I'm back! *gasp* I kept a schedule. I can hardly believe it. This week has just flown by, I hardly realized yesterday that it was Friday and then I couldn't remember what I was supposed to do Saturday even though I knew that there was something I was forgetting about. And then it hit me that I was supposed to post and then of course, I had to sit down and type out the rest of this chapter. So, here it is!

Thank you Lady Gisborne 15, NicBarnes, Jess Marilyn, and Witty Lady for reviewing on the last chapter. I really appreciate it when you guys review; it's so upbuilding to see how much you all love the story and it helps me to progress in the story instead of finding it a chore to sit down and write. Knowing how you all feel about my work is the thing that keeps me writing. Thank you, all of you. You are all absolute gems!

I hope you enjoy chapter 14!

-lightinside

The cab pulled up at what I now supposed was on its way to being my dad's flat and I couldn't bring myself to step foot on the sidewalk. Suddenly, it felt like time had ceased to matter; I could sit in the cab for as long as I wanted and he would never come looking for me. When the realization that I was wrong finally made its way through my almost thoughtless haze, the front door opened.

Seeing my father's face broke the spell. I handed the driver the fare I owed him and left the car before I rushed up the stairs and found myself hugging the man that stood in front of me with an almost crushing force.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed as I all but knocked the breath out of him. "KW, what's going on?"

"Tell you in a minute." I said, and my father didn't speak again for a long time. When I was ready to release him from my hug and go inside, he made sure that I wouldn't dissolve into tears first before going into the kitchen to put on the kettle. I watched from the couch as he kept peeking around the corner, making sure that I was still holding it together. I might have laughed if I wasn't so distraught. My dad had no earthly clue what was going on or why I was here and he still wasn't going to force me to talk about it before I was ready.

Well… I suspected he might have had some clue. He already knew about my growing feelings for Sherlock and he kept insinuating that there was something more to be found on Sherlock's part than I was willing to see. Which, honestly, seemed more than impossible to me at the moment.

"So…" My father prompted when we were settled on the couch. "This is probably not going to go over well, but… how was your day?" He winced slightly in anticipation of my answer, which was an immediate and exaggerated groan.

"Dad."

"It's something people ask!" He claimed apologetically. "It's a shite question, but I have to ask it anyway."

I pressed my lips together, throwing him a look before I sighed quietly. "It was terrible."

"Why, darling?"

"Because." I answered simply. "It just was."

"Hmm." I could see that he was fighting off a smile, probably thinking that I sounded just as I had at six years old, complaining about recess on our walk home from school. Only it was so much more complicated than that. So… so much more complicated. "Well, then, tell me KW. Did you call me for silent pity or for spoken sympathy?"

I sighed again. "I dunno. I thought I wanted to talk about it. But now…"

"Tell me about it." He insisted. "You'll feel better if you let it go."

"Okay. Um… do you remember the night you were sort of… testing Sherlock?"

My father's eyes began to shine with a light that seemed to mock me quietly by saying 'I told you so, I told you so'. "I believe I might."

"Well…" I threw my hands up in the air when words failed me. "I mean, you know?"

With a small laugh, my father shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't."

I scowled at him, which only seemed to double his amusement. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"No, I'm afraid I'm not."

"Fine." My skin began to burn. Admitting this, to me, was almost like eating beets. You did it, not because you wanted to, but because you were told to. If my father hadn't told me to open up to him, then I might have chickened out already and diverted his attention to something else, like my mother. That would have been an almost welcome distraction. If not for him, then for me. But this had to be done, sooner rather than later, and it seemed that I already knew it. If I hadn't, then why had I come here?

"I'm in like with him. And when I say 'in like', that's what I mean. Not 'like' as in friend and not 'like' as in love, but… almost. More than a friend and just falling short of whatever is beyond that. " I realized how insane I sounded and wondered immediately if my dad would be able to make heads or tails of my inane babble. "I don't know what's happening to me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't mean for it to. It just… I dunno. I moved in and thought he was the most irritating and infuriating man I'd ever had the displeasure to meet and now…" I looked to my father, feeling very vulnerable, and very desperate. "Does any of this make sense?"

"Perfect sense." He assured me. "But it might help to elaborate."

"You just said that it made perfect sense!"

"Not for me, dear. Elaborate for yourself."

Elaborate for myself. I wished suddenly that I could ask him what he meant. But I already knew. The answer was there, inside me, but I had buried it so far away from the light that it had become incredibly easy to ignore it.

I could deny it. I could drown it out, if I wanted, but I knew now that it wouldn't change the fact that it was there.

It was there.

"Do you think…" I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. "You don't…? Do you?"

My father raised both eyebrows. "Don't ask me, Katherine. Ask yourself. Do you think you love him?"

And there it was again. That stupid word! Love. What did I know about love? I'd never felt it, not like I did now.

Wait, what?

My eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Oh my God." I breathed. "No. No, no, no. Not now. Not now."

"Why not now?" My dad asked, just a little confused.

"Seattle." I found myself blurting, like an idiot. "I'm going to interview for a job in Seattle. I don't know if I'll get it… but, Dad, I can't love him. Not when I might be leaving. Just… not now."

"When did you find this out?" He seemed a little shell-shocked, but otherwise unharmed by my unceremonious announcing of my possible move.

"This morning. Yesterday, really. Made the choice to interview this morning."

"So, KW. Tell me. What are you going to do?" My dad set his cup down on the small coffee table in front of us and shifted so that he faced me more directly. "You have Sherlock and that's assured. This job isn't. You could lose it in the blink of an eye, no matter how talented you are. It's the way the world works nowadays."

"I could lose him just as easily." I remarked before I could keep from it.

My father considered this. "Perhaps. But when love is involved… that's when things happen; the magical things. Love is stronger than any medicine you could ever imagine. Stronger than steel. Burns hotter than fire. If you love the right person, if it's mutual, then love can change your whole world for the better."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm telling you this, KW, because I'm wondering how much you're willing to give up. I've told you all your life to shoot for the stars; to reach as far as you could, because I knew that if anyone could do it, it was you. And I don't know when you stopped believing in magic, darling, but it's right in front of you. All you have to do is reach."

"Dad…" I fought the urge to bury my face in my hands. I didn't know what to do. I knew that he was right, I knew it. I just… "What if I go to Seattle and decide to take the job?"

"What if you do?" He asked. "Katherine, you'll love him even if you go to Seattle. There is no running from it. There's only… living with it or living without it. And if you choose to live without it, you'll regret it forever."

"Well, what about you and Mum?"

My father shook his head. "You and Sherlock aren't us. Your mum and I, our story ran its course. And I don't regret it. She gave me three wonderful, bright, beautiful children and nearly thirty-six years of happiness. Even though she was never the easiest person in the world to live with, I loved her anyway. And I think that you know you would feel the same about Sherlock; that's why you're so afraid of what comes next."

"I…" All of my excuses had run out. "You're not helping me very much."

He laughed, not perturbed by my poutiness. "Depends on how you look at it."

"I mean, I had this same conversation with Dana earlier this morning and I swore I wasn't in love with him. I knew I wasn't…" I told him quietly. "And now I'm talking to you, and it's almost like… I can't not admit it. I think I fight her because it feels like sometimes she's so desperate to prove me wrong about myself and I couldn't stand it if she was."

"Don't worry about Dana. Don't worry about Sherlock, even. Right now, figure out where you stand. Not where you want to stand, Katherine, but where you do. Figure that out and go from there."

And after all of the talking and the denying and the wishing and the backtracking, I knew. I finally knew where I stood. My dad wouldn't let me hide; I couldn't, not from him. He'd gotten the truth out of me and now I knew what I had felt all this time, but had refused to allow myself to see.

The truth was that I did love Sherlock Holmes. And now that I knew that, I had to figure out what came next. Whether I would make the move to Seattle if I was offered the position at Providence Regional, or whether I would give that up to stay with a mad, consulting detective that had somehow wormed his way into my heart.

I would have everything I needed, but I still wondered if, when the time came, Sherlock would admit to having any kind of feelings for me at all. Friends or otherwise.

But it had to be done. These were the things that I had to say. It wouldn't be hard, I could just take a breath and let it all come tumbling out at once. If he asked questions, though…

"He'll be home any minute now." I found myself saying. "If I'm not there, he'll wonder why." I guess that was my way of saying 'Alright, Dad! Conversation's over. Lovely talk, this. Really. So very helpful,' before I made a mad dash for the front door. I never was able to be blunt with my father. It seemed much too harsh for someone as gentle as him.

But, thankfully, he understood and didn't protest. With a nod, he rose from his seat and walked me to the door. "I love you, darling. Don't forget that. And if you need me… if things don't go the way you want them to, don't forget that I'm here for you. Anytime."

"I love you too, Dad." I said, kissing his cheek. "I'll let you know."

And then, bracing myself for the reality that lay ahead, I left.

Back at the flat, I was not surprised to see that Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson had arrived before I did. Mrs. Hudson called out a hello as I ascended the stairs, which I returned as cheerily as I could before opening the door to my flat. I already had a notion of what I would find when I stepped in the room. And I was not in any way disappointed.

Sherlock sat in his chair, rosining his bow with long, steady strokes. He hardly looked up when I came in, as if the motion itself had become a part of him.

"Hey." I said, plopping down in the red armchair. "How did the shopping go?"

Sherlock's eyes rolled toward the ceiling before he looked pointedly at me. "Next time, you go."

I laughed softly, "That bad, huh?"

"Boring." He put the rosin down, along with the bow, and leaned forward. "How do people do that? Shopping. So mundane."

"It's food, Sherlock." I reminded him. "People have to go to the shop if they want to eat."

"Ah, but you see, I have a theory."

Thinking that this was bound to be more than interesting, I gave him my full attention. Well… I tried to. Halfway through his explanation about the existence of dim sum, I tuned out. My thoughts were wandering again; journeying to far off places; to the realization of how it would feel to walk through the front door and not find him waiting for me.

"So, what do you think?" Sherlock asked, smirking satisfactorily. "Brilliant?"

I knew that he was mocking me for blurting out praises whenever I found something he said to be overwhelmingly fascinating, but I smiled anyway.

"Always." I told him.

Wondering for a moment why he suddenly looked so stunned, I decided that this was the moment I should bring up Seattle. It was, really, now or never. If I waited, I would back out of the whole thing and I would regret it. I had to at least try.

"Sherlock…" I began hesitantly. "I, um… there's something we need to talk about. It's about my job."

"Your job?" Interest could be plainly heard in his tone of voice, and apparently he realized this because he picked up his bow again and commenced to rosin it. Keeping his hands busy. Deflecting. "What about it?"

"Dana called the other morning. Mentioned a… possible position in the States. In Seattle, actually." I pretended not to notice how his eyes flicked to mine in alarm and soldiered on. "And I'm thinking I'm going to go and interview for it."

Sherlock was quiet for a long time, obviously trying to figure out what he should say in response to my untimely news. The longer he went without speaking, the more I could feel my nerves beginning to get worked up. My stomach flopped, my palms were sweating, my heart was racing; I was burning.

"Sherlock?" I was trying so hard to keep the shake out of my voice. "Can you please… what do you think about that? Anything?"

"Uh…" The detective shook his head, bringing himself out of his stupor. "Yes. Yes… you should. You should go to the interview."

For some reason, that didn't seem to be the answer I wanted to hear. Suddenly, I wished that he would scowl or yell or tell me not to go, just… anything. Anything to make me stay.

"I should go." I repeated, nodding. I was trying so desperately to keep myself from having a mental breakdown in the middle of the living room, but it didn't seem to be working. I felt so sick. Why was I so sick? "Right. I mean, yeah. It's a fantastic opportunity. It's Providence Regional, for God's sake."

Babbling. Shaking. This was not going to end well.

"Right." Sherlock said halfheartedly. "Well… good luck to you, then."

Good luck? He was wishing me good luck. What…

"Yep. Thanks." The words found their way out of my mouth, though I didn't know how I managed to say them so calmly. "Um, well, I just wanted to tell you. I don't know if I'll get it, but if I do, I'm going to take it. I think. So, anyway. I'm going over to Seattle for New Year's. If you want to start looking for another flat mate while I'm gone…? That would probably be best."

What. The. Hell. What was I doing?

"Yes, I think so, too." Sherlock answered quietly. "That would be best."

"Good. That's… good."

"Good."

"Right." I said again. "Well, I'm going to finish getting everything in order and then I'm off."

Where I thought I might be going, I had no possible clue. I had two days before I had to be in Seattle; two days that would probably be spent avoiding Sherlock as much as possible. I couldn't handle this. I didn't know what I was getting myself into, or out of, and I just couldn't handle it right now.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock looked up at me, finally, and stopped rosining his bow.

"To see Dana." I lied smoothly, for the first time in my life. "She called. Wants to do dinner. Probably a movie. I'm probably not going to be back until tomorrow afternoon. I have the morning at the clinic."

I thought that finally, I would get more than a mediocre response from him. Finally, he would say something. But, he didn't. He nodded… and that was it.

Ready to burst into tears, I made my way to my room and did exactly what I'd told him I would. I finished packing, grabbed my suitcase and coat, and I left.