Human Error - Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter forty two - promises

All winter long the garden was bare. The rain came and the sunshine too, but without the gentle spring heat nothing grew, not even the weeds. Though the calendar says it is winter for a few weeks yet, the trees tell me it is spring. A warmness fills me up as I look out onto the garden, sparks of colour finally seeping through. Take the apple tree for instance, a couple of weeks back it was a wiry tangle of last seasons growth, a mess of unruly twigs and over-long branches. But now I could see the chestnut colour was coming back to life, and the green leaves were starting to grow. It hasn't bloomed fully, but I'm not worried. Spring has only just begun after all.

I turn my attention away from the window, knowing that I came to Sherlock's house to study, not gape at his mother's proud apple tree. I notice that Sherlock is staring, and when I meet his eyes he quickly turns away.

"What is it this time?" I exhale slowly, crossing my legs and shifting into a comfortable position on his soft bed sheets.

"We have our exams coming up, and you're gawking out the window like a sad widow."

"All right, no need to get sassy." I huff, looking down at my book. "I'm already set on Pi."

"Enlighten me then," He quizzed, raising his brows.

"Pi is a mathematical constant. Originally defined as the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter, it now has various equivalent definitions and appears in many formulas in all areas of mathematics and physics. In short term, Pi is 3.14. But it is consistent."

He doesn't even look impressed. "Elementary, isn't it? We're going to past this with flying colours."

"What are you reading anyway?" I inquire, leaning towards him to see what book was in his hands.

"Information theory and signal processing," He answered for me, showing me the book, "thought it would be useful."

"Yeah, maybe," I mumbled, letting out a deep sigh of boredom. Sherlock managed to find an interesting book, whereas I'm reading the same old stuff I'm taught in class every day. I lie down on his bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a break," I answered, and he just ignored me and continued to read through his textbook carefully. I stared up at his white, smooth ceiling, repeating back every subject in mathematics that could possibly come up in our exam. Algebra, geometry, number theory, probability...

As I do so, I shift my head around on his pillow, trying to get cozy. Sherlock had always had comfortable pillows, thick cozy blankets -- his parents wanted nothing but the best for him. But for some reason, his pillow felt oddly stiff. In annoyance, I grab his pillow to fluff it up a little, but a little black book catches my attention.

"Whats this?" I pick it up curiously, wondering why it was hidden under his pillow. Sherlock seemed frustrated to have to tear his eyes away from his book, but it suddenly becomes clear that he wasn't happy at all when he notices why. His face drops completely, and his eyes are full of dread.

"No! Eleanor, no! It's personal!" Sherlock panicked, reaching forward to try and snatch the book from my hands. I resisted, pushing him away and moving to sit on my knees, flicking open the book.

"What, have you documented a murder?" I joke, shaking my head softly and moving Sherlock away as he tries to reach out for the book.

"No, just, please--" He stopped as soon as he saw me scim my eyes through his written words. He stepped back and ran a hand through his dark, curly locks whilst I read the first page: