Sentiment {Sherlock BBC}

61. "Faith."

Because of the small little plot extension I am adding with Liz, this chapter is extremely long and from Sherlock's POV. Enjoy! :)

_____________________________________________________________

Sherlock's POV

"Three years ago..." Faith began. I sat there, folding and unfolding the paper in my hands. "My father told me he wanted to kill someone. One word, Mr. Holmes..." I looked at the back of the paper, then noticed my hands were trembling. Lovely. "And it changed my world forever. Just one word." She said.
"What word?" I asked setting the paper down and lifting my phone.
"A name."
"What name?"
"I can't remember." She said sitting in the "client chair" before me. "I can't remember who my father wanted to kill... I don't know if he ever did it."
"Well, you've changed. You no longer top up your tan and your roots are showing. Letting yourself go?" I asked looking at a picture of her and her father.
"Do you ever look in the mirror and want to see someone else?" she asked. I thought about Liz. I quickly shook my head.

Get out of my head.
"No. Do you own an American car?" I asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"No, not American; left-hand drive, that's what I mean."
"No. Why-why do you ask?" she asked me. I blinked and looked at her. Where was I going with this?
"Not sure, actually. Probably just noticed something." I said. That's all I saw was something. There was dirt on her skirt... I looked back down at my shaking hand noticing my engagement band, and rolled my hand into a fist, re-stretching my fingers.

"Are you okay?" Liz... I mean Faith, asked.
"Oh, of course you don't own a car. You don't need one, do you, living in isolation, no human contact, no visitors." I said noticing my hand was out still in front of me.
"Okay, how do you know that?"
"It's all here, isn't it? Look." I said holding up the paper. I stood up and showed her the paper. "Cost-cutting's clearly a priority for you. Look at the size of your kitchen: teeny-tiny. Must be a bit annoying when you're such a keen cook."
"I don't understand." She said.
"Hang on a minute." I began and looked out the window. "I was looking out of the window. Why was I doing that?" I asked her as I looked out to see the rain falling in sheets.
"I don't know!"
"Me either. Must have had a reason. It'll come back to me." I said walking back across the room folding the paper in half. "Presumably you downsized when you... when you left your job... and maybe when you ended your relationship." I said slumping back down into my chair.
"You can't know that." She said.
"'Course I can. There wasn't anything physical going on, was there?" I asked her folding the paper in front of my eye.

Talk about nothing physical... Liz... Get Out!

"Quite some time, in fact." I added slowly. "There, see? It's obvious." I said flaunting the paper about.
"You can't tell things like that from a piece of paper." She whined.
"Think I just did, didn't I?" I asked, then nodded. "I'm sure that was me." I said, then sniffed.
"How?" she asked.
"Dunno. Just sort of... happens, really. It's... like a reflex. I can't stop it." I shrugged and looked over at Faith, then back to the paper but quickly returned my gaze to the shoulder of her dress, it was wet. I stood up and waved my hands in front of her. She flinched and backed up as I touched her shoulder.
"Coat." I said turning to walk over to the fireplace.
"I don't have a coat." She said.
"Yeah, that's what I just noticed. I wonder why?" I asked as I walked toward the kitchen. Wiggins opened the door slightly and peeked at me through the sliding door.
"Who you talkin' to?" he asked me. I rolled my eyes.
"Piss off." I snapped and pushed the door shut.
"So what do you think?" Faith asked me.
"Of what?"
"My case." She said.
"Oh, it's way too weird for me. Go to the police; they're really excellent at dealing with this complicated sort of stuff. Tell them I sent you; that ought to get a reaction. Night-night." I said grabbing her hand bag off John's chair. I threw it at her and noticed it was about 1619 grams then my mind took it back to 0. Faith caught it, then began walking back to the door.
"Please. I have no-one else to turn to." Faith said.
"Yes, but I'm very busy at the moment. I have to drink a cup of tea." I said as I walked into the kitchen and picked up a cup of two syringes.
"Is "cup of tea" code?" Wiggins asked me and I rolled my eyes.
"It's a cup of tea." I said.
"Because you might prefer some... "coffee."" Wiggins said. I eyed him as I noticed Faith was still in the living room.
"You're my last hope." I heard Faith continue.
"Really? That's bad luck, isn't it? Goodnight. Go away." I pushed.
"What's bad luck?" Wiggins asked me.
"Stop talking. It makes me aware of your existence." I snapped.
"I always 'ave bad luck. It's congenital."
"Handbag." I said.
"That's not rude. Congenital: it just means..." Wiggins went on to speak when I slid out of the doors "Handbag!" I repeated. I ran down the stairs after Faith.
"Stop. Wait!" I said to her. She turned to see me and I stopped once I reached the bottom of the stairs. My head was feeling quite heavy. "Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it, do you hear me? Off it. Off it." I said.
"Sorry? What? What are you talking about?" She asked.
"Your skirt." I said.
"My skirt?" She asked.
"Look at the hem of it! That's what I noticed. I'm..." I stopped for a second rubbing my eyes. "Still catching up with my brain. It's terribly fast." I sighed. "Those markings. Do you see them? You only get marks like that by trapping the hem of your skirt in a car door but they're on the left-hand side, so you weren't driving; you were in the passenger seat." I said.
"I came in a taxi." She said.
"There is no taxi waiting in the street outside. That's what I checked when I went to the window. And you've got all the way to the door and not made any move to phone for one, and look at you. You didn't even bring a coat – in this rain? Now, well, that might mean nothing, except for the angle of the scars on your left forearm; you know, under that sleeve that you keep pulling down."
"Y-you never saw them." She said.
"No, I didn't, so thank you for confirming my hypothesis. Don't really need to check that the angle's consistent with self-harm, do I?" I added questioning her. I reached out to her and she drew back,
"No." she said.
"Then you can keep your scars. I want to see your handbag." I added.
"Why?" She asked.
"It's too heavy. You said I was your last hope and now you're going out into the night with no plan on how you're getting home... and a gun." I added. She lowered her head.
"Chips." I said.
"Chips?" She asked me. I grabbed a coat and handed it to her.
"You're suicidal. You're allowed chips, trust me. It's about the only perk." I sighed. I grabbed my coat and sighed.
"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked me. "Are you going out?"
"I think I remember the way. It's through there, isn't it?" I asked her.
"Oh, you're in no state. Look at you." She said to me.
"Yeah, well, I've got a friend with me, so..."
"What friend?" she asked me.
"Bye!" I said closing the door behind me. I looked up and noticed the pouring rain. "Come on." I said.