I never told Seb. How was I supposed to explain it? That I'd given my family ring to the man he hated most? So I kept it secret, hidden in plain sight, inside its little black box. Meanwhile, I tried to figure out who might've broken in and given it to me. The last I knew, it'd been with Sherlock, and he… well he was dead. He jumped off the top of a fucking building, didn't he? So who had access to his… his possessions? Or… who hadn't, but had gotten to them anyway? And why give it back to me? It was obviously expensive. Why not pawn it off or something? It didn't make any sense to me.

I had to put my curiosities on hold, however, a week later when I got a strange call from Seb one night. I'd just gotten home from taking Kieran to his friend Amy's house for a sleepover and Sebastian was SUPPOSEDLY "out with a few mates from work".

"Rosie? I've got something you'll definitely wanna see. You know Ian?"

I perked up at the name. Ian had worked for my brother, under Sebastian and I, but still powerful. After Jim's death, Ian turned, and started trying to hunt Seb and me down. Apparently he didn't appreciate our new targeting of crime bosses.

"Yes of course I do. What is it? Did you get a lead on him?"

"I'm standing right in front of him. He's dead."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Seb, we agreed he wasn't one of our hits unless-"

"I didn't do it."

"Well then who the hell did?"

"I don't know."

I frowned, my mind racing. Why had Ian even been HERE, of all places? Tracking Seb and I? Okay, fine. But why hadn't he acted yet? He wasn't one for waiting. And… Who had it out for him? Were THEY tracking HIM? Did they know about US? Were we next?

"Where are you? I'm on my way."

Sebastian paused before speaking quietly.

"22 Hemlock Avenue. Flat 1."

I swallowed hard, hearing the street name.

"Okay. Be there soon."

I hung up, and rushed downstairs. This DEFFINETELY had to do with us.

############

The flat was in the basement, and obviously hadn't been lived in in quite a while. It was dusty and damp, a sickening smell in the air. The lock to the side door leading down to it, which was hidden easily by overgrown bushes, had been broken.

"How did you come across him?"

I asked Seb quietly as I circled the dead man on the floor. He was spread eagle, his facial expression one of terror, or shock. A bullet through the heart was what killed him. Obviously closer range than a sniper. I heard Sebastian laugh, and I turned to face him, arching my eyebrows. He showed me his phone.

"He TEXTED me, Rose. Told me where to meet him and everything… And when I got here…"

He gestured towards Ian's corpse with a grimace. I just sighed. Now was not the time to yell at him for going out on a mission alone. We had other, more important issues at hand to deal with.

"Did you see anyone?"

"No. I looked. But hey, you haven't even seen the best part."

He walked over, and bent down next to Ian's head, shining the light of his phone on the dark floor. There to the upper right, was a lowercase 'b' carved neatly into the floor.

##############

Sebastian and I eventually left, and slowly made our way back to my car silently. I was already trying to piece together what happened- or at least MORE of what happened. We got into the vehicle, and I pulled out of the crowed drive I'd parked in, heading for home. It was quiet for about 5 minutes before Sebastian spoke.

"Drop me off at the train station.

I frowned at him, taking my eyes off the road to give him a look.

"What?"

"The train station, Rose. I have what I need there. When I got Ian's message, I knew I might have to run afterwards. And… I need to. I need to find out who did this, okay? If someone's tracking down Jim's allies, then it's a danger for us. I'll track them, whoever they are, but first I need to lead them away from here, away from you, from Kieran."

"Seb-"

"I promised I'd take care of you, Rose. Let me."

I took a shuddery breath, trying to focus on driving, forcing my panic down.

"I can't lose you, Moran."

He was silent, and I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. The train station was getting closer in my mind's map, and I was terrified. I couldn't be without him, I needed him. Suddenly I felt one of his large hands take one of mine from the steering wheel and hold it tightly. He never said anything, not until I'd parked the car in front of the massive brick building.

"Rose, you won't lose me, okay? I won't let that happen. And I'm only leaving because I know you; I know you can protect yourself and Kieran. You're strong, okay? Stronger than anyone else. Stronger than him… Stronger than them both."

I closed my eyes against the tears threatening to fall, against his words. His strong arms incased me in a hug, and I clutched him to me frantically.

"Promise me. Promise me I won't have to explain to Kieran why you never came back. Please, Sebastian."

He pulled away to place a soft kiss to my forehead.

"I'll be home in no time, Rosie."

It wasn't a promise.

Seb then got out of the car, giving me a salute, and sauntered towards the station.

And he was gone.

###############

When I arrived home, I sat in my car for a long time, doing all I could not to hyperventilate.

Pull yourself together Rose. He'll be fine. You'll be fine. Everything. Will be. Fine.

I let out a half sob, despite my efforts against doing so, and immediately clapped a hand over my mouth. I was NOT going to fall apart. Not after everything I've survived.

Think, Rose. FOCUS. Focus on helping Seb, focus on figuring out who killed Ian.

I willed my lungs to pull in deep breaths, and I tried to remember all the peculiar things that'd been happening lately. They HAD to all be connected, hat with the 'hemlock' similarity. So. Hemlock, a break in, my ring, 22 Hemlock Avenue, flat 1, a 'b' carved into the floor-

Something moving in my peripheral vision caught my eye, and I turned to look. There, tied onto the front door of my flat, was a blue scarf, blowing softly in the wind.

The realization hit me a like a ton of bricks.

The break in, the same day as that obituary… Kieran's room being left so abruptly… My ring… The hemlock… 22 Hemlock Avenue, flat 1, the 'b'…

221b.

My boys.

As if in a dream, I got out of my car, made my way to the door, and reached up to gently take the scarf into my hands. It was still soft, warm, and… It smelled like him. The scent was such a welcome smack in the face, and I felt a salty wetness spill down my cheeks. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I acknowledged that the door was open slightly, but it took a while for that thought to sink in.

Sherlock always shut doors. Always. Either quietly, carefully, as if not to upset evidence, or he slammed them. He couldn't STAND leaving doors open. But I did know a man who ALWAYS forgot to close doors, who aimlessly pushed the door behind him, but never with enough force. A man always trailing behind, caught up in the whirlwind that was Sherlock.

My dear John.

I pushed the door open, and began to ascend the stairs, still clutching that familiar blue fabric to my heart. When I reached the landing, I was met with violin music. A familiar, floating tune. One of welcoming; one of home.

And my world ceased to exist.