I frowned, digging my phone out of my pocket as it rung. It was John, which surprised me, because I hadn't spoken to John since the wedding. And why was he phoning me this early? He knew I had a class, and he never woke up this early anyway. I pressed the green button to answer and put the phone up to my ear, confronting him as soon as I spoke.
"Isn't it early for you, John?"
"Do you know where your father is?" I knew exactly where he was, but I wasn't going to get him. Not now. Not ever. "I'll take the silence as a yes. Come to Bart's." I sighed, pinching my nose, stopping in my tracks on the busy street.
"John-"
"Charlie, please." Damn him. I groaned, hung up my phone, and went towards the road to grab a cab. And I swear, if Dad doesn't write me an excuse, I'll stick a needle in him myself. It wouldn't be the first time.
I walked into the lab, just as Molly reached out and slapped Dad. I grinned, and giggled a little, drawing attention towards me.
"How dare you throw away the stunning gifts you were born with, and how dare you betray the love of your friends." She glanced at me, and then looked back at Dad. "How dare you throw away the beautiful little girl you were given, and leave her to fend for herself. Tell them you're sorry." He rubbed his chin, wincing. She must've slapped him more than once. Good. Leaves one less slap for me to deal.
"Sorry your engagement's over, I'm very happy for the lack of a ring."
"Stop it. Tell your daughter you're sorry, Sherlock, do it now." I cut Molly off, shooting her a look, trying to get her to back off for now.
"Molly, stop." It was the first time I'd spoken. Everyone's eyes were on me, and I glanced at Dad. "He's not worth it. Not right now, anyway." He'd get an earful of it later.
"Relax, this is just for a case." I scoffed, crossing my arms. That wasn't the first time he'd used that excuse.
"What kind of case would require you to do this?" I blocked out the rest. I didn't want to hear it, I just wanted to get to my class. I waited, and then when Billy Wiggins, as I found out later, was done deducing, Dad got a text. He pushed by me, and out the door. I didn't dare follow.
John stared at me, incredulous. "Aren't you going to follow him?"
"No, John, I'm not." He raised his eyebrows at me. "Oh, he'll be back in a second, don't work yourself up about it! Look, I'll get Dad home, you take the others."
"No, no, he's going with you." Mary insisted. John and I both shot her angry looks, but she shook her head. "John, you are going with them to make sure he doesn't take off again. I won't hear it." Dad came back in the room, and nodded to the door when he met my eyes.
"Leaving, Charlotte. Now."
"You've heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course." Dad decided to spark a conversation. Lovely.
"Yes, I have. In some newspapers." John replied. Dad paused, and frowned.
"Hang on, weren't there other people?" He looked at me, but I kept my eyes out the window.
"Mary's taking the boys home, she insisted John go with us. To make sure we don't fight, and that you won't take off again." The rest of the ride was silent. Until the cab dropped us off, that is.
"What is Mycroft doing here?" Dad turned to me. "Did you call him?" I shook my head.
"No. He probably got a call, was told that I didn't come in today. He's spoken to all of my professors." I handed some bills to the cabbie, as John got out after Dad. Dad groaned.
"He always fixes the knocker." He moaned, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
"He has OCD. He doesn't even realize he does it." Dad tipped the knocker back over, pushing the door open after he had.
Dad stopped at the foot of the stairs, since Uncle was sitting at the bottom of them. "Well then, Sherlock. Back on the source?"
"Not now, Uncle." He turned to me as I walked in. He had an angry look in his eyes, a look that said I shouldn't put myself between them, but who else would? I didn't want to see them fight. Not now, anyway. "Please. I don't want to hear it." I was exhausted. I just wanted to go back to bed.
"I must do something, Charlotte, before you end up on the street with him." Dad smirked. I wanted to slap him, too, even more so now.
"Mrs. Hudson would never kick her out, and I'm sure if she did, you'd take care of her." Uncle puckered his lip.
"That I would. But she'd hate you, brother. Your own daughter." Dad shut up then. "Now save me some time, and tell me where we should be looking."
"Under his cupboard, in his bedroom." Dad turned to me, and I shrugged. "Uncle said to save him some time, so I'm doing it." Dad huffed, and pushed past Uncle, marching up the stairs. Uncle gave me a sympathetic look, and I followed him up.
"OH, FOR GOD'S SAKE, ANDERSON!" I groaned, pinching my nose. Anderson's obsession was getting out of hand. I frowned, though, when Basker didn't come to greet me at the door. I turned, and found him in his cage in the corner of the lounge. Basker looked at me with his big sad eyes, and I pouted at him.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but this is for your own good." Dad set down his keys, and I glared at Anderson, who smiled politely at me. "Hello, Charlie."
"Get out of my flat, Anderson. Get out now." Dad marched into the lounge, and some guy jumped out of his chair to let him curl up there. "Take the stupid fans with you. I mean, really, this is getting completely ridiculous!" I snatched the thing he had out of his hand, pointing to the door. "OUT! NOW!" I was about to loose my temper, I knew I was, and anyone in my way was going to get a snap. John froze in the doorway, and I knew Uncle would have smirked, but he knew what I was like when I was angry. He wouldn't dare.
Anderson rushed out, with his buddies right behind him. I turned to the lounge, and looked straight at Dad. I'd held it back long enough. Time to let the tiger out of it's cage.
"No phone call. No text, no note, nothing! You take off, and leave me here, for weeks! WEEKS! AND THE WORST PART IS, THIS ISN'T THE FIRST TIME, DAD!"
"Charlotte-" I cut him off as he sat up, holding his head.
"I was ten. Ten bloody years old, making sure the bills were paid and I had somewhere to sleep at night, hoping you'd come home! YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY I CAN BARELY SLEEP AT NIGHT, JOHN, IT'S BECAUSE OF HIM!" Dead silence followed my shouting. John just stared at me, with an open mouth, not sure of what to say. I turned back to Dad. "AND ALL BECAUSE OF A STUPID CASE-" He glared up at me, standing now.
"Don't talk to me like that, I am your father-"
"YES, YOU'RE MY FATHER, AND YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO MAKE SURE I'M ALIVE, NOT THE OTHER WAY 'ROUND!" That shut him up finally. I held my face, running my hands up into my hair. "DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE A PARENT, BECAUSE SOMETIMES, I THINK THAT I KNOW MORE THAN YOU!" That hit a nerve. Dad pointed, and his voice got low; not shouting, but he had that tone, like he was going to.
"Go to your room." I scoffed, chuckling darkly.
"I'm not a child-" Dad's face went red as a tomato in his anger.
"GO TO YOUR ROOM, CHARLOTTE! NOW!" I glared at him, and slapped him before I grabbed Basker from his kennel and went there, slamming my door shut behind me. I set Basker down, before I yelled into my bed, kicking off my shoes. I wasn't going to any classes today, not with this.
I rolled over, and grabbed my earplugs, shoving them in my ears. I just wanted some quiet. For once, some peace would be nice; besides, I felt like I was going to be sick. All that yelling made me tired, and nauseous. Basker jumped onto my bed next to me, laying his head on my stomach. I smiled sadly, scratching his ears. It was peaceful for a moment, but then someone came into my room, a few minutes later. It was Janine. I pulled my earplugs out of my ears, pausing the music on my phone and sat up. Basker jumped off of me, but I grabbed him, holding him to my chest.
"Charlie, do you want to talk? Woman to woman?" I scrunched my nose.
"No offense, Janine, but no. I don't." She raised an eyebrow.
"Coffee, then?" Coffee. Yeah. That sounded good. "I'll get you a cuppa, come on." I sighed, and got up, following her into the kitchen. Basker leaped from my arms when I did, and scuttled over to John, jumping him as soon as Basker spotted him. Dad was properly dressed now, sitting in his chair, John on the couch. Janine pushed the cup into my hand. "Sherl said you like it black?"
"Yeah, well, Sherl lied." She was using him, he was using her, what was the point in being nice? I smiled, though, for effort. "It's fine, I've got it. You're going to be late, aren't you?" She checked her watch, and went over to Dad, sitting on his lap. I scrunched my nose up even more, turning away. Dad, being affectionate-it made me want to hurl even more.
"Okay, you two bad boys, behave yourselves. Sherl, you're gonna have to tell me where you were last night." Well, first he shagged you, and then he went to get some heroine! Once again, leaving me to fend for myself.
"Working." Dad replied. I rolled my eyes.
"Workin'? Of course. I'm the only one who knows what you're like, remember?" Oh, please, I figured him out by the time I was six. That part was easy.
"Don't you go letting on." Too late. I grabbed the sugar, putting in a spoonful. I liked more cream than sugar.
"Might have to, actually." I seriously thought I was going to hurl. "I haven't told Mary about this, kinda wanted to surprise her." Dad and Janine chuckled.
"Yeah, you probably will." She wasn't going to tell Mary. This isn't real, John, why can't you see it? Ugh. Normal people.
"But we should have you two over for dinner! My place, though, not the skull's dump." They laughed again. I wanted to scream, and I gripped the cup even tighter. I thought I might break it soon.
"Yeah, definitely. Dinner, yeah." Janine got up, and John did right after her. Basker jumped off of his lap when he did, going to lay down in his bed in the corner.
"Well, I better dash. It was brilliant to see you." John nodded in agreement, and Dad got up, opening the door for her.
"Yeah, you too." Dad smiled at her.
"Have a lovely day. Call me later." She turned back, messing with his jacket. I took a long gulp of my coffee, leaning against the counter.
"I might, too. I might call you. Unless I meet someone prettier." I shuddered when it grew silent, fighting the urge to stab myself in the eye. "Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes." She walked out the door, Dad shut it, and I went to grab my bag and my shoes. When I came back to go out the front door, Dad and I locked eyes for a brief second. He was regretting it.
"Charlotte." Dad tried to stop me, but I shoved his arms away as he did, headed straight towards the exit.
"I'm leaving. Don't follow me." I went down the stairs, and opened the door, but was stopped by some men about to knock on it.
"Ma'am, please go back up." I frowned, because these weren't Uncle's men. One of them pushed me back in slowly, taking me by the arm and dragging me up. Mrs. Hudson came out and gasped, so I nodded to her to go back in. She did.
I tugged my arm free as we reached the door, and I barged in, standing by the couch. I held my arms up, letting them search me. Dad gave them a death glare, when I took my jacket off and he noticed how red the arm the man had grabbed was.
"Sir?" The one that had searched me went over to John, who raised an eyebrow.
"Can I have a moment?" John asked. I frowned; he was hiding something. Dad, though, didn't think so. He sighed.
"Oh, he's fine." Dad reassured them. The man searched John anyways, and he complied, holding up his arms. The man pulled a pocket knife from John's pocket, and a tire thing from his trousers. It looked like it was something to tighten the bolts on the wheel, but I wasn't entirely sure. I knew how to drive, but I didn't know how to fix up a vehicle. No one had taught me how.
"Well, that's something you're not pleased to see." John smirked slightly as he said that. I fought back a laugh.
"I can vouch for this man, he's a doctor. If you know who I am, then you know who he is. Don't you, Mister Magnussen?" I turned to the door, and Magnussen looked about, his eyes landing on me for a moment. "I understood we were meeting at your office." Why was Dad meeting with Magnussen? Oh, this must've been the case he was talking about. The one he had to get high for.
"This is my office." He stepped forward, and looked at John for a moment, then at Dad. He was standing across from me now, far too close for my liking. "Well, it is now." He gestured about, and grabbed the newspaper off of Dad's desk, sitting down on the couch.
"Mister Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood, on the matter of her husband's letters." Magnussen seemed to be ignoring Dad. Almost like...like he would. Like how Dad ignored people. "Some time ago, you..." Dad paused, waiting for Magnussen to look at him. "Put pressure on her concerning those letters." Magnussen sat back. "She would like those letters back." Dad took a breath, and continued. "Obviously, the letters no longer have any practical use to you." Magnussen chuckled. Dad frowned. "Was it something I said to you?" Magnussen shook his head.
"No, no, I was reading." He adjusted his glasses. I frowned now; he had something in his spectacles. "There's rather a lot." He was reading Dad. He was reading Dad, he had to be. "Redbeard." Oh no. Oh, he was looking for pressure points. Pressure points! "Sorry. Sorry, you were, uh, probably talking?"
"I-" He left Dad speechless. I bit my lip, and Magnussen turned to me, frowning. He was reading me too, then. Dad cleared his throat, and continued. "I was trying to explain that I'd been asked to act upon-"
"Bathroom?" Magnussen turned to one of his men.
"Alonged from the kitchen, sir."
"Okay." Dad was getting frustrated now, and continued once more.
"I'd been asked to negotiate the return of those letters." Magnussen took his spectacles off, looking out the window past me. "I'm aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents-" Magnussen cut him off again, after looking around the lounge.
"Is it like the rest of the flat?" Magnussen asked that man again, and the man frowned.
"Sir?"
"The bathroom." Dad looked about ready to scream. John was just steady and calm, and all I wanted to do was grab my dog and get the hell out of there.
"Yes, sir."
"Maybe not, then." Magnussen stated, glancing around the place again. Dad decided to try once more, it seemed.
"Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?" Magnussen paused, looking right back at Dad for a second, and then looked around.
"Lady Elizabeth Smallwood." He said it thoughtfully, as if he liked the sound of her name. "I like her." Magnussen made a popping noise with his mouth, and I frowned, turning to Dad with a raised eyebrow. Was the man for real?
"Mister Magnussen. Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?"
"She's English with a spine." Still going on about the Lady? Oh, great, this man was as nuts as Dad, maybe even more so. Magnussen shoved the coffee table forward with his foot, and stood up. "Best thing about the English." Magnussen's man on Dad's left reached forward, grabbing the fireplace fender, and moved it aside. Magnussen stood in front of Dad, and looked him in the eyes. "They're so domesticated." He glanced over at John. "Always standing around, apologizing." He kept looking between the two, and I wanted to just scream. The man was completely psychotic. "Keeping your little heads down." He went past them, and stood in front of the fireplace, pulling down his zipper. My jaw dropped open involuntarily; was he taking a piss in my fireplace? Really? "You can do what you like here. No one's ever going to stop you; a nation of herbivores." He paused briefly, glancing slightly over his shoulder. "I have interests all over the world, but everything starts in England. If it works here," he pulled his zipper back up, "I'd try it in a real country." He took a wipe from his goon, cleaning off his hands. "The United Kingdom, eh? Petri dish to the Western world. Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those for later, so...I'm keeping them." He glanced back up at Dad, who was totally going to blow his top once Magnussen left. Magnussen tossed the wipe onto our floor, and said goodbye. He turned to leave, but turned right back. "Anyways…" He chuckled, pulling a stack of envelopes slightly out of his jacket to show off to Dad. "They're funny." He smiled slightly, and then turned, walking out the door and back down the stairs. His guards followed.
"Jesus!" John cursed, moving now, and I headed back towards the door. "Charlie, where are you going?"
"I still have school, John, I have to go." I didn't say a word to Dad, and he didn't try, either. At least this time, he got the message.
"You're going to go into shock next, Sherlock. Find something that will calm you. Contain your pain." He searched through his palace, but he saw Mary in her wedding gown shooting him first.
Sherlock forced the door open to another room, however, and he smiled. The little girl in front of him giggled, reaching her chubby little hands out, toddling away. Her dark curls bounced as she did. He smiled further, kneeling down, holding his arms open.
"Yes, that's it! That's it, darling, come to Daddy! Come on, you can do it, come to Daddy!" She fell, right before she could reach him. Fat tears rolled down her face from her big blue eyes, she cried and cried, and Sherlock swooped her into his arms, shushing her. "No more tears. No more tears, Charlotte, no more tears." She pouted up at him, snivelling. Sherlock wiped the tears away, kissing her head and shushing her. "You're all right now, Daddy's got you. Daddy's here." He paused, smiling. "I wish I could have done this when you were older. Protected you, like I did when you were small." She wasn't small anymore. She was running away from him, turning around and grinning at him, one of her front teeth missing. He smiled even further; she looked exactly as she did on her first day at school. "I wish I would've stayed, made sure you got inside. A good father would have done that."
"You were a good father, Sherlock, you are one. But not for long." He turned around to Molly, and Charlotte was gone. His sweet little Charlotte. "Next you're going to feel the pain. Without the shock, that's what you're going to feel. You have to control it." Sherlock collapsed. He heard sneakers, and they stopped suddenly.
"Dad?" Charlotte fell next to him, trying to keep him steady and focused, pushing her hair behind her ears. She was fifteen again. "Dad, focus. You have to control the pain. Don't overthink it, just control it. Don't let me fall without you there to pick me up, Dad."
He stood right back up, and ran down the stairs, right into his cage. It was Moriarty's cage.
"You never did feel pain, did you." Moriarty turned slightly from his corner. Sherlock collapsed against the door, breathing fast, and hard. "Why did you never feel it?"
"You always feel it, Sherlock. But you don't have to fear it." Moriarty lurched forward, yelling in Sherlock's face. He collapsed, feeling the pain again. But Charlotte was still yelling at him, fighting for him.
"DAD! DAD, CONTROL IT, DON'T LET THE PAIN GET TO YOU!"
"DAD!"
"DADDY!"
I ran right into the hospital, and up the stairs. Mary fast-walked behind me. I ran right up to John, but I hadn't even broken a sweat. "Where is he." John pointed, and I headed in there, shutting the door behind me. Dad glanced over, and smiled slightly, turning back to stare at the ceiling. "You were shot."
"Yes, I was." I crossed my arms, and paused, furrowing my eyebrows at him.
"You could have died this time. No faking your death, no pretending to fall off a building, none of that drama. You could have died." Dad hummed in acknowledgment, and I sighed. My hormones were making me emotional, I was so tired I wanted to cry. I sat down on the end of the bed, facing the wall and not the window. Dad grabbed my hand.
"I'm all right, Charlotte. I promise you, I'm all right." I turned to look at him, and he smiled softly, gripping my hand. "Why aren't you in class?"
"Because my idiot father got shot, and I had to make sure he was all right." He chuckled, and winced slightly. I turned up the morphine. "Don't even think about messing with this. You need to heal, Dad, you'll catch the person who shot you later." Dad sighed, laying his head back.
"Not good for thinking, Charlotte, how many times do I have to tell you?" I shrugged.
"Oh well. Too bad." He smiled again.
"You're nothing like your mother." I nodded.
"Good. I'd rather be like you than her." He kissed my hand, and I stood, kissing his cheek. "You need to rest, I'll be back later. Don't get shot again."
"I can't promise that." I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled again. "Goodbye."
I went back that night after I was done with class, to sit with him. I brought clothes for him and everything. I opened up the door, and I groaned out loud, banging my head on the door.
"You completely ridiculous man." I muttered, and pulled out my phone, calling John. He picked up on the second ring. "John, gather a search party. Sherlock Holmes has decided to leave the hospital."
"Wait, what? You can't be serious, the man's just been shot."
"He's Sherlock bloody Holmes. If there's a case that needs to be solved, such as the case of his own making, he'll be finding out who did what." I sighed, and picked up the bag, but my head spun slightly. I stopped, as it spun more, and leaned against the doorway. "I'll meet you at Baker Street."
"What are you going to do?" I hung up after he said that, and shut the door, leaning against it heavily. I dug my medication out of my purse, and stumbled over to Dad's bedside, picking up the cup of water there to take the pills. I sat down on the bed heavily, and held my head until it stopped hurting and spinning at the same time. I took a deep breath when it did, and I turned to the window, squinting at the street light streaming in.
"What are you up to, Dad." I muttered to myself, and paused, before I stood. "Guess I'll have to figure that out myself."
"He knew who shot him." I declared as I walked into the flat. Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were in the kitchen, and John was pacing in the lounge. "He was facing whoever shot him, so the question is, why didn't Dad tell anyone in the first place? Is it because he's tracking them down himself, or for some other reason?" John paused, but looked up at me, frowning in concentration.
"He's protecting them." I frowned.
"Who would he bother protecting?" John and I stared each other down, before John sat down in his chair, and sat back. He frowned further, and pat the arms of the chair.
"Don't hold out on me, you two. You call if you hear anything, all right?" I nodded numbly, and Lestrade kissed my head. "Get some sleep, Charlie. You look exhausted."
"Goodnight, Lestrade." I murmured, and he squeezed my shoulder before he walked out. I pointed at the chair, walking around to face John, standing in front of Dad's chair. "He moved your chair back in."
"Yes, he did, didn't he?" Mrs. Hudson said, and when we didn't respond she started to fuss. "Oh, talk to me you two. What's wrong?" I shook my head. "You both could use a cuppa, couldn't you?" I didn't respond, as John glanced at the side stand, and picked up the bottle of...perfume? What was a bottle of perfume doing there? "That's your phone, isn't it, John?" Mrs. Hudson rushed over to pick it up, and I collapsed into Dad's chair. "It's Sherlock. It's Sherlock, John." Mrs. Hudson held it out to John, but he was staring at the bottle. "John, you have to answer it!"
"Missus Hudson, give it here." She frowned at me, but handed it over, and I pressed the green button.
"Charlotte, give the phone to John. Go to bed, you've got to be exhausted." I frowned, but handed it to John, which he took. He didn't put it to his ear, not until I got up and left the room, but not before giving Mrs. Hudson a kiss on her cheek.
I came back down when the ambulance showed up to take Dad back to hospital. I insisted on going with them, even if I was in my nighties.
"Dear God, it's only two o'clock. It's been Christmas Day for at least a week now, how can it only be two o'clock? I am in agony."
"Oh, stop your whining, Uncle!" Uncle glared at me as I entered the kitchen again, picking back up where I left off. I frowned, though, when I saw the laptop. "Is this yours?" I asked, looking at Uncle and pointing at it.
"Yes, upon which depends the security of the free world. And you've got potatoes on it." I glared at him, and backed up a step, pointing at it.
"Get rid of it, Uncle. Gran will throw a fit if she sees this, and you know it." He rolled his eyes, and Dad chuckled and smirked, but Uncle picked it up.
Gran came back into the kitchen looking giddy, and she had a glass of wine in hand. Uncle started to complain again and I held up the knife, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Why are we doing this, Mother? We never do this."
"We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital, and my granddaughter deserves a nice family Christmas, which I'm sure you can agree on." I smiled in triumph, and Gran pulled the knife back down to the potatoes. "We are all very happy, right Charlotte dear?" I nodded at Gran, who laughed, hugging me by my shoulders as she kissed the side of my head.
"Yes, Gran. Very happy."
"Am I happy too, Charlotte? I haven't checked." I glared at Uncle, and Gran leaned over to slap his hand.
"Behave, Mike!"
"Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end." I rolled my eyes, and got back to chopping up potatoes. Basker came scuttling in, and looked up at me with his big eyes. I dropped a piece when Gran wasn't looking, and he took back off again. Gran went back to the other counter, and picked up the cup of tea for Mary, rushing out to give it to her. I slapped the knife down, and Uncle and I argued for a good two minutes before she came back in. She started asking me about how I was then, after my breakup with Alex. She knew it'd been a while, but she asked anyway.
"I'm fine, Gran, really. I've just been very tired lately." Gran rubbed my back, and I shrugged. "It's probably just school."
"Are you sure, dear?" I nodded at Grandad, smiling at the both of them.
"Really, I'm fine." I glanced up at Dad, and then looked back down at the potatoes. "John and Mary making up in there?" Gran smacked my hand. "Ow!"
"She's getting like you again, son. She may need to stay here for...oh, a few weeks maybe?" Gran grinned at me, and I laughed as she hugged me close. "I miss the running around!"
"Mother, you can't have my daughter. That's kidnapping. It's illegal." He stood up, and Uncle stood with him, as they both headed to the door. "Charlotte, no unpacking while I'm out."
"Sure, Dad. Whatever you say."
I woke up with a foggy head, and I stumbled up out of the chair, turning to Uncle, and shook him awake.
"Uncle." He sat up straight, and frowned at me as I continued to act foggy. He was perfectly fine. "What d-" I covered up my mouth, and stumbled over to the sink, vomiting on Gran's dishes. "Oh."
"Oh, dear." Gran rushed over and held my hair back, wincing at the vomit. "Come on. Let's get your grandfather off the couch, you need to lay down."
"Okay. Wait, where's Dad?" I asked, and glanced at Uncle, but he was pulling out his phone already.
"Don't worry about your father, Charlotte. Everything will be all right." Nothing, however, was all right after that day.
At least the nice Christmas had lasted for a few hours.
The car pulled up next to the plane. John and Mary got out, and I paused, before climbing out as well.
Mary went up to say goodbye first, and then John went forward, taking longer. Dad glanced at Uncle, and he nodded to his men, making sure they followed. I did as well.
I didn't watch. I didn't want to see Dad say goodbye to John Watson, I didn't want to think about it, but then he called to me. "Charlotte." I sighed. John patted my shoulder, and I marched past him, up to Dad. I stopped right in front of him, and Dad paused as well, searching my eyes. "Charlotte, I know I've made mistakes. I haven't been a good father, not at all."
"Don't even start." I cut him off, and grabbed him in a hug. "You're the best father a daughter could ever ask for, and if anyone were to say any different, I'd kill them on the spot."
"You threaten too much, that isn't very ladylike."
"Dad." He chuckled, and kissed my cheek. I'd cried far too much the past few months. I was bloody tired of it.
"No more tears. No more tears, Charlotte, please." Dad pulled away, wiping it off my face and cupping my cheeks. "I can't stand to see you cry. I know you can't help it, but I just can't bear it." I nodded, and sniffed, forcing them back. "You'll be fine. You'll be fine without me, you always are." I shook my head, burying my face in his chest, letting him cup my head.
"No I'm not. I act like I am, but I'm terrified you might not come home, and this time you won't. You're not coming back, you're just going to be sent wherever you're needed, and I'll never get to go home again, because you'll never come back, Dad, and you know it."
"You're babbling again. You're going to miss me." The tears kept coming. I sobbed..
"Of course I am. How could I not, you're my dad."
"I've just killed a man." I paused, considering what I felt, but then I nodded briskly.
"I know, but...that doesn't change anything. The man was a psychopath who needed to be stopped, so you stopped him. You solved the case. That's all." He stared at me, his jaw trembling slightly. My face scrunched up, because a headache started then. A migraine was coming. "Why are they making you leave because you did your job, Dad."
"I haven't the faintest idea." I hugged him now, and Dad held my head, setting his chin on top of it. He stroked my hair. "I don't know what I'm going to do with myself without you around."
"Take me with you. I can help." He chuckled, and kissed my head.
"No, that's not an option. You know that." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I love you, Charlotte."
"I love you too, Dad." He squeezed me once more, and then let go, holding me at arm's length. I looked up at him, and he smiled at me, holding my face.
"You are the best part of me, Charlotte Holmes. You will be magnificent." I nodded numbly, because I didn't know what else to say. "I promise to let you know I'm alive. Your uncle will make sure you get my messages." I nodded again. and he pulled my forehead forward, kissing it. "Goodbye my darling." I sobbed again. I was in even more pain now.
"Goodbye, Dad."
I saw Moriarty's face, and my eyes went wide in fear.
I'd felt sick for a while. I was always tired, and I woke up in night sweats. Dad had assumed it was because of his "suicide," and I had thought so, too. But oh, were we wrong.
I had fevers. Chills. Nausea. All the signs of a normal flu...but then my migraine got worse.
"Uncle?" I felt his eyes on me. I didn't know this until it was too late, but I felt sick from this migraine that had come on. They'd been happening far more often than usual. "Will Dad be-be landing soon?" He was concerned, I knew it by the way he paused. I fell out of the car in desperation, and fell to my knees, vomiting on the landing strip. My migraine was extremely worse than normal. I wanted someone to knock me out, in all honesty.
John and Mary rushed over as fast as possible. The driver was calling for an ambulance, and I didn't understand why until I saw the vomit.
It was blood.
I insisted we didn't leave until Dad landed. I didn't want to go anywhere without him, not now. I threw up once more, and then once again in the ambulance.
I was forced to take so many tests, I wanted to pass out by the time they were done. When I woke up, I saw Mary outside with John; he was pacing, but it was as if they were still waiting for news. Dad shut the blinds before he sat down next to me. He didn't look me in the eye, which concerned me even more, because I was already scared. I had something pumped into me through an IV, and it wasn't just to keep me from losing too much weight. I hadn't even noticed I'd lost weight since the wedding.
"Dad, what's going on?" I looked around, and saw Uncle sitting on the other side of me. That full-blown terrified me; Uncle was showing the most emotion I'd ever seen in my life, and Dad...Dad looked on the verge of breaking. I turned back to him, fighting off my own emotions. I put on a brave face, despite my fear. "What happened?"
"Give me a moment with my daughter, please." Uncle hesitated, and leaned over, kissing my head before he left. My eyes went wide, as he shut the door behind him. I turned to Dad, sitting up, trying to get out of bed.
"Get me out of here." Dad pinched his nose, and sat down next to me on the hospital bed, taking my hand in his. He gripped the bed like it was a life support.
"I want to, but I can't." I met his eyes, and a tear slipped down my cheek, despite my fighting. Dad's voice was breaking. It was the most heart wrenching thing I'd ever heard in my life. "Charlotte, you're very sick." I frowned at him.
"Dad, you're scaring me." He covered up his face and let out a shuddering breath. I clenched my bed sheets. "Dad, stop it, you're scaring me."
"It's cancer." My stomach felt like it fell out of my bum, and my throat closed up. "Leukemia."
"The blood cancer? The one in the bones?"
"No, this one is centered below your brain. The migraines were proof of the tumor growing." I felt sick again. I tried to get out of bed, but Dad grabbed a bin, holding it up for me whilst grabbing my hair and pulling it back. I started to cry again when the pain hit, and I held my head. "Oh Charlotte."
"It hurts, Daddy. Make it stop, it hurts." He held me, and cradled my head.
"I wish I could, darling." He sat back and held me, making sure that the wires and drips attached to me weren't mussed up. "You should sleep. The doctor said it would help." He let go with one hand, and I'm sure he turned up the pain killer.
"It's bad for thinking." My voice was starting to get slurred.
"I know." He paused, stroking my hair. "We'll talk later. You need rest."
"Don't you-you need to find Moriarty. You need to go-"
"I'm not going anywhere." I shook my head, and looked up at the window.
"Tell John and Mary. I'll be asleep soon." He paused, but let go of me, adjusting my pillows, pulling my blanket up under my chin. "Daaaaad." He smiled at my slurred whine, and I frowned up at him. "What type of treatment does the doctor want me to go through?" His smile dropped, and his lips pursed as he looked down at the blanket in his hand.
"Chemotherapy." I rolled onto my side, and Dad lowered the bed so that I was comfortable. He stroked my head again, brushing my hair out of my eyes. "But I believe you can do it. Do you want to know why?"
"Because you're my dad. You don't faith, but you have faith in me." He smiled, and leaned down, kissing my head.
"My clever little girl." My eyes became heavy, and slid shut. "That's exactly why."
"Give John and Mary my...love." Dad hummed, and went over to the door. "Bring me Basker." I heard him chuckle.
"I'll try my best."
"And take Moriarty down." I paused, mumbling now. "Again."
"Of course. That's what Sherlock Holmes does, but he needs his daughter, too." I forced an eye open, and Dad was watching me. "Get some sleep, Charlotte. I'll be right here when you wake up." I was afraid to look away. I was afraid that maybe he wouldn't be, that he'd disappear on me again.
"Promise?" He smiled, and nodded.
"I swear it. If it's the last thing I do." I smiled back at him, and rolled over onto my other side. "Sweet dreams."
I hoped so.
I'm sorry for any inaccuracies in this chapter. I know there might be, so I'm very sorry to anyone that notices them.
This is going to be the last chapter for a while, as you can see. And I'm sorry to say that I won't be writing the special, but I have just started posting two new fics. I have three more characters to keep me busy. Plus, this semester of school is hell. But I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think!
Thanks to all the follows and favs and reviews guys! You're support means the absolute world to me. It's the only reason why I keep posting. I hope you guys don't go too crazy while Charlie and I go back into hiatus! I have other fics if you guys need something to read. ;)
I'll talk to you guys again when the new series is aired...next year. Lol. Sorry. Not my fault tho. MOFFAAAAAAAT! *shakes fist*
