Epopeias of deduction

"You mean "the" Sherlock?"

My hands trembled in all shades of blue. The navy one, the pale of the sky when the sun rises in the winter, the pitch dark blue like of the sea at night, tirquoise and lake blue, sapphire, baby blue, celestial, azur...

I WAS PAINTING

With my hands. I liked it. The appealing cold of the paint on my skin and later the beautiful effect of handprints on the beige canvas. It was one of those comfy activities, one of the few that made me forget about everything that caused me pain. In fact the dunking of my fingers into the liquid paint was truly something that made me happy. Unless...

I STOOD UP

The painting has been finished, resembeling a sky above the sea, just a little bit, abstract, decorated by silver and golden lines made by a thin brush. I liked it. My paintings were one of the few things I liked about myself. Very few things.

I was about to walk down the stairs and wash my hands from the paint when I spotted my reflection in the mirror that hung on my wall.
My eyes burst to tears. When I make art I always forget about what reality looks like. It is ugly and painful, it breaks my heart. I could resist. I could look away. I could not mind. But I stayed. Stayed starring at the mirror watching every feature of my face, every part of my body with such hate as one would never have said that I am able to feel.

I started pulling my cheeks with the hands covered in paint, conturing cheekbones. Soon my face was full of the blue blots in all shades
I ran with my fingers down my neck, wishing so deeply for it to be longer. I painted my collarbones, pushing hard on them, and the more I "painted" the more I cried, falling on my knees, finally head burried in the blue hands wrapped around my knees.

When moments like this came, I never thought about keeping it secret, or staying quiet. The priority was to change the pain of soul for the pain of the body or at least pain of the throat as I cried and coughed. Now it was no different. I was so lost in all the blue that I overheard Greg's steps running to my bedroom.

When he saw me sitting on the floor, all blue, both inside and outside, with wet eyes and red neck, he kneeled down next to me and pulled me into such a strong embrace that he made it hard for me to breathe. I sobbed into his shoulder, wiped my nose into his shirt, not realising that it is white and freshly washed and I am staining it with my dirty nose.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I'll go and fetch a clean one for you." I spoke with a shaking and quiet voice.
"The shirt's no problem Nathalie, there are plenty of others like this one in the world. But you are the only. I won't be able to fetch a new sister when you give up."
" I don't want to give up." I moaned.
" I know you don't. But I am scared for you. I am terribly scared. I was never as scared as now for all my life and I've seen more murders than dogs actually."
"I'm sorry, Greg."

"No don't be. It's not your falt. I dont want you to feel like if it was. But I just... can't leave you alone in the house after you... Well painted all yourself and cried so much."
"But Greg you have to go to work, you've been ill last week you cannot take another day off."
"No I can't. But you can take a day off the house and come with me."

I starred at him, totally surprised but pleasently I guess. I found Greg's job very interesting and also judging by the way he described his coworkers I guess it would be fine to meet them. Especially the super smart detective Greg mentioned the last time we talked. It would be cool to meet someone who can tell everything about me from just one look... For at least once. Nobody knew what battle was happening in my head every morning I woke up.

"I'm not asking if you want to Nath, go wash yourself, we're leaving at 6:30." he said with an ordering but kind smile.
"Any pros for me there in coming?" I asked teasingly through the tears.
"Well... the case we got today's pretty hard to put together, so Sherlock's coming to help us with it."
"You mean "the" Sherlock?"
Greg nodded with a smirk, I hugged him once again and ran to the bathroom in a bit of an excitement, not seeing Greg sighing, smiling and then starring at me for a while with a sad gaze:
"Oh how much I'd love to help her..."