, who wasn't paying attention now.

"I think it worked," Sherlock turned without looking at me and walked up the stairs. I rolled my eyes and followed.

—

I was sitting on the bed with my laptop, Sherlock laying down and turned away from me. He hadn't looked at me all night. It was then that I realized something was wrong. I re-looked at the open emails from Lestrade with details of the murders and realized that my partner had lied.

"Sherlock," I frowned.

"Yes?" He grumbled.

"You said the victims were all in single rooms, but they weren't. They were all part of a couple."

"Oh," he didn't seem to care or notice, "Yes, I lied."

"Why?"

"Because this case can be wrapped up easily, just wait for the murderer to kidnap one of us. Probably you. I wouldn't kidnap me, if I were a murderer. Too tall. All the victims were shorter."

I gaped at him. He knew I might get kidnapped soon, and he didn't care. He put me in harms way. Again. I slammed my laptop shut and stood up, pulling on my jacket.

"Where are you going?" He sat up.

"Out, for a walk. Since you're so eager for me to get killed."

"Come back to bed sweety," he smiled, clearly amused.

"Shut up," I slammed the door behind me.

—

It was cold outside, and I let it bite at my skin. It kind of hurt but I welcomed it. I leaned against the wall outside and put my hand in my pocket, feeling something. I pulled it out; a box of cigarettes.

I had accidentally put on Sherlocks coat.

"Fuck," I groaned and pulled a cigarette out of the box, not really caring anymore. I didn't normally do this but now I really needed to forget. I lit it and returned the lighter and box to my pocket.

I inhaled the smoke deeply and let it out into the cold air. It looked nice.

I just couldn't bring myself to understand. Everyone thought we were a couple, even Irene. Sherlock said I was his only friend, which I believed. So why was I feeling this? Anger when he was sad, worry when he was scared. I'd take a bullet for him. More feelings then I had had for any girlfriend of the past year. Hell, I couldn't keep a girlfriend because of him.

And every time he touched me- electricity. And that kiss….

The worst part was he was cold, calculating, and I was just his roommate and partner and maybe his friend. I couldn't tell if he ever cared. But in that moment before the kiss, after it, it felt like he cared….

Fuck. If I was going to get kidnapped, right now would be a fantastic time.

"Hello,"

I jumped into the air and looked next to me. A girl, cute and small and lovely looking. She smiled at me and it was very warming.

"Hi." I replied.

"You look a little off," she frowned, "Couple troubles?"

"Uh.. yeah. I guess you could- wait, how did you know that?"

"I saw you and your, um, boyfriend come in this morning." She leaned up against the wall with me.

"Ah," funny, I hadn't seen her.

"Whats the problem?"

"He," I sighed, "He's always caught up in work. I don't really think it matters much what I do."

"I see."

"And just," I felt myself spilling my guts to this girl, "Fuck. Its like I'm the only one who feels anything here."

"I completely understand," she sighed, "I once had a boyfriend like that. I left but, I wish I had stayed. If you leave I know you'll regret it. Do you love him?"

I stared at her, "I don't know."

"Figure it out. But keep trying," she smiled at me.

I gulped, "Thank you."

"Anytime." She turned and left. Odd, so very odd. But of course, the random girl was right. Its not like I could throw a fit and leave him, I was far too involved now. Even if by myself.

I finished my cigarette and crushed it into the pavement. I turned and returned inside, heading for the couch by the fire. I sat down and rubbed my eyes. No one was around, maybe I could sleep here. I groaned and leaned against my hand, watched the fire fade and drifted to sleep.

—

"John."

My eyes fluttered open. Sherlock was knelt down in front of me. The fire was gone, the only light was from the moon outside. His eyes seemed to glow, a pretty blue I wanted all to myself.

"Come on, come upstairs."

I nodded sleepily and stood up. He wrapped an arm around me and walked me upstairs. I didn't complain, just leaned into his warmth and didn't care.

In our room, he let go of me and tucked me under the sheets of the bed.

"Don't do that again, I seriously thought you got kidnapped."

I groaned and buried my face in the pillow, "Isn't that what you want?"

"No, John. But I'd save you, I'd save you every time."

Those were the last words I heard before I drifted to sleep.