Sherlock Imagines/Preferences

16: Art

Sherlock: The detective was gone for a while on a case so you took up completing a painting. The subject took ages to come up with and then you made sure that the sketch was perfectly precise. It took days of planning, drawing, erasing, re-drawing, blending, and squinting at from odd angles. Afterwards, you set up an easel in the living room and gathered all of the materials you needed. Your fingers carefully picked up the brush to dip into the acrylic paints and practically caress the canvas with it. The first day was hours of applying the base layer of color. Next, you began adding texture with the paint and focused intensely to ensure that the product would be exactly as you envisioned. You didn't even hear Sherlock enter.

"I'm back, (Y/N)! What are you doing?" He questioned.

You tuned him out and he waited until your hand was away from the canvas.

"Sorry?" You asked him, finally returning to reality.

"I've returned from the case. Quite simple, but the murderer was rather difficult to catch. She was a speedy runner." He informed you.

"Lovely. I took up painting while you were away, as you can see."

Sherlock stared at it for a while as he analyzed the subject of your art piece. You were hoping slightly that he wouldn't be able to figure it out, however, the sheet music on the table beside your easel made it quite obvious to him.

"That's my composition." He muttered quietly.

"Yes." You nodded, "It was so beautiful that I just had to paint what image it created in my mind."

"You've done quite well, darling. I'd say that you have some talent."

"Only when I have decent inspiration."

John: You and Rosie were occupied with a book of massive coloring pages while John was at work (you had a day off). She was applying lots of effort in staying within the lines of the picture depicting an adorable cartoon hedgehog with the markers in her hand. You had selected a random page within the book and colored it in neatly.

"Yours looks very nice, Rosie. I can tell that you're really trying." You commented.

"Thank you, I like hedgehogs." She replied with a smile.

"Really? I like (Y/Fav/Animal)."

"I like those too."

Sherlock made an appearance and began to compose on his violin, running a few pieces of other composers every once in a while. Rosie swayed in her short chair occasionally as she picked up different colors of markers to complete her picture.

"Look, (Y/N)! Do you like it?" She asked.

"Yes, of course! It's lovely Rosie. We should show your father when he comes home." You suggested.

"Show me what?" John asked as he arrived at the top of the stairs leading up to the flat.

"I did a picture, daddy!" Rosie exclaimed cheerfully and showed him her masterpiece.

"Let's hang that up, it's very good baby." He told his daughter while hugging her.

Moriarty: He was in his study for work and you wanted some of his attention, sitting beside his desk with a notebook to wait until he acknowledged you. Jim had a very important task that you knew wouldn't be wise to interrupt so you began sketching in the notebook. Time flew by as your hands illustrated what your eyes peeked up to look at very few seconds to make an accurate drawing. An hour and a half had passed, plenty of time for you to finish a very detailed sketch of the scene before you.

Finally, Jim spoke to you: "Thank you for allowing me to finish. Now, what do you have to tell me?"

"Huh? Oh, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to do anything right now since I was getting bored." You replied as you looked up from the page and put the pencil down.

"What've you got there, darling?"

"Sketch. Not all that good, sorry."

"I doubt it, show me."

You shyly showed him the drawing of him with a concerned expression over a desk and a tall, antique bookshelf behind his figure.

"This is amazing, why wouldn't you show this to me? I honestly think you have a talent for this, (Y/N)."

Lestrade: As a gift, you were given a watercolor painting kit. It took you ages to finally get around to actually using it. The various paintbrushes, special papers, water dish, and guidebook were spread all across the table you'd set-up on. A vase of delicate flowers and leafy stems stood before you on the table with only natural lighting shining over it.

"Hey, love, I'm back at home." Greg greeted you as he opened the door.

"Great! You can help me because I don't know exactly how to start with this." You pleaded.

"What are you doing?"

"Watercolor painting."

"Goodness, I was horrid at that in school. If anything, I'll ruin it."

"Oh please, there are no mistakes in art."

"Well, there were definite issues with any piece of art I've ever attempted to complete. All of which were forced upon me in school."

You gave him a lopsided smile before going back to the painting as he watch fully kept an eye over you shoulder to help, even if he wasn't physically assisting you.

Mycroft: You'd always been quite good with paints, pens, markers, and all sorts of those tools for 2-dimensional art pieces. The boredom of monotony made you switch over and start with other materials as a newer experience.

However, it wasn't as fun as you'd hoped. The clay dried out your hand and was stored in a cold place, making it incredibly difficult to work with. After about an hour, you'd given up on the endeavor and went to find something else to do. Mycroft saw what happened through one the billion cameras he had all over England and found your childish frustration amusing.

Molly: A coupon for a free session at an art studio class arrived and the two of you decided to go for fun. The lady teaching spoke calmly for the majority of the time with random words that she would emphasize while talking. Her clothing ensemble was very avant-garde and unique, representing her individual artistic personality. You sat beside Molly and tried to recreate the image the teacher made on the canvas. Being a rather simple design, the entire class finished quickly and the lady moved on to a broader task- providing the class with materials but allowing any kind of image be created.

"The paints are over here, but make sure to wash out the brushes!" She called out as Molly stood up to get some decorative paper.

You picked up items that weren't far from where you were seated and attempted to make an appealing image without a crazy amount of effort. Neither you nor Molly glanced at the other's work. Towards the end of the period, the woman chose some of her favorite pieces. She particularly enjoyed Molly's and yours was also up there in her list.

Irene: Her regular canvas was not a piece of paper at all, nor a thick chunk of clay. Irene specialized in makeup images on her face. But there were rare times when she would actually paint, gathering several materials to prepare herself. The drawings she made usually focused on human subjects, as she was very good in capturing and illustrating the human form. Irene would teach you during some of her down time.

"Curve the neck more." She suggested, taking your hand loosely and guiding the pencil.

"I can never get the eyes symmetrical." You commented to her.

"Then here, let me draw that one part and you do the rest. I can help with shading and such."

Irene's careful hand drew an eye shape then she squinted her own eyes as she drew the other one. For the rest of the time, she stood behind you with a watchful eye. Surprisingly or not, she was a good art teacher. Both of you created art pieces that hung elegantly around the house in Belgravia, and anyone that came over was surprised to hear who the art was created by.