crimson writings ➝ sherlock

chapter two

"how the hell did you get this?" sherlock said quietly, still staring at the box, at the message she had written for him.

cobie was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. "she gave it to me for safekeeping, until...y'know. what it says it on the box."

FOR SHERLOCK.

his throat bobbed as his hands slowly found their way onto the lid of the box, the tips of his fingers tracing the corners and the edges.

"h-how did you know her?" sherlock asked tentatively. what he really wanted to say was why would she trust you with this?. But just speaking about valeria had shaken him to his core. he was in no state for interrogation.

DELIVER TO HIM

"we used to work together, at the hospital." the woman answered, watching sherlock with concern. he was shaking, and he hadn't looked up from the box since he'd taken it from her. "we kept in touch for a while after, but i didn't see her properly until she turned up at my door with...that. i...i don't know what's in it, so i'll assume it's private."

IN THE EVENT OF

he wasn't listening to her. valeria's handwriting was so familiar, so... her. soft curves, neatly aligned, and yet each line was slanted and uneven. he found himself reading each word again and again.

"a-and i'm sorry it's so late. y'know - you were gone for a long time."

not a word.

"what - what happened to her, sherlock?"

he froze.

"how did she die?" cobie asked softly.

MY DEATH.

slowly, sherlock lifted his head to meet her eyes. cobie took one look at him, cleared her throat, and slipped away with a mumbled goodbye.

returning his attention to the box, sherlock read the message on the lid five more times, afraid to open the box and see what his dead friend had left for him. he brushed his hands over the surfaces, did his best to deduce how long ago valeria had written the message, doing everything except opening it. 

written - september 2012.
time of death - 2nd
november 2012.
took two years to be
delivered.

then, he realised that if he didn't open it soon, john could come home and see it. he he wanted to be selfish. he wanted to keep this to himself. so, drawing a shuddering breath that seemed oddly loud in the quiet of the empty flat, he slid his hands to the lid and very carefully lifted it away.

he stopped breathing.

countless pristine white envelopes, with his name signed over and over again on each one in swirling crimson. they were numbered in each right hand corner, and sherlock carefully sifted through the box with shaking fingers until he found the envelope labelled '1'.

doing his best not to tear the paper as he shelled the envelope open, he slid out the letter inside, unfolded it, and began to read.

'IF SHE DELIVERED THE BOX,
AND YOU'RE READING THIS...'

✦✦✦

it had been two days since the woman's encounter with the tall man in the long coat, and she had made sure to station herself far away from st. barts ever since. she still hadn't shaken the indignation the man had left her with. she just couldn't comprehend how someone could be so rude.

so when she looked up from her guitar in the midst of 'wish you were here' and spotted the man's dark curls in the small crowd around her, she was less than pleased.

in the moment she wasn't paying attention to her song, she stumbled over a chord. flinching, she looked right back down at her guitar. she knew she had turned some embarrassing shade of red. 

although she wouldn't have called herself confident, she wouldn't have said she was shy either. regardless, she hated making mistakes. her throat bobbing, she focused entirely on her guitar, humming the lyrics of the pink floyd song to keep herself on track, and doing her best to ignore that she could feel the man's stare in amongst the rest of the crowd's. it was difficult to do all three at once. as a result, it was perhaps the worst she had ever performed, and the song was barely past the halfway point before the entire crowd had dissolved.

except him, of course.

her lips pursed as he made his way over to her, taking his time.

"i wasn't putting you off, was i?" he asked, his eyes crinkling.

"what do you want?" the woman asked bluntly, expecting him to tell her things about her life as if she didn't know them already, or insult her meagerness or her guitar talent again.

but instead, without a slight change in facial expression, he said, "i want to buy you lunch."

she blinked. "sorry?"

his eyes rolled in a perfect arc, and he stuck his tongue in his cheek. "why do you keep doing that?"

"doing what?"

"blinking vacantly and apologising?"

the woman scoffed, folding her arms. she couldn't believe him. "i don't mean to be rude, but you are. why are you insulting me and expecting me to agree to lunch with you?"

"because you need it, you're poor. unless you've come into a large amount of money in the past two days, which i highly doubt - are you coming?" he gestured down the street impatiently.

the woman stared at him stoically, her jaw popped to the side. she was hungry. surely he deserved a second chance?

taking a deep breath, she slung her guitar off her shoulders, locked it into it's case, and straightened back up with her instrument in one hand and the other extended towards the man. 

"i'm valeria bishop." she said, a reluctant tone to her voice. his large hand enveloped hers without missing a beat, and they shook firmly.

"sherlock holmes."

✦✦✦

sherlock placed the letter down as carefully as possible, his mind brimming with memories and his eyes brimming with tears.