Blind Boredom

Photography

"Johnny boy," Jim started without looking away from Viviana's sunglassed eyes. "Won't you come in? There is much to talk about now that we're all here."

However, despite Jim's slightly indirect command, John stood still in the doorway, knuckles white and teeth gritting.

John broke the awkward silence that had fallen in the past few seconds. "Why are you here?"

"I decided to drop by after what happened to the older of the two Holmes brothers. Oh, my sympathies by the way." Jim smiled at Viviana and Sherlock tightened his grip on her waist in the slightest.

"Did you really think that killing my brother would do anything to me?" Sherlock asked rather rudely.

Jim broke the one-way eye contact with Viviana to roll his eyes at Sherlock. "No. Not to you at least." He smiled deviously. "But to the world? To the people around you? Yes. That was the plan. You were not even in the picture when the photograph was taken. Oh no. Your brother was the flint and steel of the whole British Government and without him...well, I'll let you hold the camera now, Mr. Holmes, the final Mr. Holmes." Jim smirks and turns to leave, "Oh! Spoilers! Daddy Holmes is gone too, if you didn't catch on." he continued, but stopped in the doorway in front of John, who steps aside immediately with a placid look on his face. "I hope to see you all soon!" He called up the stairs with a sure sound to his sing-song voice then the door of 221B Baker Street slammed shut and the three left were silent as the grave.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"Your own brother is dead and you don't even care?!" John shouted from the sitting room, but it reverberated throughout the entire building.

Viviana hugged her knees to her chest and tried to block out the noise by covering her ears. She had always hated fighting, especially after what happened to her at the orphanage before she was blind. She could hear everything being yelled from where she sat in the confines of Sherlock's room, the bedroom she had taken a liking to after her first rest there.

"I do care. My way of caring is completely better than that stupid little crying thing you ignorant people do." Sherlock waved John's comment away and looked to his right at the wall with the faded, holey, yellow smiley face.

John scoffed, "Everyone deserves some tears to be shed when they die."

"And those tears won't be coming from me." Sherlock looked back to John. "Why do you people do that? Why do you cry when someone dies?" Sherlock scrunched his face up in confusion.

"I guess it's because someone you love isn't around anymore so you cry because you miss them? I dunno!" John threw his arms up in the air above him and shook his head.

"But you're not crying. You don't care. So who will cry for the poor old corpse of my brother?" Sherlock snapped harshly.

"Go ask the woman in your bedroom." John narrowed his eyes and pushed past Sherlock on his way out of the flat.

Sherlock stood there in stunned silence for a few minutes. He decided to go see what Viviana was doing, so he trooped to his bedroom, a few long strides away.

He opened the door slowly and found Viviana in her huddled position on the bed.

"Is the yelling over?" She whispered, warily taking her hands from her ears.

"For now." Sherlock said manifestly and sat down on the bed next to her.

"Good. I thought the incessant yelling would drive me to-" She stopped short of her thought and allowed her feet to drop to the floor.

Sherlock nodded at the unfinished thought and half smiled, wondering if he ever did that and realized how often he does, in fact, cut off his own sentences.

After a few seconds of suspended silence, Viviana shifted so she was facing Sherlock."Umm...this might sound weird but...I don't know what you look like and I obviously can't see with my eyes, I can-oh this is rubbish. I sound crazy, don't I?" She turned away, then felt Sherlock take her wrists gently and placed her hands on his face.

"Be gentle," He muttered. "please."

Viviana took a deep breath and felt away.

His thin, hawk-like nose is what she felt first. It gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination. The sharpness of his cheekbones nearly made her delicate fingers stray away from them, for she, figuratively of course, thought she might cut herself. She felt his eyes the most gently, because she did not want to hurt the thing she had lost because of another's foolishness. His eyes, though closed, seemed tired and calculating due to the slight jitter they gave at her first touch. She played with a strand of his tightly woven curls and muttered in her mind, 'His hair must be very dark due to the heat that is radiating from his head.' Her fingers trailed down to his lips and stopped there. She drew back her hands and folded them in her lap. She jumped slightly when she felt Sherlock's hands gently cup her face.

"You forgot something." He whispered.

She felt his hot breath on her face and she shivered. "I didn't-" But she was cut off by the soft closure of Sherlock's lips on her's.

They parted, even if it was only a few centimeters away, Viviana could almost feel Sherlock smirk.