crimson writings ➝ sherlock

chapter four

"sherlock...are you crying?"

sherlock started, and the box in his lap tipped slightly at the sudden movement. blinking his bleary eyes, his hand shot out and clamped onto the box almost reflexively just before valeria's precious crimson-written letters spilled onto the floor, and squinted up at john. he hadn't even heard him come in.

"what - what's that you've got?" he asked carefully, taking a step forward, his hands occupied with three shopping bags. his hair was swept back smartly with a copious amount of gel as it always seemed to be now, and he wore a green plaid shirt buttoned all the way to the top. he looked even smarter than he already did next to the wreck that was sherlock holmes. the man's eyes were red, his face was glistening with tears, and he was still shaking as he had been ever since cobie harper had uttered valeria's name.

"n-nothing. nothing." sherlock stammered, scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand and shooting out of the seat, ambling off towards his room, bumping into the doorframe and nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush. he didn't want to share the letters with john. after the events of sherrinford, his drug crazes and their encounter with culverton smith, sherlock had been completely open with his friend, way more than he was used to. surely he deserved to keep this one thing to himself?

"sherlock, i thought we were done with sec-"

sherlock slammed his bedroom door, and in one swift movement, fell onto his bed, took out the next envelope, split it open and slid out the letter. this was the fourth or fifth one. he had to slow down. he was running out of her.

✦✦✦

"you have a lovely home."

"even if you meant that, you'd probably follow it up with something about how i shouldn't get too attached because i won't be able to afford it soon, right?"

"correct."

sherlock hadn't entirely false. valeria's home was a spacious, expensive looking, meticulously decorated flat in a nice area of london where the streets were clean and the crime rate was low. she had clearly started renting it when she was still a doctor with a steady income. 

after they had eaten and were about to go their separate ways, valeria found herself reluctant to leave. sherlock's deduction talent was a wonder to her, albeit a little creepy, and she wanted to see what he could really do.

so, she had convinced him to walk about town with her for a while so he could tell her about the people who passed by them. and even that hadn't been enough. somehow, she further convinced him to explain his mind palace to her over a cup of tea.

"how do you take it?" she called into the living room.

"no milk, two sugars." he called back. he sounded bored.

shaking her head a little, valeria fixed his tea as he had requested, and poured a little milk into her own before picking up both chunky white mugs and carrying them through into the living room. her cat, sam, chased after her, dancing around her ankles as she walked. sherlock was seated on her long black couch, his hands steepled once again as he stared accusingly at her huge framed poster of mia wallace and vincent vega from pulp fiction doing the twist. valeria noticed his interest in it, and she gave a smile as she set the mugs down on her coffee table.

"one of my favourite films of all time." she commented, and his eyes flickered to her. once she registered the absolute lack of  recognition in them, the smile slid from her face, and her eyebrows drew together.

"pulp fiction. the definitive 90's film directed by quentin tarantino."

nothing.

valeria scoffed and propped her hands on her hips. "you've never seen pulp fiction." it was less of an outraged question than the bemused statement she had intended it to be.

"of course not. i do not partake in pop culture." 

"alright..." valeria said softly, dragging the word out. shaking her head, she sat down in her armchair and scooped up her tea, cradling it in her hands. sam mewled up at her, and hurled himself dramatically to the floor. sherlock , casting the animal a strange look, leaned forwards to retrieve his own mug, and as he straightened back up, he cast a sceptical look at valeria.

"besides, you didn't drag me here to talk about overly violent cinema."

valeria's eyes widened, and she pointed at him. "how'd you know it's 'overly violent' if you don't 'partake in pop culture'?"

sherlock rolled his eyes, but valeria didn't let it go. "aha! got you there!" she chuckled.

"do you want to know about my mind palace or not?" sherlock asked

the auburn haired woman paused mid-giggle, and sharply returned her hand to her mug, her expression subsiding to something intently serious.

"yes. please go on." she said, her voice low. sherlock let a puff of air out from his nose. before he began, he took a moment to sip his tea, making valeria wait. she kept her eyes fixed on him, her jaw set as she made herself be patient.

finally, sherlock set his mug down. "are you familiar with the method of loci?"

"no, but i'd assume you are?" she said. sam leapt lightly onto her lap from where he had been lolling on the carpet, and her hand instantly ran down him from head to tail. a deep purr resonated from his throat, his eyes squinting with pleasure.

"it's just another term for mind palace, yes. it is a system of storing memories by plotting them on a map of a familiar location, like your home, and retrieving said memories by finding your way back to them, so you can theoretically never forget anything. please - if you find yourself overwhelmed with information, do alert me."

he expected the woman to instantly do so, but instead - 

"no, keep going. this is really interesting." she said nonchalantly, raising her mug to her lips.

the detective's mouth curved down just a little, and he gave a slight nod. valeria bishop just kept on surprising him.

✦✦✦

sherlock wasn't able to hear john knocking on his door, as he was utterly engrossed in the letters.

"sherlock, mate, are you alright?"

nothing. john sighed, and he rattled the door handle again.

"sherlock, you do know i won't hesitate to tip whatever you're putting in yourself down the drain?"

nothing. the shorter man raised his other hand to force the locked door open, but something was stopping him.

maybe he just didn't want to see sherlock destroying himself again.

resting his head on the door, his eyes flickered closed and he let loose a sigh.

"i thought you were better, sherlock. i really did."