The Crimson Curator | (Sherlock x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 6 - Beautiful. I know.

"Afternoon, Molly."

John greeted the specialist registrar as the pair made their way into her laboratory at St Barts.

"Hello!"

The young woman perked up seeing her companions busy themselves around her newest 'patient'.

"Interesting body you've brought in-"

"Yes yes." Sherlock, quite rudely, interrupted, speaking but paying no mind to her as he slipped on a pair of gloves, his eyes ever glued to the deflated corpse. John flashed Molly an apologetic smile, his thoughts immediately turning sympathetic for the young woman. But unfortunately for her, she was quite used to this treatment.

"Found anything interesting?" John asked. He had hoped his question would have diffused any awkwardness that settled into the room, at least, between them and Molly. But John found his lips pursed tightly as he watched Molly shake her head, a somber look across her face as she did. And nonetheless, the two watched as the consulting detective busied himself with the body of Charles Durnbury; transfixed like a moth to a flame.

-

As (Y/n) settled her bag down, finding her new work station already littered with piles of papers, jars of paint and chemicals and brushes upon brushes, she couldn't help the tired smile that broke through her features.

Yes, her work was tiring, but she really did love it.

"Ah- (Y/l/n), I've got someone who I'd like you to meet."

(Y/n)'s boss, a tall blonde woman who looked more intimidating than she actually was, approached with a kind smile. The stack of files in her hands accompanied by the pencil holding up her hair told anyone walking past that although she worked at the gallery, she was normally found handling the important stuff: documents, meetings, and the occasional painting of master status.

As she stepped to the side, she revealed a slightly shorter man, pressed suit with a rather large folder held securely in his hands. The case was large, and by the grip he had on it, (Y/n) assumed it to be a piece of art needing a fresh breath of life. This was, after all, her job: To restore artworks. But her thoughts were cut short by the man's arm now outstretched towards her, a welcoming handshake she wouldn't dare refuse in front of her boss.

"Pleasure. I've heard great things about your work, Ms (Y/l/n)-"

"Please, (Y/n) is fine."

The man smiled, a kindness all over his features, but a hint of something unknown lurking behind his eyes sent a small shiver across her skin.

"Well, (Y/n), I've got a job for you."

The man took a step towards her desk, and picked up the large case, settling it down in front of the three of them before unlocking its heavy duty clasps and swinging the lid open.

Inside, the two restorers stared in awe as they were revealed a beautiful oil painting, quite carefully encased by a stunning golden antique frame; its warm edges contrasting perfectly against the cooler tones of the image within.

"Oh my-"

(Y/n)'s boss couldn't help the exasperation from escaping her lips, and (Y/n) couldn't blame her. This piece was absolutely incredible.

"This is-"

"Beautiful. I know."

The man had cut (Y/n) off, finishing his sentence with a smile that she couldn't help but return, both their appreciation for the piece filling the air around them with a comfortable silence.

But after a while of analysing and admiring, (Y/n) started to feel confused.

She was so used to restoring and taking care of pieces that so clearly needed the help. Artworks from decades ago that were never properly looked after, or loved. But this piece in front of her? It looked close to pristine. Heck, it looked almost fresh!

"I'm sorry- I'm a little confused. Why do you want me to restore this?"

"Oh, no. Not restore. Anyone with two brain cells can see just how well of a condition it's been kept in. And I'll quite happily take credit for that." He smirked, tip toeing back and forth quite cheerily as he spoke, before taking a step forwards, a much more serious look now staring at (Y/n) before he continued, "No, I've come to you now because I would like you to seal it."

(Y/n) shared a look with her boss, who up until this point had held her gaze onto the work that sat in front of them. And rightfully so. But then the two turned back to the canvas, and upon a final glance, they did, in fact, see that this painting had yet to be sealed.

"I-"

(Y/n) stopped herself, finding the right words before she continued to speak, looking over at her boss as she did.

"I'm flattered you think I could seal this masterpiece but I think Ms Winston here would do a much finer job than I."

The blonde woman looked up and the look she gave (Y/n) could only be described as honoured, before she glanced across the room to see two more gallery attendants patiently waiting for her attention.

"I'm afraid I'm needed quickly, so if you'll excuse me for just a moment, then we can get started on sealing this beautiful work."

She smiled before heading off.

And once she was out of earshot, the man reached into his pocket and grabbed a small name card, looking at it thoughtfully before handing it over to (Y/n).

"In case you change your mind, I've got loads of pieces I'd like taken care of, and I think you'd do nicely for the job."

(Y/n) glanced down at the card, seeing very little printed onto it. But what did catch her eye was the rather large 'M' printed on both sides.

"That's very kind of you, Sir, but I'm afraid I don't do private commissions."

She smiled gently, registering the slight disappointment on his face as he registered her words. But then his features changed, and something genuine returned to him.

"Please, call me Jim."

-

"I'm afraid there's not an awful lot to test now that most of the body's fluid is gone. The body is in too much of a state to conduct a full autopsy."

Molly spoke, watching as Sherlock and John moved around the body, gliding across the floor as they yearned to get a better look at certain parts. And eventually, John stood back up, removing his gloves as he did before placing them on his hips, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips as they continued to study Sherlock's movements.

It was evident the detective was looking for much more than what was already on the table. He was looking for clues. He was looking over every part of the body despite having the mental image practically memorised.

The guard's bruises.

The cuts.

Every detail was crystal clear in his mind. 

But most importantly; the wrist in which the watch was sitting upon.

And with this, came the deductions and possible explanations. Such an odd detail, Sherlock thought, to remove a watch in such a hurried way. If it was such an important detail, they why wouldn't the killer have taken the time to remove it properly, and therefore leave no trace? 

But upon turning the guards wrist over, Sherlock straightened his back at the sight before him.

"What is it?"

John's voice was a mixture of curious and knowing, half hoping Sherlock wasn't about to start 'having a go' or spewing some sarcastic comments that were of little relevance or help to anyone. 

But to the doctor's surprise, they were neither."

"Curious." The detective spoke, his eyes never leaving the guards wrist, "Very curious."

---
I wonder what it could be?
ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

Until next time <3