The nightmares were back. The war. Guns firing over his head. But they were twisted. In the new versions, John was on the battlefield. He turned around to see Mary, blood covering her stomach, so pale. Then he woke up. He could never save her. The TARDIS's engine made a low humming noise. John got up and walked the halls, his bare feet on the cold floor.

Rosie wailed from the end of the hall. John rushed there, to find her, perfectly fine. She must have been hungry, or maybe she had rolled over Mr. Huffle during the night and woken up. John picked her up, bouncing her up and down in his arms.

"Shush, Rosie, you'll be okay." He whispered. She calmed down, making cute little baby noises. John set her down in her crib, and she looked up at him. One day, John realized, she would ask why she didn't have a mom. She smiled. John turned around, feeling the presence of someone at the door way. The Doctor.

"The TARDIS told me that she was crying." The Doctor said. "I bet she wants to go home."

"Alright. I give in. I'll go back to London." John sighed. "Whatever you want."

The Doctor smiled. He grabbed his guitar and played quietly in the control room. Suddenly, the usually green center turned orange, and the screen went black. The Doctor stood up, going to the screen and inspecting the possible damage. It flared back to life, words blinking on the screen. The Doctor's eyes widened as he read the words on the screen.

The TARDIS arrived on Baker Street and John left, taking his bags and his baby.

"John, I'll call you back. I have to attend to some business with our American friends."

"Okay. See you then." John muttered. The TARDIS vanished. John put Rosie in her crib, then went straight back to sleep, in his old, familiar bed. He woke up in the morning, hotter than usual. He went to the bathroom to wash his face, and looked at himself in the mirror. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes, then he went to check on Rosie. She had been quiet all morning. She must have been tired from traveling in space or something. Usually, she would have woken John up earlier. He pulled her blanket out of the crib, staring at the empty bed.

"Rosie?" John asked. He immediately went into a panic. "ROSIE!"

He rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. It rung multiple times without an answer. "Doctor, Doctor! Do you have Rosie? Oh my God, she's gone. Rosie is gone. She's not in her crib. I'll call Sherlock. Get back to me right away."

Sherlock answered. "Hello. This is Private Detective Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street. I can hear you are in distress. Breathing heavily. Not a smoker. Wait-"

"Sherlock, shut up. I need you."

"John. What happened?"

"Rosie."

"Did she vomit?"

"NO! She's missing!"
"Don't panic. First, listen. Do you hear her?"

"... No. Oh my God, no."

"Retrace your steps." Sherlock said.

"I went to my bedroom. I set her in the crib. I was in the TARDIS."

"You may have forgotten her in the TARDIS."

"No! I didn't. She's been taken. I set her, in her crib, last night, then I went to sleep. Oh my God, Sherlock. What if it was Moriarty or something?"

"Moriarty is dead. List of people who know where you live and don't like you."

"Uh- that could be anyone! Sherlock, I write a blog. The whole world can see it."

"Eurus, Irene, someone in Mary's past, anyone connected to the Doctor. I'm checking my mind palace." Sherlock muttered. "No… cross off Irene. Have you talked to Sam and Dean lately?"

"No! Not since last Christmas."

"Wait- someone is knocking at my door." Sherlock said. "I'll be right back. I'll go alert Lestrade. John, Rosie is my top priority. I promise you, I will find her."

Sherlock's side went dead. "Sherlock? Sherlock? Okay…" John pressed in numbers. It took a few rings. "Mycroft! I need help. Someone's taken Rosie."

"I know." Mycroft said quietly.

"How do you know? Are you with Sherlock? Can you find her?"

"I'm not with Sherlock, John." Mycroft said. "I'm at the flat."

"He was just there. How did he leave so fast?"

"He didn't leave." Mycroft said. "I need you to come down here."