Author's Note:

This chapter had taken slightly longer to write than the others. I'm not entirely sure why; it's no longer than any of the toehrs. I found it difficult to write. But I hope you enjoy it! Please review! Pretty Please?

John leant his head against the window, watching London whizz past him. The taxi was stuffy and his legs had so little room they were aching. A shot of agony soared through his head every time the taxi went over a speed bump, causing his head to collide with the pane of safety glass. Next to him, Sherlock sat, his fingers tapping away on his thigh. Clearly agitated, he picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages, clicking on one and reading it through several times. John knew exactly what it was.

Missing you. How's Rebecca? Paris is amazing! See you on Saturday. Xxx

The last text Irene had sent her husband before she died. John had lost count of the times Sherlock had opened and read the message.

"Sherlock, it's going to be fine." John said, still looking out of the window. Sherlock didn't reply. "She'll only be there for a couple of weeks. Just until the Psychiatrist thinks she's well enough to come home."

"And when will that be John? You can't know it will only be a couple of weeks. It will be a month... and then half a year..."

"Sherlock, you're over reacting!"

"Overreacting? My daughter is in Hospital! There's nothing wrong with her!"

"She saw her Mother's skinned body!" John exclaimed before realising what he'd said. "Sorry." Sherlock didn't reply. The rest of the journey to the hospital the taxi was filled with silence.

Mycroft met them at the entrance to the hospital.

"What's he doing here?" Sherlock muttered.

"He's the one who's letting you in, Sherlock. Don't get on his bad side."

"My brother doesn't have a bad side." John doubted that was true. As they reached the entrance, Mycroft balanced his umbrella against the wall so he was able to shake his brother's hand. John wondered briefly why Mycroft always seemed to have that umbrella with him but the thought vanished as Sherlock pushed his brother's hand aside and shoved his way past.

"Sherlock!" John warned but his friend was gone. He helped Mycroft up- he'd fallen over by the force of his brother. "Sorry, he's just a bit concerned."

"Figures. He hasn't cared about that girl at all since she was born, but now it suits him, she's all he thinks about." Mycroft muttered as they entered the Hospital.

"You know that's not true. He's looking after her for Irene." John replied. Mycroft ignored this and continued walking.

"This way." He said as they caught up with Sherlock who was waiting impatiently at the point where the corridor broke in three directions. Mycroft gestured towards the right and the three men quickened their pace (John and Mycroft to keep up with Sherlock, Sherlock to get to his daughter faster.)

As they entered the ward, they were met by six girls, each sitting in their own bed. They stared at the strange men who had just walked in. A nurse who was dealing with one of the children walked confidently up to them.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was irritatingly high and John knew Sherlock would say this to her face. He lifted his foot and stood on Sherlock's toes. Sherlock looked at him questioningly but John just shook his head and glared as if to say "Don't you dare!" Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"We're here to visit Rebecca Holmes. I made a family appointment earlier this week."

"And are you all family?" She asked.

"I'm her father." Sherlock said impatiently. The woman simply nodded and looked at Mycroft, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm her uncle."

"And you?" John looked at Sherlock.

"He's... with me."

"With you?" The woman asked looking from Sherlock to John.

"Er, yes." And before any questions could be asked, Sherlock had walked over to a door with his daughter's name on the front.

"You have three minutes." The woman said. John turned.

"Three minutes? He hasn't seen his daughter for a week! This is his chance to say goodbye!"

"Does he know that?" The lady asked.

"No... I couldn't tell him."

"I'll be back in three minutes." John sighed, knowing it was no good. He turned to Mycroft.

"Three minutes? Could you have gotten a bit longer?"

"It will be easier this way. Rebecca says she's happy, Sherlock says goodbye. Done."

"You really have no understanding of emotions do you?" John said, amazed.

"I'm a Holmes. Of course I don't."Mycroft replied before joining his brother inside. John followed, suddenly tense with worry. He stood in the corner, watching Sherlock talk to Rebecca. He watched the clock. The nurse was being generous; they'd already had five extra minutes. John was just about to ask Mycroft what was going on when the door opened again, revealing another girl in a hospital gown.

"Hi, Becky." She started before realising Rebecca was busy. "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!" She giggled awkwardly. "I'll speak to you in a minute, ok?" Rebecca smiled and nodded as her friend left the room.

"Who was that?" John asked, genuinely interested. However, Sherlock interrupted her answer.

"Becky? Who calls you Becky? You've never let me call you Becky. You never let your mother call you Becky." He snapped, irritated.

"Sherlock." John warned.

"Sherlock, she's a friend. Her name's Beth. She's really nice and helped me find my way around." Rebecca explained

"A friend?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

"Yes, Sherlock, a friend." Rebecca replied, now annoyed. "Am I not allowed to have friends?"

Sherlock didn't reply but instead walked around the edge of the room. John realised nothing more was going to be said between them or quite some time.

"So, are you alright here?" John asked, perching on the end of her bed. Rebecca sighed and nodded.

"I wasn't, but then I met Beth. She's here because her dad didn't look after her properly." Rebecca said simply, glaring at Sherlock.

"And you want to stay here?" Sherlock asked unexpectedly.

"I...I don't know..." She whispered. Then her eyes went blank, as if she was in a trance.

"Rebecca?" John asked, standing up and walking over to the side of the bed. He waved his hand in front of her face but Rebecca didn't respond. Now John understood why Rebecca had to stay here.

"Well, I think it's time to go now." Mycroft said. "I'll make sure a nurse is sent straight away." Mycroft put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Surprisingly, Sherlock didn't wince. He simply turned and walked out, not looking at his daughter again.

John opened his eyes. He was in his old room, which he had been given back now that Rebecca was in Hospital. Why had he woken? He remembered going to bed that night. He also remembered squeezing the pillow over his head, desperately trying to sleep. This hadn't been easy due to Sherlock's violin playing. He hadn't stopped playing since they'd got back from the hospital last evening. And yet John was aware that there was no violin playing now.

So why had he woken? One thing was for sure, he was never going to be able to get back to sleep now. He was contemplating whether or not to just read for a couple of hours until the sun came up, when he heard a creak coming from behind the door. Someone had stepped on the one creaky floorboard in the flat. Someone was in 221b, walking around.

He quietly grabbed his dressing gown and pulled on his slippers. He pushed the door open slightly and peered out. He could see someone. Someone leaving 221b Baker Street.

Sherlock.

I probably should have warned you at the start of the chapter that there was going to be a change in time... Sorry if I confused you... This was the easiest way I could think of finishing it off and leaving enough to write in the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. Review?