The Art Of Deduction ➢ Sherlock x Reader

V for Vendetta [23]

The curly-haired detective had become the cold man he had once been. His old smile was now replaced by a perpetual stoic grimace, and his dark eyebrows were furrowed and in deep thought most of the time. Sherlock would immerse himself in detective work, but the more he investigated, deduced and solved the crimes.... Everything would remind him of [Name]. He knew that his beloved was gone now and he had accepted it but nobody could ever replace her. His life had become dark and bleak. No more John. No more [Name]. Hell, even Molly, Mrs. Husdon, all of his old 'work friends' were too busy with their own life. Sherlock was ultimately alone. Despite his sociopathic nature, that made him more cold and distant than normal people, that didn't prevent Sherlock from feeling empty.

He didn't work 24/7, however. Sherlock would sometimes visit John and Marry, whom was already heavily pregnant and it didn't take a genius to deduce that in a matter of weeks the baby boy was going to pop out at any given moment. The doctor was too preoccupied with his fragile wife's wellbeing to assist Sherlock in any more cases, and John went as far as to quit his job at the hospital. His best friend, and the man whom he considered a brother was going to have a family of his own.

It seemed as if the sociopathic genius had moved on from the passing of [Name] but the truth was, deep inside, she would never be forgotten. True love is never forgotten. Sherlock didn't care that [Name] had been his first love. And he wasn't embarrassed to say so either. On the day of [Name]'s birthday, Sherlock Holmes would visit her grave and decorate it with her favourite flowers, so that way, the fact that she was long wouldn't hurt as much.

"Hmm, so you say that London is under the threat of a possible terrorist attack?" Sherlock sighed, and the red man with chubby fingers nodded wiping his sweat off with a handkerchief. Nothing so far had made Sherlock interested. It was the usual threats. Self-righteous people claiming to be killing people in the name of God, secret organisations mad at the government.... The usual, typical BORING things. 

The fat man, who Sherlock deduced to be a diabetic, porn addict, with a fetish for young school girls, and love for nicotine continued to speak. It annoyed Sherlock that the obese man was growing more and more startled each second. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. We received these messages from an unknown location in Russia. The person or people didn't leave any evidence to who they were. They...just... said from 'K'?" The plump
redhead male kept rambling, tapping his fingers on his lap with noticeable anxiety and fear.

At this revelation, Sherlock's ear perked with interest. That letter. K.

K.

Why K? Why that very specific letter. 26 letters in the English alphabet and the person choose K? There had to be a reason behind this.

Not so many years ago, he remembered this case. A case with Moriarty. And he used the letter 'K' as a pseudonym. [Name] had been there with him and helped him solve it. Could this possibly be a hidden message from [Name]? Sherlock's heart raced against his chest and his stomach churred. This couldn't be a coincidence. In his line of work, there was no such thing as coincidence, but rather, logical explanations and science behind such occurrences.

"I'll take the case." Sherlock exclaimed with a cheshire cat smile. The pudgy cop rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out a mania folder, and Sherlock quickly snatched it out of his hands, and before the ginger male could say anything, Sherlock had shooed him away out of the apartment and slammed the door right on his face.

The detective spent hours reading the case. Analysing. Exploring his mind palace to see if they're was any valuable information to be found. And there was. The letter which the supposed terrorist had written was in code. Code used by the Russians in World War I and II. Sherlock remembered [Name] being fascinated in military coding. She use to ask John for advice and help since John had served in the military for several years. John's great grandfather had severed in War I and was an expert in coding.

"Oh you brilliant girl." Sherlock whispered. The message was clear and obvious. Nobody had been able to decode it because only a select elite knew this type of code. Those few elite being [Name], Sherlock and John.

Lines and dots soon transformed into words. And Sherlock gasped upon what he saw. It was a message. From [Name].

ÉROCHOMAI

"Erochomai....Erochomai.... Erochomai." Sherlock mumbled pacing back and forth, his hands folded in front of his face and eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

"Geronimo! Erochomai means I am coming in Greek. But whose coming? What is coming? [Name] you crazy, brilliant girl I really do hope it is you." Sherlock yelped in exclaimed and rubbed his hands together. Sherlock felt as if his heart would burst. His very soul felt dizzy with euphoria. The buzz of [Name] coming back was more electrifying than morphine or even nicotine. A possibility with probability. It wasn't a hopeless case. Sherlock knew. He put his whole trust in his deductions. His deductions were his life.

John would tell Sherlock he was delusional. So, the message would stay a secret, for now. It seemed as if  [Name] was plotting a terrorist attack that would supposedly be from the Russian Mafia or even from Moriarty. Distraction. That was the plan. Maybe it was a distraction that would allow [Name] to escape whatever hellhole she was in. The plan was astute, clever and simply cunning. The curly-haired male would expect nothing less of his [Name].

The love of his life. It was at the that moment that Sherlock realised he would be proud to call [Name] his wife. To name his baby girl after her....Even if she didn't plan of having children..... Sherlock wouldn't mind. Maybe, perhaps if she did truly return, Sherlock would ask [Name] to marry him.

He smiled. This time, a genuine, warm smile spread across his face.  Happiness was returning once again and filling his soul.

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A/N~

God I haven't updated this in awhile and I apologise. I doubt my writing a lot and sometimes feel like I should stop writing entirely but I guess that's just the struggles of being a writer. Please let me know of my incorrect grammar and such, because I didn't have time to correct it. Thank you to everyone who keeps reading this despite my VERY late updates.