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Description
Everyone who knew of Sherlock knew of his mind palace.
Each day he spent hours combing the shelves of information and wandering through the rooms of his brain. Happily visualising a warm summer day in his palace, the room’s were filled with warm light and there was the quiet hum of a record slowly scratching out a tune for him. He would walk, not with purpose or haste, but just at a slow dawdle.
For here he was at home. But not where his heart was.
You would think the slightly sentimental Holmes brother would picture the old family mansion at the place where his heart was. It was not there. Maybe he had it stashed in 221b Baker Street where his real family lived. Sherlock’s heart wasn’t pictured in any place like that at all. In fact it wasn’t even indoors.
In the summer, when Sherlock had turned twenty one he had left for a holiday. He wanted a year away from his brother and family. This was before he had even meet John Watson. So the new responsible Sherlock ventured to Scotland. He rented a small cottage building on the edge of a small town. It had a school and a large community but it was petite compared to anything in London. It was surrounded by large spans of woodland and legends creeped at every corner of this place. Look hard enough and you’d find the fairies dancing on the moor under the light of a half moon.
Sherlock scoffed at the legends.
He had no time for beliefs or silly stories. He wanted peace.
The locals were happy to give it to him. They let him be, the strange man with big ideas hiding at the forests edge. Rumours spread easily.
But how does this relate to Sherlock’s heart place? What is with the story?
Well, there needed to be an explanation, otherwise the forest would seem very strange.
The small town bustled on Sunday mornings. The church rang with hollow bell tolls and the market vendors yelled their goods. People hurried for the best meat and produce in this little Scottish town.
Sherlock tucked his hands deep into his pockets. The coat shielded him from the early winter chill. People moved by him, around him and never gave a second glance. He liked that. He didn’t want recognition for nothing. He was hiding from his brother still.
His eyes would flit across the people in the street, the ones with children clad in wool, the ones gesturing wildly about the beast that hides in the fog. Each one knowing their place here.
All except two.
Another stood in the crowd, just like Sherlock, and just wandering. She noticed him immediately. With big blue- grey eyes that watched the world with focus, the orbs that still hadn’t noticed her in the crowd. His hands, lacking gloves, and struggling with the cold air, they hid in the pockets of his coat. His confident stance, casual smirk and strong steps made her curious. He was an outsider.
So was she, in a way. Working with the village school she had been sponsored for a gap-year here. It was her second month in Scotland.
Sherlock watch men bid over the farmer’s sheep and complaining about quality of mutton these days. Ponies carted vegetables and the only cars were kilometres away, by the cemented roads. There was no driving on Sundays.
Sherlock was in desperate need of bread and meat, that was what drove him to delve in society today. So he walked to the closest baker, her rolls and loafs all warm still from their recent rescue from the oven.
“Can I help you?” She drawled to the crowd examining her goods.
“How much is-“
“Can I have-“
Sherlock felt useless, there was no way he could talk loudly enough or manage to clamber through the crowd to talk to the baker. He growled and watched the other people smelling and poking the goods. Then he heard a ‘cooee’ in the crowd.
“Mrs Breydon!” a girl laughs. She was young and spirited and managed to gain the baker’s attention with ease. Sherlock watched with curiosity and not a small amount of surprise.
She’s not even Scottish! He thought. She has to be from (Your country).
“Lass!” The baker smiled using her droopy arms to beckon her over. “What can I do you for?”
“Three loaves and two muffins if you please?” She asks pulling out her purse from her back pack.
“No problem deerie.” She smiles, “You got company coming? That’s a lot of bread.”
Handing over the cash the girl shrugs, “I hope so.”
“Who’s the laddie?” She smiles. The thing about small towns is that gossip flies fast, it was a dangerous business,
“The new guy, from London.” She sighs, “I wanted to see what the whole rumour thing was about.”
The baker growls, “You be careful girl.”
“Yes Ma’am”
Sherlock watch the girl with curiosity. She was referring to him. The stranger from London. Now he was immensely curious. There were rumours about him too, something he’ll have to find out and dispel. Also, he needed to talk to the girl with the bread.
She shrugged her back pack back on, making sure not to catch her (h/c) hair on the zips. Walking back to the street edge she leant against the brick house and wandered her eyes across the crowd. Sherlock met her eyes.
With a grin she held up the brown bag or bread with a raised eyebrow. He cocked his head, slightly confused. She rolled her eyes and jerked her head indicating to follow.
Sherlock sighed.
He wasn’t planning on making friendships or getting to know anyone, but when he wanted to know something, there was no way to stop it.
He zigzagged out of the Sunday morning ruckus and walked over to the girl.
“Hello, you.”
“Hello.”
“I bought you bread.”
“I noticed.”
“Muffin?” She pulled one out of the bag. Sherlock didn’t know how to reply. He was never offered anything normally, “I bought two of them. Don’t make me eat both.” She threatened with a smile. Sherlock smiles and accepts the gift.
“Thank you.”
The girl retrieves her own muffin and begins walking. Sherlock watched for a second, debating if he should follow.
The girl pauses and searches for the man. He was back by the wall beginning to break off bite sized chunks and eat them. Savouring the sweet taste of apple and cinnamon.
“Coming?”
“Yes.” He smirked jogging to her side and accompanying her down the paved lane, lined with painted shops and delicious smells.
“Sherlock.” He states watching her bite into her own muffin.
“What?”
“My name is Sherlock.” He answers.
“I’m (y/n). It’s nice to finally meet you.” She says walking away from the road and towards the town’s edge.
“Finally?” Sherlock smirks, causing (y/n) to laugh.
“Finally, yes. I’ve seen you skulking around the library Sherlock. You never get any good books. It’s quite sad.” She explains heading towards the park.
“Good books? The library has no good literature at all!” He exclaims with frustration. He liked reading, but there was no way he was reading a book about vampire human werewolf love triangles.
“You just need to know where to look.” The girl says finding a nearby bench and settling on it. She places her bag and the bread to the side. Sherlock joins her. They look over the park. A small playground swarms with kids to their left and a half soccer pitch featured in front of them. They sat under an oak on a worn wood bench which marked the edge of thin forest and the start of the clearing. “If you see me there, I’ll show you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He smiles finishing off his muffin. The girl reaches the end of hers.
“They were the best muffins I’ve had in a long time.” Sherlock tells her, (y/n) smiles.
“When was the last time you had a muffin Sherlock?” She asks curiously leaning against the bench. He pauses and thinks.
“I don’t know.”
“Well I’m glad you got another.” She looks at him carefully.
“Where are you from? You don’t sound Scottish.” He asks looking at his companion.
“That’s coz I’m not. I’m from (country), the home of the best chips and gravy you can find.” She laughs. Sherlock was already getting used to this alien company. It was enjoyable.
“I beg to differ. If you are ever in London call me and I will find you the best chips you can eat.” He promises.
“Well I’m gonna need your number mister.” She smirks retrieving her phone and handing it to him. He frowns but enters it, “Ah, shit. Look I gotta run. Literally run. Any chance you could drop these at my flat? One of them is yours by the way.” She grabs her back pack and Sherlock stands.
“But I don’t know where you live (y/n.)” He snorts, the girl pauses for a second and grins.
“You’re a smart man Sherlock. Figure it out.” She jogs off heading straight to the school. Sherlock watched her leave with a small smile.
He was given a challenge, he intended to finish it.
First he collected the bread and adjusted his coat before setting off to speak with the baker.
***
The markets were slowly dying, there was little food left and only the stray customer bargaining over last minute items.
Sherlock thread a hand through his hair and walked swiftly to the portly baker who was rearranging her last pile of bread into the basket under the table.
“Ma’am?” He asked politely. She stood straight and regarded Sherlock with a half-hearted snarl. “Mrs Breydon isn’t it? Yes, I would like to ask some information of you if that would be possible.” He continues his polite smile which looked terribly forced.
“What do ya want?”
“I was asked to deliver these to (y/n)’s apartment but I don’t know her address.” He explains holding up the brown bag.
“Who told you to deliver ‘em?”
“She did.”
“But she didn’t give you ‘er address. That’s kinda sketchy young man.” The baker growls.
“Well yes, when you put it that way.” He murmurs. The baker snarls.
“You get outta here pommy, don’t go bothering the Lass you hear?” She picks up her spoon and waves it impatiently.
“Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am.” He says walking back towards the park fearing for his life. This was going to be a challenge.
This time he walked up the way she had run. Slowly examining the street for any connection he could make with the mysterious foreigner. It took him two hours before he finally went to explore the school.
The school, St Tristan’s, was in the north of the village and was the only place he could picture (y/n) rushing to. It was beside the library and quite a large building. That’s why he was quite confused to find that (y/n) was on the oval area beside the school’s administration building. With a smile he waited beside the gate until she had finished addressing the team of striped boys all rearing to play the game.
She held a whistle in her hands and wore a larger version of the uniforms the boys wore. Spiked football boots, knee high socks black shorts and a long striped t-shirt with ‘coach’ embroided in the centre. At the blow of her whistle the boys cheered and ran to meet the opposing team in red striped shirts instead of the blue (y/n)’s team wore.
Sherlock walked over, hands behind his back and small smile on his lips.
“Nice shorts.” He tells her.
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic but I can tell you I have the biggest freaking wedgie right now.” Sherlock laughs deeply and watches the blue team score the first goal of the game.
Both (y/n) and Sherlock cheer and clap.
“This normally isn’t my thing, but if I want to have an actual gap-year I have to work with the school.” She explains and Sherlock nods.
“That explains your accent.” He smirks.
“You’ve still got the bread, haven’t you?” She asks with a happy sigh.
“I asked around but I think people believe I’m a stalker or something.” Sherlock shrugs.
“Ah, well. You can come with me after the game and I’ll show you.” She looks at him, “If you want of course.” (y/n) adds quickly. She thought he was cute, definitely, but she didn’t want to scare him off.
“I’d like that.” He replies placing his hands in his pockets yet again.
“Sherlock?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to play soccer?”

***

“Well done boys!” She beams as they cheer together with their coach using their water bottles to spray water at each other and coach. They high-fived and cheered until (y/n) called out “Victory lap!” and they all started on a jog around the field, the team holding their trophy high in the air. The crowed of parents and older brothers cheered along with them, it was the school’s first champion win. Even the principal clapped them on.

They finished and (y/n) pulled out the treat she had purchased at the market’s that morning from her back pack. A whole jar of Marty’s homemade lollies for the boys to share. With a chorus of thanks they left to celebrate with their families leaving (y/n) soaked to the bone with a trophy in her hand. Sherlock shrugged out of his coat and placed it over her shoulders like a gentleman. She giggled a little and pulled it on closer.

“Thanks Sherlock.” She whispered looking up at his calm eyes.

“Congratulations.” He nods.

“I know. Who knew I was a great coach?” She jokes noticing the principle walking over.

“Must be the shorts.” Sherlock teases which made (y/n) roll her eyes.

“Congratulations.” A short grey-haired suit exclaims. “You did wonderfully with the team Miss. (l/n) I’ll have that trophy placed in the school’s display.” She hands him the trophy. “Do get somewhere warm, it looks as if it might snow.” She nods and grabs her backpack. Sherlock waited patiently with the bag of bread. She sighed turning back to the man.

“I’m gonna have to stock up on blankets.” She sighs slowly walking out of the muddy pitch and to the street, Sherlock by her side.

“Fire place?” He asks.

“No wood left.” She laughs, “I liked burning it all.” Sherlock smiles handing her the bag.

“Remind me to keep you away from matches.” His words were sarcastic and his face was solid but there was a hint of a smile that made (y/n) grin.

“I do believe Sherlock, that we are now friends.”

“Absurd.” He frowns playfully.

“You come here to, hang out on the edge of society and are all broody and yet you make a friend.” She sighs. “A bit poetic don’t you think?”

“Yes, the bread, the boy and the annoying girl.”

“Oi!” She huffs offended elbowing him in the ribs softly.

“I’m joking.” He smiles.

“Just remember I have your coat.” She challenges. Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to do?” There’s a cheeky glint in (y/n)’s eye as she runs off down the street with a laugh. She shrugs the coat on as she does so, pulling up the sleeves to free her hands. (y/n)’s shoes gave her distinct advantages but Sherlock was blessed with long legs and speed. He was catching up quick.

“Come on Sherly!” She yells darting down another road.

“Damn it (y/n)!”

She rounds the last corner with him on her heels. There was no escape so she let him grab her from behind. He stumbles a few steps still holding her in a bone crushing hug. (y/n) giggles, slightly out of breath as Sherlock pants in her ear.

“I’m rather fond of my coat.” He tells her, she smiles.

“I realized.” She swivels round in his arms and looks up at him, a blush on her cheeks, “I aint gonna run if you let me go.” She teases as he holds her close still.

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Sherlock’s cheek flush red as he stands back re-gripping the bread bag.

“Come on then Sherly.” She teases walking up to her door. Sherlock grumbles.

“It’s Sherlock.”

(y/n) chuckles.

***

They walk upstairs into the flat that belonged to the girl. Sherlock took it all in quietly. It was clean and basic, warm living room, TV, couch. A small kitchen and a dining table in the centre, a hall leading down to a bathroom and bedroom and a final door on the right he could not figure out.

“Tea?” She called from the kitchen as Sherlock returned to the living and walked in.

“Yes, please.” He accepted watching (y/n) comfortably bustle around the kitchen collecting mugs and tea for them both. Settling two mugs on the table she offered a dish of sugar and a jug of milk. Sherlock quietly made his and (y/n)’s.

“Two sugars?”

“How’d you guess?”

“It’s what I have.” He shrugs taking a sip. “Can I ask, what’s behind there?”

“I’ll show you one day. After all, we have all year.” The girl smiles. Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

“Bread for you.” He says placing the bag on the table.

“Thanks for taking it.” She accepts pulling out two and leaving the third in the bag for Sherlock.

“How much was it? I will pay you back.” He offers pulling out his wallet.

“No need, I wanted to meet you. So I bought you bread. Big deal.” She shrugs placing the bread in their box.

“Thankyou (Y/n)”

“Don’t mention it.” She replies placing the coat on the back of his chair before pointing to her bedroom. “I’m just gonna get changed, make yourself comfy.”

“Will do.” He replies watching her leave.

Then he sat there and calmly sipped his tea in silence. Then he smiled.

He had made a very interesting friend.

She was so… interesting. It was easy for Sherlock to deduce the life of a person within minutes, but with (y/n) it was harder. She was away from her real home, she was dealing by herself in this foreign land.

Just like him.

And she had opened up, and helped him, let him become her friend all in one day. It was… cool.

She was pretty in Sherlock’s eyes. He had seen her in detail as such, after the water drenching and yes she was very pretty. But there was that spark of humour and cheek that Sherlock was finding addictive. What was wrong with making a friend while he was here? Like she said they had a whole year.

I wonder if you know where this is heading. Fast friends become close and Sherlock’s heart belongs with the girl.

Well, no, that’s not right either.

But you might have guessed something right, Sherlock fell in love with the girl who bought him bread.

But how? Well it was always the little things.

When (y/n) went to the market Sunday morning Sherlock would always tag along. He met the sellers and the venders and the merchants and he could finally buy something from them. That very next Sunday after their initial meeting, Sherlock walked up to the baker and bought two muffins. Then, after the spoils of shopping, Sherlock and (y/n) would walk to the park and talk for hours.

They took it in turns, who would buy the muffins. And every week they made sure to try something new. Together.

(y/n) had an idea and Sherlock was not looking forward to it. But, he would go, and complain and smile for a bit, always tagging onto his friend. She would still blush when he smirked at her and last time she kissed his cheek before he left her house. It was so exciting for Sherlock.

He was not on edge or broody, never did he say he was bored. He was always out discovering things or solving riddles that (y/n) would make up out of the blue.

It drove him nuts when she bit her lip when she was nervous, just like the day she decided to go along with her idea.

“Ello lassie, what can I do ya for?” The butcher asked.

“We were wondering how you cook haggis.” She says and the second butcher (Obviously the other’s son, thought Sherlock) laughed.

“Oh, wee lass, you wouldn’t eat it.” He chuckled and his dad punched his arm.

“Shut it boy.” Then turning back to the unlikely pair he smiles, “I’ve got one you can try, already cooked ‘n everything.” The butcher walked out back to collect a slice and two forks.

The younger butcher was still smirking, He eyes (y/n) up and down. “You were the coach at the kids football game.”

“Observant.” Sherlock growled feeling protective of (y/n)

“You did look lovely in that wet shirt. It stuck to everything if you-“

“Stop talking.” Sherlock demands.

“What are you going to do huh? Pretty boy?” The kid asks trying to look intimidating.

“Oh put your junk away ass-hat. Sherlock we’re leaving.” He agrees biting the inside of his mouth and letting her leave first, making sure she was safe.

“Fucking asshole.” Sherlock mutters and (y/n) laughs.

“Aw, look at you all protective Sherlock” She teases with an appreciative blush on her cheeks.

“I-uh” He stammers rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks Sherlock, it’s nice to know you got my back.” She smiles holding his hand. Sherlock went bright red.

“So much for haggis.” He chokes out causing (y/n) to laugh.

“Come on Sherly, we’ll go out for dinner.”

“This way then.” He smirks turning her around and setting off at a fast paced jog.

“Why are we running?” She asks letting go of his hand to keep up.

“The woods are scary at night.” He replies ominously making her grin dangerously. Sherlock was only taking her to his house, he was sure there was a chicken he could cook up in there, but he was getting nervous as Hell. His heart was pounding and his cheeks were a constant pink.

“Sherlock, you ninny, wait up!” (y/n) laughs slowly stopping to catch her breath.

“You ruined my run!” He grumbled playfully grabbing her hand again, “Come on, we’re almost there.”

She smiles and walks beside him proudly.