Rosie Watson's Book of Lonely People
AU Series 3/AU TAB: There was no Moriarty video at the end of S3. Instead, Sherlock went away. For 10 years. Rosie Watson grows and thrives and her parents couldn't be prouder of her. When Rosie starts making portraits of the homeless people she visits volunteering with Auntie Molly in Angelo's Kitchen, John recognizes one of them as his best man. What does Mary know about it? Will Rosie save her strange friend before something terrible happens to him?
Sadness paves the streets that Rosie walks down every day at 3 bells to join schoolmates in the aftercare park. She waits on this street corner for her Daddy to get done at his doctor's practice. There she paints her portraits in the chalk lines of schoolyard exile.
Every day at 3 bells, Rosie watches as her muses come shuffling down the street. Auntie Molly has taught her about all the lonely people. They all have names and faces. Each and every one has a beautiful story. They all deserve a 'hello'.
This afternoon, Rosie is bored. It's taking her Dad too long to get done with work. Mum hasn't come to pick her up instead. And her aftercare teacher is tied up on the phone with that bloke she calls a boyfriend, though he knows 12 other ladies.
"Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried -with her name-lada!" Rosie had forgotten the words. Sometimes she sang for coins. She would always give them to Old Mrs. Anna at the edge of her playground. Today she had forgotten the words. She was half beside herself trying to remember them, when someone, like a bolt out of the blue, decided to help her:
"-Nobody came! Father Mackenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he comes from the grave-No one was saved!" A deep baritone echoed down the street corner, cracked by smoke and thirst. Rosie's head popped up. She giggled. Anna clapped, never have expected a duet for her afternoon charity.
"All the lonely people, where did you just come from?" Rosie sang, holding her hands out to the man. So well put together with his dark coat and blazing eyes is he. She thinks that he's one of the school's new teachers.
"All the lonely people, dear, to whom do you belong?" The man sang stepping closer and kneeling in front of her. Anna laughed. Rosie thinks suddenly that this dark-haired man with the soft silver around his ears is somewhat familiar from a photograph or something.
"Hello! And you're good, mister!" Rosie clapped. He smiled.
"Start again, girl, you've got quite the crowd stirred up." He stands up, nodding to a gathering of the passerby who is rather intrigued by this unlikely pair. The man reaches under his coat flap and produces a violin case. Rosie claps.
"What fun! So much lunch for Mrs. Anna today!" Rosie slid her chalk box closer and stood up on it. The man put the bow to strings and waited for Rosie. She shook her head, wondering where on earth he'd come from.
"Ah! Smile for all the lonely people!" Rosie sang from her heart. The man played from his soul.
Finally, the song faded into silence.
"Mister! Bravo, sir! Bravo. Are you with the new school choir?" Rosie leaped from the chalk case, applauding loudly. Coins had overfilled the paper cup she'd set by the slide. The man smiled, mustached lip turning upward like a kitten's smirk.
"No...I'm just like Anna." Sherlock smiled at the old woman. Rosie grew quiet.
"Oh! Oh, then you should take some of the coins, then, mister?"
"Call me Sherlock." He winked. She covered her mouth.
"My daddy...My daddy had a friend named Sherlock once. A long time ago. He used to talk about him, but he never said where he went." Rosie smiled.
"I remember your Dad. Did you know that you have his eyes?" Sherlock knelt in front of Rosie for a moment longer, smiling so sweetly and sadly that Rosie felt the music in her heart weep for him somehow.
"Well, where did you go then?" Rosie came closer to the lonely man. Sherlock looked up then.
"Here comes your Mum, love. You should go home now." Sherlock smiled kindly at the child. She wondered for a moment what he was like. Why, if he was Daddy's friend, could he not come over for tea?
"Sherlock! You're a fine singer. Truly wizard, mister. Please do come by for tea one afternoon, will you?" Rosie folded her hands prayerfully.
"Rosie! Come here!" Mary's voice was harsh. Sherlock stood up, gathering his violin into his case.
"Off you go. Ah, Anna. These are for you, I believe." Sherlock gathered the coins and took them to the aging woman.
"Rosie, who was that?" Mary peered over the steering wheel, face drawn and cross as Rosie flopped into the car, chalk box, drawing book and school bag all in tow.
"Dad's old friend. Sherlock! I'd never met him. He helped me get coins for Mrs. Anna. Say, can he come for tea?" Rosie smiled. Mary sighed.
"Rosamund, dear...Uncle Sherlock died. He was shot a long time ago. That bloke's just a nutter lives on the streets around here. I told you to stay close to your teachers…"Mary shook her head.
Sherlock was standing staring after the car. Rosie swallowed, Mary's words had stung her, but she couldn't quite yet believe them. She waved gregariously in the lonely man's direction.
He waved back, seeming so lost. That was the day that Rosamund Watson vowed that strange man, nutter bloke or not, would be her friend. This is where our story begins.