Pluviophile: A Sherlock fan-fiction

Chapter 4 - The Solutions

'God they always said you were a cantankerous asshole'

The words circled round Sherlock's mind: over and over and over and over.

They. Who are they?

By now he was walking alone 'round the blackened streets of London, replaying the events from the bar in his mind.

How did I not notice this? Sherlock asked himself.

He stopped at a bench and slumped down into it. His brain was firing away at a million miles an hour trying to make sense of what happened.

When I first met her...

She was so charismatic. Only touching for a mere second yet it seemed like a lifetime. Eyes scanned across her, reading her every detail but nowhere did Sherlock find traits of a thief.

At the bar...

Talking and laughing together for what seemed like hours. Never short of conversation. Never an awkward pause. And never anything that screamed thief.

It just didn't make sense. She didn't take anything, her soft, slender hands in Sherlock's view the whole evening. Even when they collided- the first time they met- nothing escaped from Sherlock's pockets.

But why? He was a prime suspect for all she knew: unknowing and naive. Yet she still never took the opportunity to take advantage of that...

'It's not overly permanent'

She never once seemed to be actually working in the bar. No boss came over attempting to break their conversation, no colleague warned her about missing work. In fact, no one payed her any attention. It was like she was.... invisible....

An invisible thief.

An invisible thief who doesn't steal....

It doesn't make sense!

Sherlock's mind was screaming now. The cogs in his brain spiralling out of control and causing a painful ache to surge through his head.

He needed a break from this. From her. In fact, what he really needed was a fix... something to... calm his nerves.

You promised John you wouldn't, Sherlock!

Sherlock's conscience argued against the prospect of being fired out of control. Senses heightened beyond point of recognition, nerves firing at every minuscule stimulus: fearing it would only make the matter drastically worse.

Oh, who cares what John thinks. He's probably off shagging one of his incompetent girlfriends. I need find out who he's got onto now, I'll get one of my....

Sherlock stopped, as if his brain had slammed the breaks on his thought process.

Wait. Wait.

That's it. She's one of mine! That's how she knew me! That's who they are!

Sherlock bounded up from his place on the bench, beaming wide and clasping his hands together. He landed gracefully on his toes and sprung into a brisk walk- his mind now settled on his newfound solution to the problem at hand.

Sherlock once again had misread the beauty that is Elizabeth Turner. He'd turned a blind eye to the one thing that mattered most about her. About her life, her work, her everything. Liz was defiantly a thief, and a good one at that. However, she had a purpose. And how Sherlock loved things that served a purpose. Especially when that purpose....

was him.

Liz Turner was part of Sherlock's homeless network.

A.N.

That was the crappiest chapter I have ever written. Soooooo sorry for the incredibly long wait, I have been mega busy and I had to delete wattpad for a while because my phone had a bit of an episode a few weeks ago. But here it is. Question: did you see that coming? Just curious :D

I'll try and update more ASAP !!!

Lotta love <3