Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXXXII • 82

John was gone to work, so I shut myself in my rooms, forcing myself to concentrate on the case. It took all of my willpower, but somehow I managed to remove all thoughts of you from my mind, though I knew it wouldn't last long. I centralised everything I had on those girls, adamant that I'd get to them before it was too late.
I'd gone to the Children's Home, now I needed to scope out the area of the Lea that the kid's bodies had been discovered. I took the case file and my coat and headed back out the door. I hailed a cab and got in, then directed the driver to bring me to the riverside.

Your POV:

You'd heard him leave again not twenty minutes after he'd come home. Curious, you risked a glance out your window. You saw him getting into a cab and it drove off. What had you expected? A glowing sign on the back announcing his destination? And why did you even care?

Sherlock's POV:

Nearly an hour later, I was standing on the bank of River Lea looking out at the wharf where most of the bodies had been discovered. I swallowed the emotions that were boiling up inside of me. They were dead and there was nothing I could do about it- I could only endeavour to save the ones who were still alive. Hopefully.
I had just started investigating the shoreline, looking for any clue as to their whereabouts when I ran into a woman. Literally.
"Sorry!" She said, hefting the camera she wore around her neck.
I squinted at her suspiciously, remembering the figure who had been photographing me since I'd come back.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" She said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Great place to take pictures."
"Yeah." I said, slowly, my suspicion evident.
"Hey, um, I'm taking pictures for my class this week, and one of my assignments is portraits. Would you humour me?" She looked hopeful.
"No. I'm busy."
Her face fell. "It won't take long." She added.
"I said no. I'm not a model." I turned away, continuing my investigation without another glance at the woman. There was a nagging in the back of my mind, however. She couldn't have been under 40, therefore it seemed statistically unlikely she was actually a student. It bothered me, but I couldn't let it take precedence in my mind. When I looked up, she was gone. I was suddenly wary. Her behaviour just wasn't quite right. Again, I reminded myself that I couldn't worry about an odd photographer when I needed to find the girls. I pushed all thoughts of her out of my mind and forgot about her.

John's POV; Later:

When I came home from work, Sherlock was already in his room and he'd taken his violin with him. I sighed and sat down. You'd not talked to him since your fight. It worried me, the chasm that had formed between you and Sherlock. The music that emanated from his room was more depressing than I'd ever heard him play before, and that said something. I retired to my own room, trying to shut it out.
He played the same somber notes on and off all night.

When I woke up he was still shut in his room, never coming out for food or any other necessity. The music started up again and I knew he hadn't slept at all.
I stopped at your door on my way out for work.
"Who is it?" You asked groggily when I knocked.
"Your brother, (F/N)." I said, despair in my voice.

Your POV:

You opened the door a little and saw John, complete desperation on his face. He cut to the chase. "You need to talk to him, (F/N). He's starving himself again, not sleeping, not even coming out of his room. I've never heard music so depressing."
"If he's not coming out of his room how do you know he's not sleeping?" You asked, defiantly.
"Because his dismal music kept me awake most of the night." He raised his voice, but more in anguish than anger.
"Fine." You said.
"Promise me, (F/N)."
You sighed. "I promise."
What had you just gotten yourself into?
"Thank you." He left the building, heading to work.
You closed the door. Despite your defiance, you were killing yourself with this separation. You'd thought it was best, but you couldn't survive like this.
You'd promised John, and you'd never broken a promise to him.
You sat in your rooms for several more minutes, reasoning with yourself. Finally realising that you had no choice but to apologise, you swallowed your pride and opened the door, standing in the hallway for another few minutes, fear now taking over.