Author's Note:

I've been waiting to reach this prompt for what feels like forever! So I'm not going to stay on this author's note for too long! Hope you like it. ROLL THE CHAPTER!


I forgot this in the last chapter... Oops! Anyway you know how it goes. I own nothing BLAH BLAH BLAH!


Martin Hooper was in no way an above average teen. He was nice enough, wasn't the best looking, or the worst looking, wasn't the dumbest kid, or the smartest. Yet, Martin Hooper was in some ways a little odd, and those were the reasons he didn't have many friends. He hid his near obsession with learning about death and bodies as well as he could, which was very poorly and often why no one wanted to be near him. That paired with his unusual slightly morbid sense of humor was why everyone avoided him. Martin himself was kindhearted and quirky personality wise, not that anyone ever bothered to find out. To everyone in his grade Martin Hooper was just that weird guy who probably wasn't quite right in the head, to be avoided at all costs or risk being socially shunned. And so, Martin was alone. Sure he had his mom and his older brother, but nothing had really been the same since his dad died when he was twelve, and family wasn't the same as friends.

He didn't mind the solitude, not really. At least that's what he told himself, that he was fine by himself, that he could pay more attention to his grades without the distraction and drama or friends. That's all friends were anyway, drama. He'd seen it, while shuffling down the halls and sitting in the back of the class. Friends caused fights, and rumors, and someone always got hurt. No, Martin Hooper definitely absolutely didn't mind being alone, no matter what that tiny voice in the back of his head kept telling him.

Sherrian Holmes was in no way an average teen. She wasn't nice to, well, anyone really. Most people would consider her stunning even though she couldn't care less about her appearance. All high cheekbones and curves and dark curls she was a sight to behold. Even more impressing than her looks was her intellect. Sure, Sherrian Holmes didn't know that the earth went around the sun or that Washington was the first president of the United States, but she could identify 243 different types of tobacco ash and an airline pilot by his left thumb. Sherrian was often interpreted as rude and arrogant, but she thought of it differently. Why should she be modest? She knew she was brilliant, why bother acting like she was one of the idiots that surrounded her? And manners were a horribly dull waste of time anyway. Because of her bristly personality she didn't have friends, not that she wanted or needed them. She had daddy, and she supposed she had her sister Maycroft, even if they hadn't been getting along since Maycroft had decided she needed to become the figure their mother never had been. She had liked Maycroft better when she played pirates with her when she was five, but now she was different. All suits and disapproving looks and "caring is not an advantage."

She liked being alone, when she was alone she could think and retreat into her mind palace. She had no doubt that being alone was the best for her. Sure, she'd had friends when she was younger but considering that she couldn't care less for them she'd labeled herself a sociopath and moved on in her life alone. She liked the isolation, and all of the doubts she'd had before had been shoved behind a door in the very back of her mind palace. There they stayed, ignored and silent. Except for the few times when she let her thoughts drift too far, the stabbing loneliness was forgotten and never acknowledged.

Adult Martin Hooper was really no less alone than he was as a teen. Really the only difference now was that instead of the weird guy who probably wasn't right in the head he was now the weird guy that worked in the morgue who probably wasn't right in the head. He didn't mind, not really. No he definitely didn't mind, not at all, for sure. He loved his job, he knew that he was helping people and dead people were much less judging than alive ones. It was just that the morgue could be rather lonely... And quiet. Dead people didn't make noise after all and being the only person there during his shifts meant that it was almost silent while he was working. But he didn't mind. Definitely didn't mind. Nope. Not at all.

Adult Sherrian Holmes was even more impossibly brilliant than she'd been as a teen. She had become the world's first and only consulting detective and now she helped Gina Lestrade and her goons whenever they were out of their depth. Also know as always. She lived for her job. It was her life, and even more importantly it kept the boredom away. She couldn't let the boredom creep up on her, because every time it did the thoughts would return. She'd tried deleting them, and ignoring them, and locking them behind a door as deep in her mind palace as possible. But they came back no matter how hard she tried. Whispering truths that she didn't want to hear, carrying loneliness and depression that she didn't want or need. So she worked, and worked, and worked. After all, keeping busy was the only way to keep the thoughts far away from her where they belonged.

Martin Hooper had never met anyone like Sherrian Holmes in his 29 years of existence. The woman had burst into his morgue one day, dark Belstaff coat swirling behind her, demanding to see the body that'd been brought in the day before. Martin had frozen, mouth gaping open as he stared at the imposing woman before stuttering that he couldn't just let anyone see the bodies. She'd rolled her eyes and replied in a tone that made him feel stupid even though he really had no reason to. She introduced herself as Sherrian Holmes, and she wasn't just anyone, she was the world's only consulting detective. Martin had only managed to nod and walk over, pulling out the body. He watched Sherrian as her eyes flicked over the dead woman for a few seconds, nodded, turned, and left without another word. Leaving Martin Hooper to stand with his mouth slightly open, trying to stop the butterflies in his stomach.

Sherrian Holmes had never met anyone like that man in the morgue, she never did ask for his name but his ID identified him as Dr. Martin Hooper. She had gone to the St. Bart's morgue with the intention of inspecting the body of a Sutton, the latest victim in an intriguing serial killer case, and ending up finding something even more fascinating. Nothing was interesting about Martin Hooper at first glance, he wasn't particularly attractive or clever looking, he owned a cat judging by the fur on his trousers, and hadn't been getting enough sleep lately. But for some reason Sherrian couldn't identify, her thoughts kept drifting back to him even now, several hours after leaving Barts. For some reason her mind was drawn to him... Sherrian took a few moments to create a room in her mind palace, sorting what she knew about Martin Hooper into neat boxes inside before returning to reality. This would require further investigation.

He'd known Sherrian for four years now, and Jane Watson for two but she'd never seen Sherrian like this before. She looked... heartbroken. But only when Jane would look away, when she was looking Sherrian would be her normal almost expressionless self. But then Jane would look away and Sherrian would stare at her with a pain that made Martin's stomach clench as if he could feel it himself. So he waited, until Jane left for some reason or another and then he walked over to where Sherrian was hunched over a microscope.

"You're a bit like my dad." Sherrian looked up at Martin with mild surprise in her eyes. "When he was... dying. He was always cheerful, he was lovely. Except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once. He looked... sad."

"Martin." She interrupted him in a tone that obviously was a warning to stop.

"You look sad. ...Are you okay? And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you." There was a heavy pause.

"You can see me."

"I don't count." Sherrian looked up, the shock she was feeling not making it's way onto her face. Why did he think that? He was Martin Hooper, of course he counted. He made her stomach flutter and made her work even harder to solve cases, because she knew it would impress him. And the most important of all, he saw her. Saw things that even Jane didn't sometimes, things that Maycroft never caught on her cameras, and Mr. Hudson never picked up on despite how fatherly he was to her and Jane. Sherrian was snapped out of her thoughts by Martin's voice.

"All I'm trying to say is if there's anything I can do, anything you need. Anything at all, you can have me. Um no. I just mean-" Sherrian cut his bumbling off as he tried to correct his mistake.

"But what could I need from you?" Martin shook his head, looking down at the table and answered quietly.

"Nothing... I don't know. Um just-"

"Well actually maybe I-"

"I know you don't." And with that Martin Hooper left the morgue, leaving Sherrian alone with a dark frown on her face. By the time Martin returned she was gone.

"You were wrong." Martin jumped. He'd been opening the door of the now dark morgue, going home for the night when he heard the familiar voice from behind him.

"You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. You're right, I'm not okay. I think I'm going die." As Sherrian spoke she walked up to him, until she was only a few inches away. She grabbed his hand and brought it up to her cheek, keeping her hand over it. When Martin spoke it was quiet and gentle.

"What do you need?"


Author's Note:

Yeah I know it's not funny or fluffy like everything else... But I did say that there would be angst! We'll be back to the fluff next chapter everyone so don't worry! I hope you liked it anyway and please review if you did! BYEEE!