[fic] dreams and memories blurring into one

There’s a faint sound of music coming from Luna’s room and when Sherlock steps in unannounced, he finds her stood on a chair with a palette in hand.

The floor’s covered in white dust sheets, flecked with various colours of paint, the furniture moved across to the other end of the room, a small wind up radio on the floor playing some generic music station. On the walls, the work in progress of a giant mural. There’s various creatures, including a rather terrifying black, horse-like creature he doesn’t know the name of. There’s centaurs, unicorns and a huge majestic lion and a big black wolf.

But what draws his attention is the people.

“Hello, Sherlock.” She hasn’t even turned round, her eyes focused on the painted figure in front of her. She finishes a curl of dark-brown hair with a flourish.

He recognizes some of the people. There’s Ginny and (with narrowed eyes) Kenzie, a girl he recognizes as Hermione Granger, a boy with dark hair and glasses and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, a blonde man in rather extravagant looking clothes, a man in a suit with sharp blue eyes and glasses, a confused but faintly happy looking man, a girl with a bow…

And then he stops. John. She’s painted John.

And next to him, her current piece.

“You’ve painted me.” He points out with a slight frown.

“Oh, yes.” She says with a nod, turning her head to look. “What do you think?”

Sherlock pauses for a moment. The painting isn’t the best he’s seen and he’s not quite sure how he feels about someone painting him. But it’s Luna and he bites back criticism.

“Good.” He says finally, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile.

Luna will take that answer. She bows a little, smiling dreamily. “Thank you.”

“What’s the occasion for it?” he then asks, stepping close to inspect himself.

“Oh, no reason. I felt like painting my adventures, my friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes.” Luna nods. “You are my friend, Sherlock.”

Sherlock says nothing, his jaw moves a little in thought. Luna watches him carefully for a few moments. The silence is almost painful between them. But then Luna smiles and shakes her head before stepping down from her chair and handing him a paintbrush.

“You can help me if you like.” She tells him. “I think it would be even better that way.”

Sherlock seems thankful for the distraction, the end to the silence, and smiles a little more warmly. He takes the paintbrush with a nod and a small chuckle.