Heavenly Holmes • Sherlock x Reader

7 • dust

(Forgot to mention this in the previous A/N but let's just pretend- for the sake of this story that Rosamund's name is Anna.)

"Sherrinford?" I try to pronounce, and he nods with a look of utter disgust.

"I'd prefer to be Klaus, and you my Serenit-"

"No." I interrupted, shaking my head.

He frowned slightly.

"How about you be yourself...be Sherrinford...and I can be Y/N." I said softly.

"You want to be yourself?" He scoffed.

"Of course." I reply, tensing up more and more the longer he stared at me.

His eyes were something that I could not describe. It was the pupils. Round olive circles- a stunning dilation accompanied by a dead stare. That blank gaze into a wonderland.

But even he looks like a dream. He has been covered in an odd dust all this time. Like everything I have seen these past few...days? months? centuries? hours? minutes...?

He went silent for a while, just looking at me as I felt goosebumps crawl up my arms. I swallowed dryly and finally moved my gaze away from him and averted my attention to the old carpet. It was dusty.

The setting of this place alarmed me. It was not quite 21st century- not at all. This was Victorian furniture. Worn out vintages. Also dusty. As if I was stuck in a completely different era. However, it was very blurry. Perhaps it was the dust. Yes.

"Wouldn't you rather escape the past?" He asks slowly.

I blink to get a better- less blurry image of his face. When it is to no avail, I give up. It was frightening not to be able to view something and all its little particles. I'm not so sure why.

"No- I want to go back to the past. I miss my family." I tell him. My tone gives away my nervousness.

"Well, you can't because you're dead. So you should make the best of what you have here- that is, just until I can get you to heaven." He says hesitantly.

"I'm sorry- but you keep saying that...How?" I ask weakly, looking back into his eyes again.

"I can be your family. First tell me about them. What are their names?" He smiled, moving closer to me.

I remember the last time I said Sherlock's name I got a frightening reaction from him. But something inside me wanted to learn more.

"I have a son named William. Sherlock and I...are his parents." I said carefully.

His recoiled with anger but quickly shook the intimidating expression off- replacing it with a very uneven and unsettling smile.

____

William POV

"Hand me the map, Anna." My father says, to which Anna quickly gives it to him.

They were both in the kitchen, and had cleared the table of all its experimental elements- instead replacing it with multiple spreadsheets, sketches and maps with many altitudes.

Anna shared the same look of determination in her glittering eyes that my father did. She was so calm and calculative as she assisted in my father's research.

Due to my inability to comprehend the elements of their work, I simply lounged on my father's sofa and watched them in their focus. Mostly Anna.

She was a mystery.