crimson writings ➝ sherlock

chapter five

a few days after their first lunch, sherlock found himself looking for valeria on the street where they first met. and once again, he offered to buy her lunch. even as he was saying the words, he was asking himself why. this time, she refused out of courtesy - instead suggesting having a coffee at her flat.

then again, and few days after that, she ended up at his flat, and the pair just talked. for hours. sherlock couldn't remember the last time he had sat down and talked with someone because he truly wanted to. 

when the time had come for her to leave, sherlock didn't want her to go.

as the months passed, they just kept crossing paths. 

he could feel it happening to him. he started calling her 'val' in lieu of her full name. he enjoyed their talks. he gradually apologised for how he had treated her when they first met. he remembered the things she told him, even the little things - something he never usually bothered to do with others, as to keep room in his mind palace for more 'important' things. but this rule seemed to be ignored when he was around val.

he knew what this was. this was called being 'friends.'

one day, sherlock made a point of bringing this up to val.

"i don't usually have...friends." he had told her. valeria had smiled, her eyes crinkling.

"neither did i."

"nonsense. you always talk about cobie."

"cobie's just a work friend. everyone has a cobie."

"...i don't."

"...well, i'm proud to be all you've got, sherlock."

"...likewise."

✦✦✦

march, 2010

the moment sherlock heard the front door open, and mrs hudson's excited cooing, he knew it was val. "i'm so glad he's got a friend!", she would always say - not to mention, "do give a shout if you need anything, dear." and of course, "are you sure you're not dating?" mrs hudson was just as convinced that the pair were involved romantically as she had been when she first met valeria.

sherlock rolled his eyes as he heard mrs hudson ask the latter question of his friend right on queue, and stood up from his chair, setting down his violin which he had been absent-mindedly plucking.

"coffee, val?" he shouted down the stairs, his voice resonating through the stairwell.

"you're a dear." came the reply, muffled by the structure between them. a smile tugged at the corner of the detective's mouth, and he made a beeline for the kitchen.

his friend was up the stairs and in his flat by the time the kettle had boiled. she didn't have to knock - the door was wide open for her already. sherlock turned as the auburn-haired girl came bouncing into his kitchen in a way not dissimilar to an excited labrador, and as she slung an arm around him, having to get on her tiptoes just to get her arm around his shoulders, he stiffened, his hands pausing over the teabags, his breathing hitching. he still hadn't gotten used to this. val was a hugger, so she hugged him often enough so sherlock felt he couldn't stop her.