Chapter 11

"Be careful." Sherlock told her as she hugged him goodbye.

"I'll watch out for dragons." Sheryl promised.

"Tell your mum hello for me." Irene added.

"Will do." Sheryl replied.

She turned to see Hamish standing awkwardly next to his mother, staring just past her to avoid making eye contact. Her heart ached at his discomfort and without a second thought she threw her arms around him too. Unlike the detective, he responded immediately, hugging her as close as he dared. He leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"Goodbye, Watson."

"Goodbye, Holmes." She replied.

She didn't let on that she could feel how fast his heart was beating. He didn't let on that he could feel her leaning into him to hear it.

Sheryl left 221 B to walk to her parents' flat.

She didn't know it would be a long time before she saw it again.

Sherlock got a call from Lestrade about the case. Sherlock called John and they headed out. Mary stayed home to wait for Sheryl. Mary called her daughter's mobile, which Irene answered, saying that the girl was probably on her way back for it and that was the reason she was late, no call for worry. Irene sent Hamish to return the phone. He grumbled, but was glad for the excuse to be alone with Sheryl. Maybe he'd try to tell her, he thought, but decided against it. A Watson and a Holmes were too predictable to really last.

He searched the street for her familiar frame, but found none. He walked all the way to her parents' flat without seeing her. As he ran back to Baker Street, his mind flashed through worst case scenarios: dead, drugged, stabbed, dead, shot, dead, dead, dead…

His mind wouldn't stop and the graphic images brought tears to his eyes. The blood staining her hair, her brilliant blue eyes dull and lifeless, her skin a sickly ivory. He shuddered and ran faster. When he reached 221 B, he collapsed in the doorframe and choked out a sob.

On the door was a note; its familiar scrawl too sickening to imagine.

Got Sherly.

Get Sherlock.

Love,

Jim