Sherlock x OC - The Black Masquerade Mask (Book 1)

Morgue for Feelings

A few minutes have passed and I received a text from Mycroft, he would've called I guess. But he knew I was not done 'cooling off'

'Irene Adler is dead, is that possible? M'

'We need to check the body. ER'

Sherlock walked out of the bedroom informing Molly he needed to check something up in the morgue. I picked up my bag and followed as well. This was an important moment for me.

We've reached the morgue and Mycroft was there waiting, none of us saying anything, especially Sherlock. He was too silent. It was uncomfortable. I decided to stay outside until they inspected the body. I knew Irene was faking her death one way or another, she does that a lot to divert attention from herself.

The door slammed knowing the boys were done I turned around to see Sherlock, emotionless. "Confirmed?" I asked. He nodded. I felt bad for him, he couldn't bring himself to talk. The door slammed again, Mycroft coming out. He took out a pack of cigarettes, they were Irene's... and got three out. Shoving a cigarette next to Sherlock's face "Just the one"

Sherlock looked back at his older brother "Why?" Mycroft smiled from behind him and said "Merry Christmas" Sherlock turned around and picked it up, "Smoking indoors, isn't it one of those law things" Sherlock stated, as if concerned. Mycroft passed me a cigarette, "We're in a morgue, there's not much damage you can do" He commented, his voice calm and steady.

We all took puffs from our cigarettes, inhaling, and exhaling the smoke. "How did you know she was dead?" Mycroft asked curiously. I looked over at Sherlock, "She had an item in her possession...when she said her life depended on it she chose to give it up" He explained inhaling a puff of smoke. Sherlock never smoked, it meant this is serious for him. He's experiencing heart breaking feelings. I felt guilty.

"Where's this item now?" Mycroft asked, as they both exhaled the smoke and I just watched the two brothers conversing quietly with no sibling rivalry for once. Mycroft wanted to comfort Sherlock, but he didn't know how. It was heartwarming how much he cared.

They both turned to look at the window in the door, I did too. Looking at the people crying across, miserable christmas for them. Losing someone near the holidays isn't pretty. Every holiday becomes unbearable "Look at them, they all care so much... Do you ever wonder there's something wrong with us?" Sherlock asked.

"All lives end, all hearts are broken, caring is not an advantage...... Sherlock" Mycroft said looking over at me and then back at Sherlock. We both exhaled, each one of us feeling sorry for himself. Oh the irony.

"This is low tar" Sherlock commented on Irene's cigarette. "Well, you barely knew her" Mycroft said. Sherlock smirked, not knowing how to react or what to do. I put my cigarette out and got ready to leave, Sherlock heading out the door and I followed. "Merry Christmas Mycroft" He said walking away. "AND a happy new year" Mycroft replied.

Sherlock and I got in a cab and left off to Baker Street, none of us muttering a word. I took out my phone and decided to text Jim 'He's heartbroken, but I won't back off'

I won't back off because he is heartbroken. I felt miserable seeing him like that, he wasn't himself. He wasn't the sarcastic ass he was, he was unusually quiet. He sighed in annoyance "Deep thoughts about what?" He asked snapping me out of my thoughts.

I sighed, "You" He looked up at me as if not believing what he's hearing. "Why?" Sherlock asked. "I didn't know you cared about her that much, I'm sorry for the loss" I said, couldn't bring myself to say your loss.

He stared at me intently, "I didn't know I cared that much either" his words were genuine. I nodded "It's okay, thats what happens when we feel something for the first time, we don't realize it's there until we lose it, or we feel we're losing it. We feel it in our hearts, but people like us Sherlock, with no emotional attachments, we don't feel until we lose. And when we lose, that's when we realize the emotions that we've been ignoring for a long time are actually there, placed deep inside of us leaving an empty space in the form of the person " I said, slowly. Letting every word sink in, I was talking about his situation with Irene here, and my situation with him. Ironic, isn't it?

"You're speaking from experience" Sherlock commented. "I have very little experience in that area, don't know how to handle it" I said. "Don't? Present tense" Sherlock deduced. I shook my head "Forget it, a lot of things you don't need to pressure yourself with" Sherlock arched an eyebrow as he opened the cab door. "This isn't over"

We both got out of the cab and went upstairs, Sherlock went ahead of me and stopped suddenly making me bump into him. He wasn't even bothered, he was just checking the place out. Clearly John was looking if Sherlock is clean or not.

I heard Sherlock has a tendency to abuse drugs. I decided to have a drink, and go to bed. Sherlock was in bed and I was sleeping on the futon. There was silence, but not the uncomfortable awkward silence. No it was very comfortable silence. As if, we were communicating silently.

Both of us lie awake, and almost 30 minutes passed I decided to make him feel better, I sighed "It heals by time" I said getting up from the futon and going over to the dresser. I saw him sit up in bed, I poured a glass of wine and gave it to him.

"Time and alcohol, key to ease any kind of pain" I muttered. Sherlock took a sip of his wine, he never drinks. But he must be experiencing something alienated for him to be terrified that he would drink. "You've lost someone around christmas" Sherlock stated more than asked. I nodded, "Moriarty killed mother around Christmas" I said gulping the lump in my throat.

"Who else?" Sherlock asked, I didn't understand what he meant by that. "What?" I asked confused. He looked at me, his eyes sparkling in the dark. "What can't you handle?" He asked referring to the past conversation we had in the cab.

"Just...experiencing certain things with a certain someone, I'm not good with feelings, so I don't know how to react to all this. It's all new to me, just like it is to you" I said diverting this to him. "You can take action at least, you haven't lost that someone right?..." I stayed silent "I was impressed by The Woman, but I didn't love her that way" He said defending himself "Who impressed you? Must be someone very special" Sherlock smirked. 

"He is special, but he can be an ass" I said smiling a little. He passed me the glass of wine and I took a sip. "Does he exist?" Sherlock asked in a serious tone which made me chuckle. "Yes of course he's real!" I said. The mood was changing from gloomy to less gloomy. The atmosphere was too comfortable and I decided this might never happen again. 

"Does he like you?" Sherlock asked, prying wanting to know more and more about this. "I'm not sure, he likes me sometimes, we have a weird connection..." I looked up at him "certainly a strong bond...but he's a psychopath" I said muttering the last words as I handed him the glass of wine. He took a large swig finishing the glass off his eyes not leaving my face. I took the glass from him and placed it on the dresser. "Try to sleep Sherlock" I said drifting off in my futon.

"Night" He muttered.

The Next Morning

I woke up to the sound of Sherlock's violin, I got up and saw him playing by the window, wearing his blue robe, a sad tune echoing. I sighed, Reflects the way he's feeling, I sighed again and went to the bathroom...Too dramatic I need to get away from here, this flat is infested with feelings, and I swear if I caught some more I'm probably going to kill myself. I couldn't watch the person I liked grieve over a woman who used to love ME. Oh the damn irony. 

I texted Jim 'I'm ready to get him out of my system'... Sorry Mycroft.