Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

XV • 15

When you woke up, Sherlock was already in the kitchen, eating, to your surprise.
He looked up at you and smiled as you stumbled into the kitchen, still wearing your clothes from yesterday, which were now considerably rumpled.
"Good morning." He said simply.
"Morning." You croaked. You were about to make breakfast right there, but thought better of it, going down to your own flat instead. You were paying rent for a reason.
You took a hot shower, feeling much more alert after you got out. You towel dried your hair then let it down to finish air drying. You made your way to your room and changed into fresh clothes.
Feeling much better, you headed to the kitchen to make your breakfast.
Some tea and crumpets later, you climbed back up the stairs to B.
Sherlock was in his chair now, reading through the papers you and John had collected the night before. He looked up at you with a smile as you entered the room.
"Hello again, (F/N)."
"Hi." You smiled a little, but you were really rather surprised. He was not being himself this morning. Eating on his own, changing into fresh clothes, he appeared to have showered as well.
Greeting me twice within the hour? That was very much not like him at all.
"What's up?" You asked, shaking it off.
"Ah. I've been reading these articles. You were quite right to set aside this one on Vermeer. It's definitely worth checking out."
You grinned, glad to have done something right in the eyes of Sherlock Holmes.
"This one.." He trailed off, holding up the one about the dead cabbie. "It is true, Moriarty was the last thing he said, but I certainly didn't tell anyone about that. How it got out I couldn't possibly guess." He seemed genuinely concerned.
"Anyway." He shook it off as quickly as it had come. "Care to join me at the gallery?" A mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
You had the week off. You grinned.
"How could I refuse? Lass uns gehen! (Let's go!)"
He smiled. "Ja, lass uns gehen. (Let's.)"

******
"The painting is not officially on public display yet." Sherlock said, as you walked toward the Hickman Gallery.
"So how do you plan on seeing it?" You asked.
"Like this." Sherlock produced a hat and jacket that matched those of the gallery security.
"Oh, you're mad as a bag of ferrets." You chided, but grinned your approval.
"I know." He returned your grin. "When we get in there, I want you to hide somewhere you can still see what's going on. After a few moments, the curator will come out and ask me what I'm doing. I want you to watch her for any signs of deceit or dishonesty."
"Okay. Anything about that I should know?"
"Listen to the tone of her voice. It will change significantly, either up or down. More likely up. She will likely repeat any question I ask, and refer to any actions as though they happened years ago. Lack of contractions and pronouns is also a big giveaway as well as deflecting direct questions. She will also look me directly in the eyes if she's lying."
"OK, OK, so voice up, repetition, history, no contractions and pronouns, no direct questions, and eye contact. Yes?"
"Right." He pulled on the jacket and fixed the cap onto his head, then headed inside the museum, presumed just another guard on duty. You followed him at a safe distance, but kept him in sight.
He navigated through the exhibits as though he had a map in his head - well, he probably did.
When he reached the room that was chained off and marked 'Coming Soon', he looked all round, then ducked under the chain. You followed after your own scan.
You found a small nook away from the eyes of someone expecting the room empty. You squeezed in, and watched as Sherlock leaned in towards the painting, hands clasped behind his back, studying it meticulously.
Before too long, a woman came in. You could hear the clicking of her heels before you saw her, but she eventually came into sight.
She was done up, in a fancy black dress, and, as you had expected, high heels.
"What are you doing here? You should be back at your station." She called out, presumably to Sherlock, in a thick Czech accent.
"Doesn't it bother you?" Sherlock asked, turning.
"What?" The woman asked.
"That the painting's a fake. It has to be, it's the only possible explanation." Sherlock said, walking towards her.
"It is not a fake." She was beginning to get flustered.
"It is a fake." Sherlock countered.
"What in God's name are you on about? You know I could have you sacked on the spot." The woman went from flustered to frustrated in a few seconds.
"Not a problem." Sherlock said.
"No?"
"No, don't work here, you see. Just popped in to give you a bit of friendly advice."
"How did you get in?" She asked, suspicion lacing her voice.
"Oh please." Sherlock scoffed.
"How?" She demanded.
"The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight."
"Who are you?" The curator asked, getting increasingly frustrated.
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock replied, walking away, hanging his hat on a rope stand as he went.

You stayed in your spot and watched as the woman, disgusted, saw Sherlock leave, then went to inspect the painting.
Only after she had left did you dare to come out.
Then you dashed.

A/N: Grr sorry about so much exact dialogue... wasn't feeling terribly creative today.