Chapter 14: Brilliant and Broken

"…a truly brilliant mind, but it was brilliant like a fractured mirror, all marvellous facets and rainbows but, ultimately, also something that was broken." ~Terry Pratchett, The Hogfather, pg 29.

"I'm off to the airport." Her tone left an entire world of questions hanging in the air.

Sherlock kept his head down, stubbornly staring at the papers on his desk. His only response was the slightest of nods and a particularly vicious scratch of his pen across the page.

"That's it?" She asked, furious tremors contorting her lips. "Honestly, I don't know why I expected anything different from you. I thought you understood what an opportunity this was for me. The last two days, though, you've either been distant or horrible. I know you're upset that I'm leaving but I would think you could be a little more mature about this." Cecilia sighed, realizing she had made a mistake, anger flared in the pit of her stomach. "You are arrogant and manipulative and I was stupid… and I … and…don't you care? Did you ever care?" Tears began to slowly slide down her face. "No. Of course you didn't. You're the Great Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective and that's it. You will never be anything more because you are obsessed with yourself and you can't make room for anyone else." She walked out the door and paused throwing a last look to the brilliant man with the devastating cheekbones and shook her head. She added to herself because it was too painful to say aloud "And I despise myself for still wanting you."

Sherlock heard the door close and sat in the ringing silence of her words; the truth of them was distracting. He looked down at what he had been writing. A few words had become damp and blurry; these blue ink swirls were the only evidence of his pain. They were the proof that all he wanted to do was protect her. He took a few deep breaths to settle himself. Sherlock carefully, almost reverently, picked up the page and walked to the fireplace. He dangled the page before the flames and let the edges of the sheet catch before dropping it. He stood at the mantle for a long time that night; eyes locked on the dancing flames and Moriarty's seething voice echoing in his ears, taunting him. "I'll burn the heart out of you, Sherlock."