The Crimson Curator | (Sherlock x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 4 - You Found It?

As the gallery started to close up for the evening, the security guard found himself in and amongst the artworks once more. After the initial scare from the owner, Roy, and the 'amended' statue, he slowly understood that surprises must come with the job. But something, he decided, felt off about this place. 

After that night, the works on the walls felt unnerving; the abstract paintings covered in shades of black, white and red. The tones shifting ever so slightly under the dimmed lights. And the statues felt like they moved. But again, these were always passed off as the effects of tiredness.

"Ah! There you are! Just the man I wanted to see."

The security guard turned to see Roy walking up to him with a remote in hand and an eager look on his face.

"Not heading home yet, Sir?"

"I'm afraid not. Not when there's too much work to be done here."

The security guard nodded, turning his attention fully to Roy.

"What can I do for you then, Sir?"

The guard followed him to the entrance way of the gallery, stopping only once they were in front of the 'bloodied' statue. The security guard looked up, seeing the dried red streaks along the stone and seeing two more newer statues on either side of his peripherals, but these weren't covered in paint.

"I'd like your opinion. But don't be alarmed."

Just then, Roy clicked a switch on his remote, and the lights dimmed, having 3 spotlights turned on; one focused on the bloodied statue, and two more illuminating the other two statues positioned further back. But those two had a projection now alive for them to see. 

A looping video ran, of what looked like blood, dripping down the statues. And although the guard knew first hand that it wasn't real, merely a projection playing in front of him, he still felt a shiver crawl over his body, the rest of the room turning black as his eyes focused on the 3 works.

"So, what do you think?"

Roy turned to see the guard stationed in fear, feeling frozen and helpless, forced to look at the horrific sights in front of him. And he waited patiently, but eagerly, for the guard to finally respond.

"Sir, may I ask, why?"

"Why, what?"

The guard then turned away from the statues and towards the owner, trying his best to block out the thought from his mind. The thought of these statues oozing blood which prompted the thought of something, or someone, trapped within each of them. The chilling, uncontrolled thought of these statues coming alive, or having once been.

"Why create more?"

Roy's face slowly, but surely, moulded into a smug little grin. A look that, in itself, sent a chill down the guards spine.

"Don't you see, my friend? Emotion is a powerful tool. Especially in the arts. And fear? Fear is a powerful emotion."

-

John made his way down the stairs of 221B the next morning, and stopped in the door of the living room, taken in by the sight of (Y/n) as she remained snuggled in Sherlock's chair, his robe still tucked around her safely. Then John registered Sherlock, who had no doubt been up early, a sign of his recent restlessness, and was sitting at the desk, laptop already open, but his gaze was far from it. And John raised an eyebrow, a small smirk lining his lips as he watched Sherlock's watchful gaze shift away from their sleeping resident upon registering the ex-army doctor by the door, now awake.

"Morning."

John spoke, not waiting or expecting a response, moving himself through the living space and into the kitchen to make himself his morning cup of tea, quietly shuffling some of Sherlock's lab equipment that he had stationed across the kitchen counters.