John sat at the kitchen table, reading his morning newspaper and sipping his tea. There were bags under his eyes, suggesting that he did not get much sleep the previous night, if any at all. And he was exhausted. He would not be out of bed at all if Mrs. Hudson had not come up eariler to see if everything was alright, and if Vanessa was okay. She had arrived with a tray, and although John had told her they were fine and she didn't need to, she had pushed her way inside the small flat to talk about it.
"It's just so terrible, what that awful boy did. And poor Vanessa's such a sweet girl, too."
John had grunted in acknowledgement.
"And what about Sherlock? Surely he at least knew something about it?"
"If he did he certainly didn't tell me anything."
"Well, don't get too upset about it, John. Sometimes parents do what they think is best, even if they don't agree."
"Mrs. Hudson, it's fine. It really is."
She'd left a short while later, after John had done everything he could to politely tell her that he wanted to be left alone.
Now, John read the paper half-mindedly. He would like to go back to sleep, but if Vanessa woke up, she might want to talk about it. And if Sherlock decided to finally come home, he wanted to be the first to tell him how insensitive it was to leave in the middle of a family crisis. So he continued to flip through the paper. Then he read something that made him spit his tea out. He slowly set it down and rubbed his eyes.
"Jesus Christ."
"Dad?" Vanessa stood in the doorway, still wearing the dress she'd had on from her date the previous night. Her dark hair was a mess, her make up in tear-streaks down her cheeks, and the left side of her face was showing the evidence of being bashed around.
"Oh, good morning, Nessy." He turned to her.
"Where is Father?" She looked around the room.
"Uh-" John quickly folded up the newspaper and tossed it aside, then ushered her to the table. "He hasn't gotten back yet. Why don't you have some tea?"
She nodded. "What's in the newspaper?" She asked after some time.
"Nothing. Well, nothing important anyway."
Vanessa huffed. "If it wasn't important you wouldn't have hidden it." She looked like she was done, but then she continued. "So let's see... You wouldn't have hidden it in the first place if you weren't trying to protect me. And considering what happened last night with Jake, it isn't hard to guess what you're trying to protect me from."
John listened with a tired grin as she worked it through her mind. "Well, it isn't hard to guess where you got your deductive skills from, is it?"
"It's all really obvious, though." Vanessa laughed a little.
"Absolutely elementary." There was a voice from the doorway. Sherlock was standing there, taking off his gloves.
"Father, you're home." She said, a bit nervous as she looked his slightly tattered coat up and down.
"About time, too. Where have you been all night?" John stood up and finished clearing the remnants of breakfast off the table.
"I just had some business to attend to. Nothing big. And they needed me down at the morgue this morning." While John wasn't looking Sherlock snatched the newspaper and handed it to Vanessa. "Brilliant deducing by the way, my dear." He winked at her.
Vanessa smiled and opened it up. Her eyes dashed accross the page and got wider as they went. When she was done, she asked. "I suppose that explains Dad's behavior."
"What?" John turned and saw she had read it. "Sherlock! I didn't want her-"
"Oh, why not? I thought it might make her feel better."
"It's fine, Dad." Vanessa rolled up the paper and set it down. She stood up and excused herself. But before she turned the corner she asked. "How many times did he fall out the window, exactly?"
Sherlock laughed, and watched as John shook his head, disapprovingly. He turned back to her.
"It was a bit of a blur. I'm afraid I lost count."
