The Consulting Detective's Apprentice (Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 10: Crazy = Genius

'Open your eyes, and tell me what kind of emotions you feel with seeing this painting.' Sherlock said, and waited patiently, leaning on the side of the desk, looking at John's face intently.

John opened his eyes, and apparently spotted the painting, because his mouth fell open wide, his eyes widened and he made some... strange strangled noises.

'Sherlock, where did you buy this?' He asked Sherlock, and looked at him completely shocked. Sherlock groaned and shook his head.

'No, John, FOCUS. Tell me what do you feel?' He said frustrated while ruffling his curls with both his hands and emphasizing the last word.

'Oh okay. The painting is warm, friendly, homely and happy I think, judged by the colours. It's very admiring, the person thought your best pose was when you did something where you didn't talk, very fitting-sorry I just meant that she chose something you loved, where you were concentrated, so the person knows you I think. It's full of positive emotions, I would say love, but that's exaggerated for just a portrait- Sherlock are you going to tell me who made this?' John asked with a frown on his face. Sherlock stayed inclined to the desk for a few seconds, staring at the floor and processing what could be deduced from this painting.

'(Y/N)' He just told John, whose eyes widened again.

'(Y/N) made this?' He asked and Sherlock didn't react to that, he was trying to understand emotions, but it was so hard.

'I needed you to tell me what it meant. Sometimes being a sociopath isn't very useful.' He said frustrated, pacing around the apartment.

So it is positive, that much I could've told that myself. But I hadn't thought about the way she portrayed me, why is that important? And colours represent emotions? What is this, a whole new branch of science? God this is so useless.

Think of it like a game, like a puzzle. What do the clues tell you?

Go to your mindpalace.

Sherlock went to his mindpalace, and opened the dusty box with your name on it, and looked through it. He opened the memory where he had caught you drawing him.

Her gaze pierced through me, no one had looked at me with that much interest since John. She had a spark in her eyes, a small curled up mouth corner, but her stare was serious. Her shoulders, her perfect and elegant shoulders slightly turned inwards, her delicate fingers wrapped around a pencil, scribbling in her little book again, just like when I had tried to take it away from her. I felt naked, honestly, there was no one in the world who knows me so well, or thinks she knows me. Now she wants to draw me, and she seemed so determined-

'WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES.' John's shouting voice snapped him out of his trance, he looked up with a slightly panicked look, he didn't want to stop seeing her with that much affection in her eyes. Still wrapped up in the way he had felt when he had received such adoration from her he said the first thing that came to his mind.

'I need her to go back to how she thought of me before I send her away, John. I need her.' He said, for the first time showing his incapability of handling life on his own. John's features softened.

'She still cares for you, Sherlock, you know that.' He said calmingly, putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and squeezing a bit. Sherlock shook it off and started shaking his head.

'No, John, It's just not like when- She just used to- ARGH I JUST CAN'T EXPLAIN IT PROPERLY.' He shouted, incredibly frustrated, before John could say something Sherlock looked around quickly and spotted the painting again. He walked over to it and pointed at it aggressively.