AN: Welcome back to another tale in the Etheldrea Holmes series! The Blessed Unrest is going to be a songfic based on the album of the same name by Sara Bareilles, and I cannot tell you how excited I have been to do this! I highly suggest you open up another tab and search the songs as each chapter is posted. I'm listening to each song on repeat as I write the chapters, and it's just amazing!

As usual, I don't own Sherlock or it's characters aside from my own. Etheldrea Holmes' face model is model Emily Rudd however that will be changing by the end of the story as Etheldrea grows older. Also on the cover you see a man by the name of Anton Yelchin, who plays Chevok from Startrek. If anyone can correctly guess who he will be playing, you win! Here's a hint, I mentioned his character in a chapter two stories ago. So, without further ado, The Blessed Unrest.

I miss the days my mind would just rest quiet

My imagination hadn't turned on me yet

I used to let my words wax poetic

But it melted a puddle at my feet now

It is a calcifying crime, it's tragic

I've turned to petrified past life baggage

I want to disappear and just start over

So here we are

And I'll breathe again...

If there was one thing Etheldrea Holmes knew, it was that one minute, even one second can change everything. The differences can change the future and an either give or take life. However, she did not care what that meant for her.

Four months ago her father, the world's only consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, jumped off St Bart's hospital. According to the papers, he couldn't cope with the "truth" of him being a fraud. She knew that wasn't case, wouldn't believe it. He had been as real as she was, and she owed it to him to clear his name.

The first month had been the hardest, but she wasn't alone. John Watson was her guardian now. He took her in when her dad died, saying that even if Sherlock hadn't made him promise, he would have done it anyway. There was no way in the entire world that he and she would be separated, they needed each other the most.

Before the school year started, John and Etheldrea moved out of 221 B Baker Street for a fresh start. It had been surprisingly easy convincing Etheldrea, but she was just like him, plagued by memories. Mrs. Hudson had been sad to see them go, but she understood and Etheldrea promised to visit now and then.

Abigail Grey, Etheldrea's best friend, was there to help too. Every week during the summer, the girls got together and talked, and sometimes they went back to Baker Street for tea with Mrs. Hudson. The landlady of 221 Baker Street was always eager to see Etheldrea. Although, the visits were shortened to only the weekends when school started up again.

Eventually, things got better for her. The sadness didn't fade, but it didn't consume her anymore, and the same was going for John. They both felt better after the move, and were starting to get on with their lives although it was much less exciting. John got a job at a hospital, and he finished in the afternoon so he was always there to pick Etheldrea up from school.

School wasn't too bad. Everyone was nearly an adult now, and so while there may have been whispers and stares, no one came up to Etheldrea or bullied her the way they would have years ago. She didn't have friends there, and Abigail didn't go to her school anymore. But she was left alone, and she much preferred it that way.

Life was better for them, and was seemingly going at a domestic pace. It bore Etheldrea to no end, and she needed something to occupy herself or she felt she would explode. When she wasn't with her friend, school, or Mrs. Hudson, she was digging around in places she shouldn't. Over the past three months she had been attempting to follow leads to a criminal organization that stretched all around the world. The network had been led by Moriarty, one of the most evil men she had ever met. He had been the one behind the faulty news headlines, framing her father for kidnaping two children, and when her dad died, he just disappeared.

She would spend hours investigating houses, people, and pouring over every bit of information she could get. John was close to finding out a few times but she was sneaky, and continued her information hunt. She hadn't been getting far but by November, she found one of Moriarty's employees. It was a small victory, and she had hoped to already know about three more employees, but she put it down to limited resources and time. If John or, gods forbid he never know, Uncle Mycroft, she would never do her work.

Alistair Walker was a freelance hit man who worked for Moriarty. After some convincing and a lot of money, she had bribed a few people who were once part of the Homeless Network. After her dad died, the Network disbanded but a little bit of hunting and she found a few of them. They tracked down the information she needed, which kept Mycroft from wondering where she was or what she was doing, and then she found her man.

She kept watch on him, tracking nearly every move he made. After a few weeks, she was able to predict his next move and it conveniently landed on her birthday. She made the plans, told John she was going for a trip, and then started putting together a file.

It would be a path of self-destruction.

I Believe in Sherlock Holmes. I Fight John Watson's War. I Stand with The Detective's Daughter. Moriarty was Real.

These messages and similar ones decorated alleyways, posts, windows, and many other places much like Missing Persons signs. By St Bart's hospital, a red telephone booth was covered with messages of support and hope. Every week Etheldrea collected and put them a keepsake box. If anyone ever noticed the young woman with silvery blue eyes and shoulder length dark hair, they never said a word. She kept them under her bed and would look at them when she needed reassurance. It was nice to know that there were more than just a handful of people who knew the truth. And that's why she had to do this.

So in the early morning of her eighteenth birthday, a day where her Uncle Mycroft agreed to suspend all his security measures on her, she packed a backpack and kept the file hidden in her messenger bag. She donned a knee length black trench coat and a purple scarf, looking like an echo of the father she would avenge. After saying goodbye to John, she took a cab to Scotland Yard.

Inside she met an officer who stopped her as she tried to go to Lestrade's office.

"Not without an appointment Miss Holmes." He told her.

"Then may I request a job application?"

"Give me a minute. Stay here."

She waited until he disappeared around a corner, rolled her eyes, and then continued to Lestrade's office. This was her first time back since she learned what had happened. Everyone had stared at her as she walked out, and the same was happening again only this time they were trying to hide it.

The door to Lestrade's office was open and she walked in. He glanced up and a smile formed on his face when he saw her. She took a seat and pulled out the file and held it in her hands.

"Etheldrea!" Lestrade exclaimed, "I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you? John?"

"Fine. We're both fine. I'm afraid I didn't come for a social visit though."

"Oh? What's up? Wait a minute, your eighteen today! You've come for a job, haven't you?"

"Actually, that was the last thought in my mind." She handed him the file, "This is Alistair Walker. He's a hit man, and he was once employed by Moriarty. I want your help in going after him."

"Ethel, I told you-"

"I know but I didn't listen. Stubborn, remember? Please Lestrade, this is the only way-"

"No. No, I'm sorry, but this isn't right. You can't be hung up on this. You need to move on."

"I can't! He was fighting this, fighting Moriarty, and now he's gone who knows where, but his network can slowing be uncovered. I can unravel it, I know I can. You need to trust me!"

"You're too young, a little girl like you shouldn't looking at this kind of stuff. "

"Then I'm too young to join the Yard, I shouldn't work here. That was ten years ago, Inspector. I'm not eight anymore, I'm not a kid. You and I both know I've never really been a kid."

"No, we don't. You've always seen yourself as grown up, haven't you?"

She stared silently, and he sighed.

"I do remember you being a little girl. I remember when you were nine, almost ten, when you were almost-"

Etheldrea hung her head and said quietly, "We never mention that."

"I know. But you were so scared and confused during that who ordeal. And when I looked over you, the only thing that kept you distracted was coloring. And you would draw all kinds of pictures of things that probably didn't help but they were still kids drawing."

Etheldrea recalled, "I gave them to you to give to him."

"And I did. It was the first time I'd seen him smile in about a week. And I told you that, and you would relax and make airplanes and try origami."

"I failed miserably."

"Yeah," he laughed, "yeah you did. Do you see what I mean? You're only eighteen, you've got the world ahead of you, and it doesn't start with searching for bad guys. It starts with you moving on and living. We owe it to him, don't you think?"

She sighed and nodded, "You're right. God, I was so stupid. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Of course."

She stood up and held out her hand, "Thank for the time Lestrade, I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."

"It's fine, anytime Drea. I miss seeing you."

She smiled, "I do too. Have a nice day."

She turned to leave but Lestrade told her to stop.

"Hand me the folder."

She looked at him confused, "I thought you-"

"I'm not, and neither are you. So you don't need it."

She hesitated just a bit, but gave it to him. He put it off to the side and then stood up. He walked over, gave her a hug, and then stepped back and looked at her. He smiled to himself and then shook his head.

"Stop growing."

She smirked, "I can't promise anything."

"You never could."

"Bye Lestrade. I have a train to catch, but I'll talk to you later."

"Until then. Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

She turned and walked out of the office, again ignoring as people glanced up at her. She was almost by the doors when she passed by Sally Donovan and Anderson. The later looked at her wide eyed and then looked away and took a long sip of his coffee. Donovan on the other hand watched her with a cautious look in her eye.

Etheldrea stopped and turned back to her. She stood a little straighter and never broke eye contact.

"You were right Sally." She told her.

"About what?"

"My dad."

"Oh?"

"You said 'One day we'll be standing around a body, and Sherlock Holmes will be the one to put it there.' Guess where I was after he died?"

Sally looked uncomfortable and then walked away, taking Anderson with her. Etheldrea nodded content with what her words had done, and then walked out. Now, she a hit man to track down.

Lestrade glanced down at the file, then shook his head, and looked back up at his computer. He went back to typing, but he continued to glance at the file. For the next couple of minutes he resisted the urge but he had to give in. He opened up the folder and pulled out the first sheet.

It showed a picture and general record of the guy. The next page was his criminal record, and the next few pages were notes Etheldrea had took in him. He browsed through, quite proud of the effort she had put it, and then started to put it away. However, he stopped and reread the last paragraph.

Has been freelance for three months. No contracts what so ever. Hiding average of twenty miles each day. Last known location Glasgow. Heading for Edinburgh. Should arrive by eleventh. First Class Ticket preordered. John/Mycroft clueless. Contact Lestrade for possible help?

Edinburgh? Ticket? What tic- 'I have a train to catch'.

"Son of a bitch." He muttered.

He stood up, grabbed the file and a few other things he would need, and then hurried out the door. He passed by Donovan on his way out and she asked where he was going. He lied about a bug and continued out, hurrying outside. It had only been a few minutes; she couldn't have gotten that far.

He looked around, searching every head for dark hair or a purple scarf, but it seemed like she was- there! Just about to get into a cab! He ran towards her, calling out her name but she either ignored or didn't hear him. Quickly he went to grab a cab that a middle aged man was about to get it.

"Police, sorry, emergency." He said quickly, and then pointed out Etheldrea's cab to the driver, "Follow them."

The driver complied, but eventually lost them. Lestrade knew where she was heading though, and hopefully would make it in time. At the train station, he paid the driver and hurried inside, looking for Etheldrea. With hundreds of people around, it was impossible to tell where she was or if she had gotten on the train or not.

He had tried calling her on the way but she didn't answer. He didn't want to contact John, not yet anyway. He wasn't entirely sure if she was going after this man, but if she was he sure as hell wasn't letting her go alone. So, he ended up paying for a first class ticket to Edinburgh.

Honestly, he didn't expect it to be so easy. As soon as he stepped into the car, he saw her. She was faced away from him but he could see the top of her head, and the telltale messenger bag she carried everywhere. Quickly, he took a non-reserved seat four away and on the opposite side from her. He kept his head low, and would steal quick glances at her, making sure she wouldn't disappear.

Once the train started moving, and he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, he relaxed a bit. He took the file he had taken from her and went to study it more thoroughly. Maybe there was something in there to help him keep track of her. A hotel room, café, anything. There was nothing, and maybe that was a sign that she wasn't going after him.

For the next ten minutes, he read the file and checked on Etheldrea. It wasn't until the eighth check he found she had disappeared. She and her things were gone, and it was like she hadn't even been there! He swore to himself and looked everywhere behind him.

There was a clink on the table, and he faced forward to see Etheldrea smirking down at him. She took a seat across from him and put down her things. She had bought him a beer and herself a coffee.

"Nice to see you Inspector, I had a feeling you'd . . . change your mind."

He closed his eyes and groaned, "You tricked me."

She was still smirking, "Not really. I just laid the track pieces. You didn't have to board."

"So you really are going after him? After all that I told, all that's happened?"

She frowned, "I have to. I'm his daughter, it's my duty-"

"To get yourself killed? Because that's what will happen, and Etheldrea we can't lose you. Imagine what they would do to your family, your friends, to John. Do you really want us going to another funeral?"

"I'm smart enough to not get killed."

"And dumb enough to not have a plan." He held up the file, "There's no plan in here. What were you planning to do? Tie him up and bring him to the police? This man is six feet, five inches and two hundred pounds. Now I know you're a strong girl but-"

"Are you going to help me, or not?"

Lestrade sighed and rubbed his face, "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"You did, and you chose to help me."

"I'm calling John, though. He deserves o know."

She nodded, "I agree."

He fumbled in his pockets for his phone, but couldn't find it. He tried searching around his seat, but it wasn't there. He glanced at Etheldrea and noticed the poker face she had. Silent, watching his every move. He glared at her.

"You said it yourself, not give it."

"I agree, I do, but not yet. Not until we arrive."

"Why?"

"Well he's definitely not going to let me go on this adventure. He'll grab the next train that he can, and if you tell him now, we'll only have about half to a full hour to search. I need longer than that."

He sighed again, "Fine. We'll do this your way. You're just like your dad."

"Genetics." She said with a smile, "Now, you're right. We need a plan."

She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a map and some pens. She also pulled out some more papers which he saw were actively logs of Walker. She started talking about possible locations, and ways they could corner him off. For the next four hours, they planned and plotted, and Lestrade was sure he'd be able to keep her out trouble until John got there.

As soon as they stepped off the train, he asked for his phone, but Etheldrea wasn't paying attention to him. She was on her own phone, reading off a text.

"He's been spotted, not far from here." She said, "Let's move."

She took off, not quite running, but hurrying all the same. Lestrade chased after her until they were stopped outside and alleyway a few blocks from the station.

"Well, do you see him?" he asked.

She shook her head and walked further into the alley, "No. He may have left."

He walked next to her and looked around. It was pretty empty, and with no dead end, he would have easily gotten away before they got there. He sighed and looked to her.

"Alright, well, we just need to keep looking. But first, give me my phone."

Etheldrea nodded and handed him the phone. He turned away from her and started searching through the contacts for John. Just as he found, he heard Etheldrea speak.

"I'm really sorry about this Inspector. Truly."

He started to turn to her, confused, but then something heavy and hard thumped him in the back of the head. He was out before he hit the ground.