Paint my world (Sherlock X OC)

The real artist

And That day the interview went fantastic, we all had fun time with eachother at home as well. Rosie and I also had our one hour of drawing which has become a daily routine for us before bedtime. I'm not taking any money from them for it as well, they're paying my part of the rent and not taking a penny from me, so it's a favour from my side too.
"good night Melody" said Rosie before going to bed, she has started to call me Melody, better than Ms Ball actually, now that it feels like I'm one of them.
"not sleepy yet?" asked Sherlock as he took out a bottle of wine from the fridge.
"a bit actually" I said stretching my arms, "are you gonna drink now?"
"a bit yes" he said pouring himself a glass, "you don't drink alcohol soo..."
I never joined them for whiskey or even wine, however today I wanted to try it, "may I? pretty please?"
Sherlock raised his brows at my childish request, he did pour me a little amount of wine while shaking his head with a sweet smile on his lips, "cheers Melody".
We did, and sipped our wines. "it's good actually " said I. The notebook of Rosie was still infront of me and the white page was too irresistible.
"you know what?" I said turning to Sherlock, "I love those arts people makes with wine."
"with wine?" he seemed quite surprised.
"yes" I replied, "wait I'll show you then". Leaving him in utter confusion, I went to fetch my own drawing copy and water colors.
"I'll have to sketch something first" I said while going through my Pinterest for some inspiration, "ahaa!" I stopped scrolling at a picture, "look it's a picture of Emma Watson let me draw it."
Sherlock watched me sketching a rough portrait of Emma Watson carefully as he sipped his wine.
"wow" he exclaimed as the sketch was almost done, "it's amazing".
"thanks" I couldn't help but giggle at him praising me, "now the wine" I took my wine to spill some on the paper, however Sherlock held my wrist, stopping me from doing that.
"umm Melody?" he said, "it's a beautiful sketch, are you sure about it?" he was pretty concerned, perhaps even thought if I was sane enough or not.
"calm down, just wait and watch" he let go off of my wrist and I spilled the wine on some part of the sketch and spreaded it with my fingers a little.
"this is the messy part of being an artist, detective" I said while letting it dry. He stared at the sketch, with wide and curious eyes like a child. I poured a cup of water, brought out my dirty brushes that I never wash, brought my very big pallet and my half dried colors.
"a real painter" Sherlock muttered under his breath.
"are you fascinated already?" I enquired, "watch the whole of process of frustration Mr Sherlock Holmes, and the result will be divine I promise."
Saying so I started to color the part of the skin where the wine was, leaving the white part as it is. Yes the coloring process is always stressful but in the end it's worth it. Little by little the painting started to form and Sherlock sat there watching the whole thing like a curious kid, that he is. After the coloring part I took my very famous black sketch pen to enhance the white parts as well.
"There" I said after putting my initials under it M.B.
"wow" Sherlock took the painting in his hand and uff how awestruck he was.
"Melody" he said looking at me, "you're even better than what we thought".
I giggled again, I get overwhelmed by little praise and here, he was pouring all the praises on me.
"glad you love my painting that much" I said while putting my colors back in the box, unorganised.
"wish you could paint my world too" I stopped as I heard him whisper this.
"what?" I enquired.
"nothing, I'm sorry I..." he trailed off but then with a smile he continued, "the way you filled the white paper with vibrant colors, bringing a sketch to life, I wish you could paint my world with these vibrant colours of yours too Melody".
He explained what he meant, yet I was unsure how he wanted me to do it.
"how can I do that?"
He shook his head at this question before replying, "I know not, sleepy yet?"
Nodding I went inside with him, leaving my paints right there on the kitchen table. Laying down I only stared at the ceiling trying to figure out what he meant... what he meant?