If... Then...? || Sherlock BBC

3

Hey! Just quick note from the author, I imagine Evelyn as Rachel McAdams from movie "Red Eye". Might be helpful with picturing her as reading through.

That's it! Enjoy!

Evelyn returned to her flat which was covered in dust and the vibrant smell of coffee. Due to her recent fatigue she didn't have any strength to clean her home which resulted in an awful mess. Newspapers were laying everywhere, books scattered on the floor, dishes, cups, and mugs covering every table. She was ashamed of how little she was able to do because of her lifestyle and something that she wished she fixed long time ago.

Whatever she did, she still vividly remembered that night of when she almost saw the world for the last time. On her own wish. That night was covered with silent tears. Her mind was swimming in the memories of her previous attempts hoping that this one would be the last one. Her last breath. Blood was running down her forearm. Bright red puddle was slowly covering the cold tiles of the bathroom in her dormitory. She was slowly dozing off when suddenly her friend from one of her classes barged into the room. All the sounds were muffled and vision blurred, but despite all of that she was able recognise the man. Greg Lestrade putting pressure on her open wound and panicking. That was the last thing Evelyn remember before waking up in the hospital with her forearm covered in stitches.

She was grateful for his action ages ago but it caused a lot of pain to her. Next years in therapists' offices spending time talking about her messed up life were not the most pleasant moments. She barely avoided the hospital.

Evelyn looked in the mirror which hung on the wall. She could see how her face was aging due to stress and how tired she looked. It was not noticeable to anyone else but her... but she was the greatest psychologist in the world.

She made herself a cup of tea and sat by her computer looking at data she gathered a month ago, before quitting her job. The psychologist was not supposed to be in possession of this information, however no eyes has seen this data except hers. Her dirty blonde hair was gently falling on her cheeks. The data looked rather promising.

She started typing her report on it when her phone suddenly buzzed. She picked it up and opened a text message she didn't want to see.

Love your work. Such a shame you don't want to collaborate :(
JM

Her body froze. He now had her phone number. Evelyn decided to not do anything about it. This man was not threatening her yet, but he was obsessive. For some reason Laurier had a problem with reading him as he was too unpredictable. He was simply psychotic. The man never introduced himself but now she had his initials. Or did she? She couldn't recognise bluff through texts.

Evelyn got up to grab her coat from the hanger. She needed some fresh air after a busy morning in a dusty factory and a night full of nightmares. She rushed out through her front door and locked it. She lived in the centre of London near a park to which she headed. Her mind was wrapped around planning on what she should do next.

***

Sherlock barged into Baker Street with annoyance painted on his face. Lestrade got someone else involved which he didn't like. Did he not trust him? No, that's nonsense. He landed flat in his chair fidgeting with his fingers.
— Everything okay? — asked John hanging is jacket.
— Why was she there? — Sherlock said it more to himself rather than to John.
— No idea but Lestrade had to have a good reason for inviting her. — the doctor move to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water.

The water started boiling just like Sherlock's head was boiling at the moment. John simply sat in his chair and opened a newspaper. Sherlock sat silent and still as always with his palms under his chin. He was slowly diving into his Mind Palace when he let John interrupt him.
— You know that's not a big deal, right?
— Of course it is, John. She got everything I said before me.
— What? — John lift his head up in confusion.
— She didn't say anything nor did she looked surprised. — Detective was visibly irritated. — She had to figure it out herself.. — he stopped when he heard creeks on the stairs — What are you doing here? — Lestrade entered the flat grinning.
— She figured out that the victim wanted to die which led us to a right person. — Greg said while still panting a little from running up the stairs. — You're so loud the whole street can hear you! — he laughed.
— Why did you invite her? — Sherlock asked slowly in his deep chest voice.
— Because, Sherlock, while you figure out what happened and lead us to a criminal, Evelyn figures out what people felt which helps us ask the right questions. — Lestrade stated assertively. — While you look for a crime, she looks for intentions and reasons. We arrested the gang without any complications, thanks to you AND we knew what and who to ask so they lead us to smugglers, thanks to Evelyn.

The room was silent. Sherlock was starting blankly at Lestrade and John waited with a concern on his face for Sherlock's response. It was known that Holmes was never capable of empathy, however no one ever thought that something would fly by right under his nose because of it.
— I might be dense and lost somethings but what I'm best at is knowing who to ask for help. — Greg said with a grin on his face when he noticed that Sherlock was not listening to him at all. He sighed and looked at John.
— Tea? — Watson offered.
— Yes, please.

Sherlock sat quietly in his mind palace reviewing the memory over and over trying to get more information about Evelyn Laurier. Her name sounds French but she isn't. She had a unique accent but it was slight, almost impossible to hear if one didn't pay attention. He saw the woman clearly now. Her green eyes and dirty blonde hair, slightly wavy. Bit of blush on her cheeks as it was a chilly morning. Her posture was calm and focused. He just realised that the woman was observing him the whole time. Sherlock frowned at a thought of the psychologist reading him. Worse, observing him like he was an object of some field experiment.

Despite this fact, deep down Sherlock was aware of his pride and how he enjoyed the fascination in Laurier's eyes. She was a threat... but also a positive aspect. Sherlock could not figure out his thought and why he was not fully upset with the situation. And then it hit him. Her gift was something that Sherlock lacked. Something that he was not capable of. Evelyn

Laurier had a gift of unnaturally accurate empathy.