Inhuman

Snowflakes

"'Look after him' he said," Valerie grumbled. She threw the dagger up in the air once more. "'It'll be interesting' he said..."

She caught it again, a mere inch from her face.

The woman had stretched out on the couch, bored out of her mind. She had read through a few novels, stopping after she figured out what the problems were, then narrowed down the possible and probable outcomes to one. Eventually she gave up trying to actually finish the books (as she ended up being right each time), and sped through a riddle book. She quickly got bored again, and slept through her host's meetings with clients– the one thing that would actually interest her. She awoke a couple hours later, startled to find a blanket over her, although her toes were peeping out.

They were freezing.

Heat's down, she noted, standing up with the blanket around her shoulders. She noticed a cup of hot tea, recently boiled. She took it,  knowing it was intended for her.

Valerie walked to the window, pushing the chair at the desk with her feet. It was snowing quite heavily, and didn't show any signs of stopping. She looked at a couple of kids across the street, yelling and cheering.

They were making snow angels.

Strangely, it brought her some sort of peace. Some comfort. The pureness of the snow and the children's happiness. Something warm inside that wasn't evoked by the tea, but by the simple joy of hearing the children's laughter.

The fact unnerved her.

"You've woken up I see," Mrs. Hudson stated, popping her head out from the kitchen. "Sherlock texted me a few moments ago saying you would wake up soon. I'm glad you got the tea."

Valerie smiled and thanked her. She was positive she had understood the basics of her studies of the human nature. This was a response they liked, or so she was told.

Valerie found this woman curious. She wasn't Holmes's housekeeper, but she sure as hell fit the role. She wasn't a relative, and didn't ask for anything in return. She merely kept his house manageable because she... wanted to.

Curious... she mused. Very curious indeed...

Valerie went back to watching the snowflakes fall, sipping her cup.

"Oh," Mrs Hudson turned to Valerie from her tidying. "Sherlock went out to see about the heat a little while ago, but he should be back anytime-"

Slam.

"Oh, you're awake," Sherlock stomped his feet on the mat, flinging his coat on the chair closest to him. He wore his usual white button up, first couple buttons undone, black blazer also being flung aside. He kept his scarf on though.

Mrs. Hudson brought him some tea while he got to work on his laptop, laid across his chair lazily.

The pair sat in the living room in silence, occasional tapping of the keys and sipping of tea hardly noticeable. Sherlock's landlady left some time ago but neither of them paid heed.

Sherlock's eyes trailed from the screen to the woman at the window. Her face seemed to glow a little–probably the contrast of the dark setting of the room and the bright snow, he mused– highlighting her long lashes and slightly crooked nose, faded freckles here and there. She looked peaceful, sitting there in thought, his favorite tea cup in one hand, other hand clutching the blanket that was hanging loosely off her almost bare shoulders.

His screensaver activated, but his eyes were still on Valerie, lost in his own thought.

"What's it like, Holmes?" She whispered, still looking out.

He blinked, snapping out of his trance. "I'm sorry...?"

"What's it like... being...normal?"

He blinked once more, taken aback. "Well, I," Sherlock furrowed his brows. "...wouldn't know."

"Take a guess."

He shrugged, circling a finger on the touchpad to wake his laptop back up. "Boring, I presume."

The tapping continued.

She chuckled, voice low and soft. "I suppose you're right, in your ways. It must be interesting though, being like everybody else. Just another snowflake in the wind."

It paused.

Sherlock's long fingers hovered over his keys, train of thought gone. He didn't want to chase it, anyways.

He slowly got up, standing behind his guest and shutting his laptop close. He looked out at the blizzard, soon becoming entranced by it as well. "What would it matter," he started slowly. "To hail like us?"

Valerie cocked her head to the side
slightly. "I guess you're right again, detective," She hummed. "But you can't ignore the fundamentals."

"...I suppose not."

They took a another few moments before Valerie turned to look at him, eyes gleaming. "Hey, let's go out, shall we?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow before snorting. "Don't be ridiculous, it's freezing out there. There's a blizzard outside for God's sake."

She laughed, leaving the blanket on the chair. "Oh, don't be a spoilsport, Sherly! C'mon, when's the last time you've had some real, childish fun? Where's your sense of immaturity?"

He rolled his eyes at the woman getting dressed for the outdoors, crossing his arms. "Not a speck of it since..."

John was here...

He trailed off, not wanting to answer.

She smirked, knowing the answer, sticking her nose up triumphantly. "Hah. Now put on your silly hat. I hear it's cold outside."

Valerie tossed it to the frowning man, walking over to his coat closet. Picking a smaller dark blue one– presumably one he hadn't worn it in a while- she slipped it on. A little big around the waist and shoulders, she noted, but she could make it work.

"Why, might I ask, are you wearing my coat?"

She shrugged, tying the strip of fabric around her waist to tighten it. "Because mine is at the dry cleaners, of course. My, you surely would have deduced that."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest it was a rhetorical question, but instead a sighed was released as he fingered the hat she threw to him. She smiled at him, bending down to pull on her boots, then her gloves. Sherlock rolled his eyes, tossing the hat behind him, but got ready soon enough, opening the door for her. She nodded gratefully at him, amused. "Thank you, darling. Be proud. You're living proof chivalry isn't dead."

~*~

Sherlock had almost forgotten about the cold, focusing instead on how ridiculously childish the woman looked. Snowflakes caught on her hair and lashes, wind freezing her cheeks, nose, and ears pink. Her mouth parted, letting out puffs of visible breath, eyes wide with wonder as she stared out at the canal.

It had frozen over, and with white powdered tree branches hanging over the stone sides, Sherlock had to admit, it was somewhat aesthetically pleasing.

"For God's sake, may we please go now? You've been staring at this thing for ten minutes!"

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain, Holmes," She chided. "Honestly. And you know as well as I do that I've been staring at the scenery for only nine minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Be precise."

"I rounded. Now if you've nothing better to do that concerns me, I'll be going home."

And so he did, he walked briskly to the street, trying to hail a taxi. They had walked through the blizzard, Sherlock unable to out-argue the persistent woman. He 'humphed', irked. He spotted the headlights of one down the road, and yelled out to it.

...Right before a snowball hit him hard on the back of his neck, snow sliding down his back into the coat. He froze, spinning around. He glared defiantly at the cheeky woman, but was hit square in the face by another snowball. Valerie grinned, dancing away from Sherlock as he stared at her.

"'Tis the season, love," she laughed, blushing slightly. "Allow me to be a snowflake, just this once.