Sherlock had a habit of peeking in on Elizabeth before he went to bed. If he went to bed, that is. He didn't know why he did it. He just...did.

Sherlock jerked awake at three am. He had been in his Mind Palace, and he had obviously dozed off. He figured John would tell him that he should go to bed right now. Well, John was usually right.

But first, he'd just check on Elizabeth.

He traipsed up the stairs as quietly as he could, trying not to wake John or Elizabeth. He crossed the landing and peered around her open door.

Her bed was empty.

Sherlock pushed the door all the way open and walked in, gazing around for clues. Her bed was still perfectly made, so she hadn't slept in it. Nothing was out of place. Nothing at all. Did she actually keep her room tidy? What teenager did that?

He started to leave. Maybe she'd gone to stay at a friend's and he'd forgotten.

But then he saw her window.

It was wide open. Sherlock rushed to it, examining every inch of its surface. It had obviously been opened from the inside. Someone had crawled through it. Less than an hour ago, by the temperature of the room. They had been wearing Converse shoes, judging by the scuff marks. They had painted their nails a shiny silver, leaving tiny flecks where they opened the window.

Wait.

Elizabeth owned Converse shoes, and she had reluctantly allowed Mrs. Hudson to paint her fingernails silver last week.

Sherlock climbed out the window, thankful he was still wearing his suit and shoes. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and activated an app he had downloaded. It showed precisely where Elizabeth's phone was and where it had been.

Right now she was in Regent's Park. She was stationary at the moment, and Sherlock hoped she would stay that way. He hurried to the park and started to scan the area.

After ten minutes of looking, he came across a bench. Two teenagers were talking intently, gazing into each other's eyes sickeningly. Then they leaned forward, the boy taking the girl's face in his hands. Oh God, they were going to kiss. Sherlock turned away in disgust.

But not before he saw a pair of Converse shoes and a flash of silver.

"Elizabeth!" Sherlock tore the boy away from his daughter, shoving him roughly to the ground.

"Tommy!" Elizabeth froze on the bench, staring after the boy on the ground.

"Mr. Holmes!" The little creep scrambled to his feet. He brushed himself off and stuck out his hand awkwardly. "I'm Tommy Blue. It's so good to finally meet you." He put his hand down when Sherlock didn't take it.

Sherlock didn't care who he was. He could've been the freaking prince for all he cared. This boy had just kissed his daughter. This was not acceptable.

Elizabeth sensed her father's fury, "Dad, calm down. It was just a kiss."

Sherlock just stood there, contemplating the many creative ways he could destroy this boy.

"Erm...Tommy, maybe you should go." Elizabeth looked to the boy frantically.

"Are you sure?" Tommy seemed a little unsure. He glanced at Sherlock, appraising his rage level. Did this boy seriously think he would ever hurt Elizabeth?

"Yeah," Elizabeth nodded. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Tommy said goodbye, and Sherlock let him leave, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to mutilate this kid. Elizabeth still hadn't moved from the bench. She was watching Sherlock intently.

Sherlock took a deep breath and sat down on the bench next to her. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared down at them.

"Dad, we really weren't doing anything." Elizabeth insisted. "We were just talking. He was saying how he really liked me, and how he was afraid to ask me something. I told him to just say it, and he...kissed me. He's really sweet, and he didn't try anything, I promise."

Sitting there, Sherlock realized that John would have said that he had overreacted. John was probably right. Sherlock wondered when his mind had started letting John's voice take over as his conscience. He had to admit, though. John was doing a pretty good job. He was better with the emotions area anyways.

"I'm..." Sherlock sighed. "I'm sorry."

"I understand that you're mad." Elizabeth rambled. "I understand if you want to ground me until I'm eighty, and I... Wait, what?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're...you're sorry?" Elizabeth still seemed really confused.

"Yes, I overreacted. I trust that you weren't doing anything I wouldn't condone." Sherlock said.

"Erm, wow. Okay." Elizabeth looked up at the stars, barely visible in the lights of London. "John is really rubbing off on you."

"I know." Sherlock made a sour face. "Everytime I tell Anderson he's an idiot, which is true of course, I hear him tell me that I shouldn't. Apparently, it is a rude thing to do."

"I can't imagine why." Elizabeth smiled, and Sherlock grinned back.

"We should probably be getting back." Sherlock stood and offered a hand to Elizabeth. She took it and stood as well. "I am sorry about the whole thing with...Tommy. But I do wish you would not sneak out. If you go out at three in the morning, at least leave a note."

"I'll do that." Elizabeth promised. "Besides if I didn't, you know what John would say?"

"Elizabeth Holmes, if you don't tell us where you are going, I will have Mycroft build a massive dungeon. We will lock you in the dungeon for the rest of your live."

"You'd break me out, right?" Elizabeth smirked.

"Of course."