The Fall of Miss Holmes (BBC Sherlock FanFic)

Chapter Seven

I heard John come back and begin putting the shopping away and went to see him as I was now done with my painting.

"Alice? I thought you were at school? What the bloody hell has happened to your face?!" John said when he saw me, looking furious.

"Nothing! It's fine really." I persisted. Sherlock threw me a dubious look but said nothing.

"Come here, let me look." John said. For the third time I tilted my head this way and that while he examined the damage to my face. "It doesn't look too bad." He muttered. "Well, it does look pretty bad but you'll be fine. What happened?"

"Got into a fight, got beat up." I said shortly.

He frowned at me but just nodded, probably knowing I wasn't bothered for talking about it.

We put away the shopping, finishing within minutes and went into the living room. I noticed Sherlock wasn't sat at the table as he had been literally a second ago and narrowed my eyes. "Where's he gone?" I asked John, who shrugged.

"Alice." Sherlock's voice came from my room. Oops.

I grimaced and went in. He was stood staring at my wall looking...actually quite impressed. He didn't seem too angry which was good.

"Did you do this?"

I rolled my eyes. "No it painted itself."

He scowled at me.

"Yes of course I did it. Why did you come in my room anyway?"

"I could smell the paint and saw the splashes on your arm." He shrugged. "What is it?" He asked, referring to my painting.

I looked. I wasn't very sure to be honest. It wasn't really anything, just a lot of colours in different patterns. It looked good though, if I did say so myself. "Uh, I don't know."

He looked at me confused. "But you painted it?"

"It can be anything I suppose. I wasn't really concentrating on what it was when I did it." I said, shrugging.

He didn't seem happy with my answer but that was probably because it wasn't definite. Sherlock liked things to be absolute and logical. Painting wasn't really either of those things but I enjoyed doing it. Another thing Sherlock didn't understand.

"John, can I plan to invite people over?" I asked that night while we were all sat silently. John was reading with Sherlock's head in his lap. The rest of Sherlock was laid across the sofa. He said he was thinking, as he always was. I'd been watching television but my mind kept wandering.

"What do you mean?" John said looking up from his book.

"Like can I invite people over for food? That I'll make? Sometime soon?"

"Sure if you want to." John said smiling. "That'll be nice."

"No." Sherlock's voice drawled. I glared at him.

"Why not?"

"People." He said simply.

"You see people every day. Besides I'm not going to invite strangers, am I? I was thinking Molly, Greg, Mycroft if he'll come, and Mrs Hudson. Maybe Grandma and Grandpa?" I shrugged.

"Definitely not." Sherlock said.

"You know you haven't seen them in over a month, Sherlock." I said accusingly.

"Yes, I am fully aware thank you." He said.

"Come on, Sherlock. Don't be a baby." John said, running a hand through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock glared at him but gave up easily.