No, You can never love Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You can never love his eloquent deductive, nor his random fiddle no matter how stunning the harmony is. For his beauty is merely meant to be relished For your only windows are those scented papers Filled with aimless mysterious footprints or sometimes, right, few drops of blood Can only peek through the old pages Make sure the suspect doesn't notice you because darling, he is about to pull the trigger. How wondrous this feeling can be. Before you, I was just a beginner Sir, My eyes were wide opened when I stood on my tiptoe My mind freezes upon the tingling suspense I did not anticipate So when you told me that you love me, I knew I will have to make a room for myself For your 'Mind Palace' is an exquisite place to be looked at but certainly not to be lived in I had to make sure that my trembling body are worthwhile enough to stay or else, to be erased. And when you pulled me deeper in your arm