I know, I know. I'm sorry, please forgive me :(

~0~0~0~

Where was he? John paced the living room like a caged tiger, ignored by the lingering police officers who had been examining 221B. His first thought had been Mycroft, dialling the number only to find the elder Holmes to be somewhere in Europe and unable to get back for some time. After verbally abusing the man for not giving a shit about his friend, then had rung up Mary to take Bella away from the crime scene. His next phone call had been directly to Greg, who had brought a team of personnel with him to examine the scene. Most of them had gone home, with the last few wrapping up their investigation.

"John, sit down." Greg urged him, "Pacing yourself into a frenzy is not going to help." John stopped, staring at the man, furious and terrified.

"They were supposed to be watching her!" He screamed, jabbing his finger towards the window violently, "And Mycroft can't take two minutes out of his fucking schedule to fix his mess!" He paused, deflating, the latest in a long line of rants taking its told on him, "Why can't they let him stay dead?" He asked, sounding desperate for an answer. It didn't help, being back in Baker Street. Faye had told him that she was going to redecorate, make it more 'family friendly' for when Bella grew older, but she hadn't touched a thing. He had been dreading seeing the flat changed, having any reference of nod to Sherlock removed, but this seemed worse somehow.

"John." Greg sighed, placing a hand on the man's arm, "Go home. Mary's waiting, Bella's waiting for you. You know I'll contact you when we know anything but torturing yourself is just going to make everything worse." He opened his mouth to protest, because Mary and Bella were safe but Faye wasn't, then nodded. Faye wouldn't appreciate him ranting and raving instead of looking after Bella. In fact, she'd probably scream at him if he didn't. He smiled fleetingly, memories of his friend arguing with Sherlock over little things that made them such a... unique relationship.

"You're right." John admitted, rubbing his hand over his face, "Of course you are. Right, I'm going." Greg patted his shoulder once in encouragement and John strode towards the door, stopping to turn back and point at him in warning, "The moment you hear anything, anything, you ring me." He demanded and Greg nodded.

"Of course I will." He retorted, "I'm not an idiot." John nodded, chastised because he knew that Greg wouldn't leave him out of anything, then left 221B, feeling himself relax the moment he stepped onto the pavement outside.

~0~0~0~

Faye stretched as she woke up in the corner of the small, windowless room. The yellow lights that had been turned on stung her eyes momentarily and she squeezed them shut before trying again. This time the lights didn't try and blind her, and she stretched her legs out in front of her.

She wasn't being guarded particularly closely, but she didn't want to risk injury in a vain attempt to escape, so she leant back on the wall, hands clasped in front of her, incredibly bored. The moment she had woken up in the room the night before she had quickly searched herself for her mobile, but obviously that would have been too easy.

John would notice she was gone soon, then Mycroft would find out. Once he realised she was gone, two things would happen. One, his entire force would be fired, because really, could they not do their job? And two, he would find her. Nothing would stop him, so all she had to do was wait. Of course, she was slightly worried about Bella, but she was in very capably, fiercely protective hands so all she had to do was reassure herself with the knowledge that John had her daughter and she was calm again.

The door opened and she looked up lazily to see Moran saunter in. He sauntered over, a hand in his pants pocket, then decided to join her on the floor. He crossed his gangly legs as he cocked one side of his mouth in his attempt at a friendly smile.

"Where's Sherlock?" He asked simply. She rolled her eyes, exasperated, and crossed her arms, looking away from him.

"In the ground." She snapped, "Let me go." He chuckled darkly.

"You were waiting for him." He replied offhandedly, as if it was a minor detail, "So I'm going to ask you again." He reached out, grabbing her hair and using it to pull her head towards his. She cried out in surprised pain, "Where. is. Sherlock?!"

"In the pissing ground!" She screamed, "I should bloody know, I buried him!" She placed her hands on his chest and pushed away, tearing her hair from his grasp. His eyes narrowed and he stood up.

"No one will find you." He spat, "Holmes' minions couldn't keep me away from you, what makes you think they'll be able to locate you now?"

"Because he will." She replied calmly, now leaning back on the wall again, "He always does."

"You'll never see your daughter again." He pointed out, "I'm not letting you go until I get my hands on Sherlock Holmes' head." His smirk twisted into a sick grin, "Poor Bella, growing up without both parents. Perhaps your own mother will take her in." At her hardened look he held his hand to his lips, faking a look of shock, "Oh, I'm sorry. I know she's a sore subject for you Mary." Faye tensed, physically feeling herself fill with anger.

"You do not call me Mary." She snarled, "My name is Faye, and when Mycroft gets his hands on your head, you'll never forget it, you twisted son of a bitch." Moran chuckled before grabbing her face, squeezing her cheeks painfully.

"I would watch who you are talking to." He warned her before letting her go and patting one of the red marks he had left behind, "Now, you are going to tell me where Sherlock is, aren't you?"

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" She asked, curious, "I mean, what did he ever do to you? I've never even heard your name before." Sebastian seemed almost stunned, something which Faye found both amusing and slightly alarming. Then, the man smiled and stood up.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours." He told her calmly, "Ask Martin outside if you're hungry, or thirsty. Need the bathroom, that sort of thing." He reached down and patted her on the head like a dog, "You'll be a good girl, won't you?" He asked in a mocking voice before turning and leaving with his hands in his pockets. The door slammed shut behind him and the unmistakable sound of a bolt lock rang through the empty room.

~0~0~0~

John stepped into his and Mary's home, heavy hearted and feeling completely useless. The further away he had found himself from Baker Street, the more he regretted leaving. He may not have been as brilliant as Sherlock, and he could hear Faye scolding him for thinking that as he did, he could have helped somehow. He needed to help her.

"John?" He looked up to see Mary stood in the doorway to the living room, Bella on her hip. She looked worried, but she relaxed slightly when her eyes fell on him, "Did they find anything?" He shook his head, walking over and taking the little girl off her without even asking. Bella seemed, thankfully, unaffected by the sombre atmosphere or the fact her mother wasn't there.

"They've got people searching, but he's done a rather good job." He replied tiredly, "Have you eaten?" She shook her head.

"No, I fed Bella but I wanted to wait for you." He smiled, she was amazing. He leant over and placed a kiss on the side of her head.

"I'll put her to bed then cook us something up." He promised. Bella always went to sleep quickly, and tonight was no exception. Her meerkat sat next to her head and John watched her breathe in and out, praying that she wouldn't have to grow up without both parents.

"Do you think they'll come after her?" Mary asked had asked as John fried their omelettes. He shook his head, chucking some ham into hers.

"If he wanted Bella he wouldn't have taken Faye when she wasn't there." He reasoned and they fell silent for a moment.

"You don't think he's actually alive, do you?" Mary asked timidly, worried about his reaction.

"No, I don't." He replied instantly, "I have thought about it, but he wouldn't have done that to Faye. He would have told us." He had gone over every possibility that he might have survived. Maybe he had somehow managed to survive the fall, and because he'd been so distressed John hadn't taken his pulse correctly. But when he found out Faye was pregnant, those thoughts had gone away. There was no way he would have left her on her own after that. Even Sherlock wasn't that heartless.

"Are you sure?" Mary pressed and he shot her a sad smile.

"Unfortunately, yes." He told her and she smiled back, rubbing his arm in comfort and dropped it.

~0~0~0~

Mycroft stood in the middle of 221B's dark living room, alone. His new members of staff we posted around the building, hoping to find some sort of clue to Faye's whereabouts. On his own, he was able to show the slightest amount of worry for his friend. He didn't have long, but he felt his face twist unnaturally in concern. This shouldn't have happened, he had failed to protect her. Now it was a rush to find her, because Moran wasn't going to let her go alive. The clock was ticking and no one was going to rest until they had located her.

The bathroom door opened and he turned slowly, now looking as neutral as he always did. In the shadows stood his brother, eyes darting around the room in critically, noticing everything, analysing every single moved object before looking Mycroft dead in the eyes.

Sherlock hadn't been able to come over the night before and had replied to her text, telling her he'd be there the following night. He was so close to cracking the circuit in Central London that Moriarty had left behind, crumbling what was happening in Europe seemed to be breaking the central command and he had to follow any leads he came across. Unfortunate as it was their daughters birthday, but as he wouldn't have seen her anyway it wasn't that important. It wasn't like babies remembered anything from this age anyway.

He slowly approached his brother, falling to a stop just in front of him. The fact that Mycroft was there but Faye wasn't told him everything that he needed to know.

"Moran?" He asked and Mycroft nodded.

"Some time last night, I'd say just after she came home from Dr Watson's." Mycroft drawled, "She was expecting you, she'd tidied." Sherlock nodded once, then took a swing at his brother, striking him the cheek and sending the older Holmes to the ground.