Sherlock X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words (Part 1)

CONTEXT:

Sherlock can draw. Rather well, it turns out. Y/N didn't know about her friend's uncharacteristic hobby until she accidentally stumbled upon some of his sketches.

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It is said that everyone, on average, has about seven secrets. Main secrets, genuine secrets, things they've never even uttered to a best friend or shamefully whispered to a partner.

This story is about a couple of Sherlock's secrets. What is the opposite of a secret? Whatever it is, three of Sherlock's became it on the same day, roughly ten minutes apart.

The word 'secret' brings to mind affairs, twisted kinks, embarrassing moments, and that one thing you don't ever want to think about. In contrast, the three of Sherlock's secrets that this story is about are innocently refreshing.

One of them is that he can draw. Rather well, it turns out. Not only can he draw, he enjoys it. Sketching calms him, and 'sketching' really is the best word to describe his style; quick, darting lines overlapping and overlapping and overlapping until a picture materialises from the chaos. Kind of like a metaphor for the way he sees the world. Why is that a secret? He'll explain later.

The second secret is that he's in love. I won't tell you with whom. You will probably be able to guess.

The third secret sort of intersects the previous two.

...

There are two kinds of people when it comes to keeping something hidden.

The first are very promising when they start off, and become even more promising with every close shave they encounter. Narrow escapes sharpen their caution and cause them to tuck their secret even closer to their bodies than before. Their secrets tend to remain that way until the day they die, and, often, even more days after that.

The second kind seems to go the opposite way. They buckle under the pressure and eventually get lazy. The grip on their secret loosens and loosens until they drop it, naked, for all the world to see. They almost beg for close shaves, for someone else to pry the secret from them so it at least looks like they put up some kind of fight.

There were three times in total that Y/N almost unearthed Sherlock's secret, and one time that she did. The one time that she did occurred because he is very much the second kind of secret keeper.

The only way to become good at drawing is by doing it again and again and again and again, and then repeat those steps for many years. If you love to draw, which Sherlock does, this won't be seen as a chore. In fact, a lot of people draw because they love to draw, and are not even trying to become 'good'. They are then pleasantly surprised when 'goodness' seems to just happen; a pleasing byproduct of their hobby. Sherlock wasn't trying to become 'good' when he picked up a crayon as a toddler, a felt-tip as a child, a pencil as a teen, and (metaphorically) never put it down. He just...likes to draw.

The first time Y/N almost found out about his secret was because of this.

...

"You drink hot chocolate?" Y/N had asked, turning her face to give an inquisitive look at Sherlock who was walking next to her. He was watching a whirlpool of leaves skitter around their feet like brittle ghosts. He'd suggested they visit a cafe Y/N was surprised he knew about; He didn't seem the type to visit a place called the Pink Giraffe. It brought up mental images of lazy days meandering about the London sights, sugar-filled nibbles, and gaggles of friends. All things Sherlock had never really shown an interest in. Apart from the sugar-filled nibbles. Maybe that was why he wanted to go.