Secondhand Love by Pete Townshend
“For the love of God, Sherlock. Have some decency,” she stated tersely, grabbing at the man’s sleeve and clenching her little fist tight around the fabric. “At least look at me when you pass me on the street!”
When the man turned to face her, any other comment she had died on her tongue as her jaw clamped shut. Even though their features were strikingly similar, one second glance at the man made it blatantly obvious that he was not Sherlock Holmes. An impressive coincidence, perhaps, but certainly not the same person and not warranting of her frustration.
“Oh my God, I’m. I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, retracting her hand as if it were scalded by his wool coat, tucking it back to her chest where she wrung both of her hands guiltily. “I. I mistook you for someone else. I mean. Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have said those things. Just, please-”
“It’s quite alright,” the man interrupted her, his voice a low rumble that caught her off guard with how calm it was. “This actually isn’t the first time this has happened to me today.”
“Oh?” she asked, lowering her hands a bit and settling them closer to her pockets. “What happened?”
“A graying DI punched me in the face.” The man’s smile was surprisingly infectious, and she found herself giggling in spite of her initial embarrassment. “As you can imagine, he was much more apologetic.”
My name is Molly Hooper, I'm single 