The Science of Sentiment (BBC Sherlock x Reader)

Chapter 21: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

(A/n): this next chapter will switch perspectives a lot- sorry about that.

I also finally updated the cover art :-)

-enjoy-

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Sherlock kept a stoic expression as they left the airport. Hot, California wind whipped his curls to and fro, and he immediately felt uncomfortable in his trench coat. He shed the coat and looked to John, who looked just as uncomfortable as he was.
"Why's it so bloody hot? It's the middle of the night for cries sake," John breathed, rolling up the sleeves of his jumper.
"It is rather warm. I can't imagine what summer must be like here," Sherlock replied in a slightly bitter tone. He trudged along with his suitcase and hailed a cab from the shoulder of the road. He climbed into the car with John following suit.
He relayed the address (y/n) had given them to the cabbie, and they were soon off in the direction of (y/n)'s parents' home.
"Aren't we checking into the hotel first?" John piped up from across from him. His brow was furrowed with confusion.
"No, we'll be staying at the house while we search for evidence." To this, John looked even more troubled, so Sherlock continued. "Mr. And Mrs. (L/n) haven't lived there in over a decade, however, (Y/n)'s grandfather maintains the home out of...Sentiment," the last word rolls off his tongue like poison. "So, it's still in the same condition they left it in."
"And where exactly are they now?" He retorts.
"Long dead. Honestly John, haven't you been paying attention at all?" the detective huffs and elects to stare out the window.
John raises his arms defensively and looks away.

After a two hour long drive, the pair finally arrives at their destination. Sherlock steps out and stands on the front lawn of the home, taking in the serenity of it all. The building is a lavish cottage in a secluded spot- looking like something straight out of a fairytale. The place must have cost a fortune.
John gives a low whistle from behind him. "It's a pretty thing, isn't it?"
Sherlock nods in reply and starts up the front steps. He fishes the key from his pocket and swiftly unlocks the door. The two step inside, both in subtle awe. The interior, if possible, was even more impressive than the outside. The rooms had an aged, vintage look to them, complete with antique furniture and scholarly decorations littering the walls. A huge chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling  above them, reflecting thousands of shards of light.
"Wow," John breathed as he set his luggage down.
"Indeed," his flatmate mumbled. He quickly located the bedrooms that they'd be staying in- two quaint guest rooms down a veering hallway. Sherlock chose the one to the left and tossed his suitcase onto the bed. A thin layer of dust covered the furniture, but he didn't mind it too much. After all, his flat was in a similar state.
He decided to look around a bit more before settling down for the night. He located the bathroom and kitchen with ease, but those rooms didn't hold anything of interest to him. He soon found something a little more exciting- a staircase. He mounted the steps and climbed with caution. The second floor only had a couple of rooms on a single hallway. He ducked into the one closest to the staircase, eager to find something interesting.
He froze in the doorway, realizing which room he had stumbled into immediately. The walls were a faded pink to match the furniture- definitely a young girl's room.
That meant that it could only be (y/n)'s old room.
The furniture was layered with at least three inches of dust, and clearly hadn't been touched in a long time. Photographs of a younger (y/n) hung on the walls. The largest one hung above her dresser and featured her smiling side-by-side with her parents. Sherlock smiled at the picture for a moment, but his grin quickly faded as he sucked in a breath.
Her walls were lined with books and medals from numerous spelling bees and math competitions. A poster hung on one wall, featuring a pop band he didn't recognize.
He turned around to leave as he didn't care for the knot growing in his stomach from the mere thought of his girlfriend (if he could even call her that anymore, he wasn't sure). Suddenly, something registered in his mind. He snapped his eyes up and looked around frantically for his flatmate.
"John!" He shouted as he rushed down the staircase.
The man in question stumbled out of the other guest room, looking like he had already turned in for the night. "What is it??" He huffed as he rushed over to the detective.
Sherlock beamed down at him and paced around the living room excitedly. "John- You remember what (y/n) said about her parents during her childhood?"
John took a seat on the sofa. "Well- she didn't say much, just that they sent her away because her intelligence annoyed them. They sound like rotten people, if you ask me," he looked to Sherlock, who nodded in approval.
"Precisely. They hated her- couldn't even stand being around her, so they sent her to live with her grandfather."
John stared at him quizzically, not quite sure where he was going with this.
Sherlock continued. "However, if that were the case, then why did they leave her room untouched? It seemed to me they would have cleared the place out soon after," His volume rose with each word, excitement swelling in his voice.
"Sure, but she was still their child. I'm sure they just didn't want to let it go," John replied impatiently.
"Fair enough," Sherlock retorted, not missing a single beat. "But most of her stuff is still in that room. What I mean is, she clearly didn't bring much with her when she left. Her parents sent her away in a hurry, as if she were in some sort of danger. A few years later, they both die of unknown causes."
John's brow furrows and he nods slowly, processing the information. "So there's something more to this then, isn't there?"
"Precisely."