The Girl Without a Mark

Paint me like one of your consulting detectives

Ten minutes later, they are all exchanging gifts and when it was Yn's turn to give out gifts she seemed little startled.

"Oh, hold on," she said. "I forgot them downstairs. I'll be right back."

Yn darted downstairs and came back about five minutes later, struggling a little bit with trying to hold the three 15x20" and two 8x10" canvases that she had wrapped with different Christmas papers. John took the smaller ones from her hands and she gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you, John," she said and John simply nodded with a smile. She then turned her attention to the rest of the people in the room and got down to business.

"Molly, stand on the left side of the mantel, Lestrade, you're on the right. Mrs. Hudson if you'd stand by or sit on the couch that'd be lovely, John, sit in your chair, and that goes for you as well, Sherlock."

He grouched but Yn set the wrapped up canvasses down and forced him to his seat, practically shoving him to his seat with both hands on his lower back, glaring until he rolled his eyes with a sigh and sat down in his chair, arms resting on the sides. She then stood at the front of the room and clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.

"Alright, ladies and gents, and Sherlock"-the man in question glared-"now that I've got your attention, its time I give you your gifts." She handed Lestrade, Molly and Mrs. Hudson each one of the smaller canvasses, then gave the big 15x20" ones to john and Sherlock.

"On the count of three, y'all can open your gifts, and I really hope y'all enjoy them as I worked on them quite a bit. One, two, Three!"

The sound of tearing wrapping paper and a few gasps and small noises of awe and delight made me smile. Each one of them had gotten a portrait of either themselves, or something Yn knew they liked in acrylic paint.

Molly got a painting of her cat, Toby. Lestrade was given a head-shot portrait of himself and so was Mrs. Hudson. John received a painting in which he was shown to be interacting with a patient (made up one of course), and the kindness on his face was evident. And Sherlock?

Sherlock's gift was a painting of him looking out from the canvas, his eyes bright and alive, expression serious and captivating. I stood and simply smiled warmly as John, Molly, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson thanked me and complimented my skills. Sherlock, however was silent,his eyes on the painting.

Se was incredibly talented. The way she was able to capture the expression on his face, the light reflected in his eyes and hair, the vivid vibrancy that she showed with multiple layers of different shades of paint, the skillful use of dark colors to represent shadows without using a bunch of black paint or white for the highlights and lowlights. She actually took his breath away with her skill.

"Sherlock?" She questioned.

"Yes?" He looked up, blank faced as he processed the amount of detail and time it must have taken her to get that much accuracy. She had painted them to near perfection. And what amazed him was how many years, she must have been doing it.

"What do you think of it?" she asked.

He was silent as he thought of the best way to explain how he felt about it without giving away too much detail. He took so long that he noticed her playing with her fingernail, a nervous habit that he'd noticed she had.

"You have extraordinary talent," he said at last. "And this was well done."

"Thank you, I really hope it pleases your fancy," She replied, beaming, releive evident in the way her shoulders relaxed. It told him how much she valued his opinion, and normally, he would scoff at it, but considering how skillful and beautiful the paintings were, he had only respect.

"I'll hang it up somewhere, in the living room, I think."

"I've got frames and such for everyone just in case. But I'll give them to you when y'all start heading to bed," Yn told them. "But I'm so glad you all enjoyed them. I've never painted so many in such a short time."

She laughed, and in his mind, he basked in the sound.

"But you managed it, and they're beautiful, dearie," Mrs. Hudson said to Yn kindly, who could only smile in response.

Christmas wasn't completely useless and annoying that year, he supposed.