π±ππππ π·πππππ {πΎπππππππ π³πππππ}
Sββ― β―hββ― β―eββ― β―rββ― β―lββ― β―oββ― β―cββ― β―kβ β― β―Hββ― β―oββ― β―lββ― β―mββ― β―eββ― β―sβ β― β―xβ β― β―Fββ― β―eββ― β―mββ― β―aββ― β―lββ― β―eβ β― β―Oββ― β―Cβ
Ivy Liu takes a slow drag of her cigarette, watching Sherlock with those sharp, unblinking eyes that seem to see too much. She steps closer, her voice low but piercing, as if each word is a scalpel cutting through the layers he's wrapped around himself.
"You wear your intellect like armor, Sherlock, but even the sharpest mind can't hide the fractures underneath. You think the world is a stage and you're the only actor that matters, but the truth is, we're all performing for someone, even when we're alone. You create this facade of apathy, of superiority, because it's easier than admitting that the void you feel isn't invincibility-it's emptiness. You can solve a thousand cases, but in the silence of your own mind, when no one's watching, you'll have to face the one puzzle you can't crack: yourself. And what terrifies you most isn't that no one understands you-it's that someday, someone might."
Her gaze lingers on him for a moment, reading his silence before turning away, her words settling like dust in the empty space between them.
DISCLAIMER!!!!!:
(I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE SHERLOCK CHARACTERS NOR THE BBC SHERLOCK CHARACTERS AND PLOT. I DO NOT OWN THE ARTWORK DISPLAYED IN THE COVER OF THE STORY. I ONLY OWN MY OC.)
