When Sherlock got to the kindergarten – he had run all the way there because getting a cab would be a waste of time and, mostly, because he couldn't bear the thought of stopping – a big commotion had already started. Lestrade was next to Molly, holding her and trying to calm her down. She was sobbing against him, in an obvious effort to stop, to no avail. Police officers walked in and out of the building, and Agent Donovan was questioning people already.

Molly raised her head when Lestrade called Sherlock's name. Sherlock was bathed in sweat, his clothes a mess, and he was panting. He stopped in front of Molly, catching his breath, but he did not turn to her.

"What do you have?" he asked.

Lestrade filled him in on what was going on. They had questioned all the staff from the kindergarten that was still there and they had called the parents from Robyn's class. No one seemed to know anything about her wanderings. The only one who seemed able to help was the responsible for Robyn, who had received the call in the morning and a signed fax with the authorization, and had delivered Robyn when classes were over. It had been a woman who had picked her up. Short, light brown hair, not too tall. They wanted to take Robyn's responsible to Scotland Yard to build a facial fit picture but he had decided to wait for Sherlock to arrive.

Sherlock heard it and nodded. He couldn't face Molly, he just couldn't. It was heart-breaking. Lestrade held Molly's hand and asked Sherlock:

"Did you run all the way here?"

Sherlock didn't answer. He paced away and grabbed his magnifying glass. It was time to quiet his heart down and leave the father role behind. They were dealing with a criminal, a kidnapper and he, Sherlock Holmes, would have to rise to the occasion. He would be again the consulting detective, and he was his own client.

He scrutinized the entry, taking careful steps. There were too many footsteps to recognise but he approached Robyn's responsible, asking her details of the way Robyn and the strange woman had taken. The responsible – she was not yet thirty – was quick and concise, just the way he liked and needed. Sherlock knew how lucky he was Lestrade was his friend; otherwise he would have to wait at least twenty four hours for the search to begin. There were police officers with Robyn's picture all around London, searching for her. And he was here, looking for clues without really knowing where to start. He found traces of thread, clothes' fabric and different types of dirt on the ground. He picked it all up carefully, and watched as Donovan left with the kindergarten's responsible, telling him they would let him know whenever they had the facial fit ready. Sherlock nodded and Agent Donovan paced away. She was concerned. Sherlock did not deserve this, no matter how much she hated him sometimes.

Sherlock looked around once more, wondering why on earth Robyn had accepted to go with someone she didn't know, and realising straight away that his daughter would never do that. Molly was always warning her about strangers, so it had to be someone they knew. Inside the classroom he checked the paper file where they kept all of Robyn's drawings. They were not many, and they showed that, when it came to drawing, Robyn was certainly not a prodigy. There was one with today's date and he took a closer look at it. There was him, Molly and Robyn and there were balloons on the ceiling and a cake. Robyn was playing a violin and coming out of Sherlock's mouth inside a speech bubble was a word, scribbled in what Sherlock deduced was her scruffy handwriting. Sherlock didn't know she could write. And he doubted Molly did. The word was 'love.' He wondered why he was the only one saying it in Robyn's drawing. He folded the paper and put it inside his pocket, leaving the room. There was nothing of interest there.

'Think!' he said to himself. Who would take Robyn with them? Who, from the people Robyn knew, would have taken her away and why? The forged signature and call were suspicious, so that was not just a prank. That was something much more serious and Sherlock was afraid now that more than Robyn's life was at stake. He paced outside the building and headed towards Molly, who was now a bit calmer, talking to Lestrade.

"We have to go to St. Bart's." Sherlock said, looking her for the first time since he had gotten there.

"What? Your daughter…"

"I have to analyse this." he said, before she could continue, showing her the samples he had collected. "She needs us operative right now, Molly. Crying isn't going to make us find her faster."

Molly's jaw twitched again, but she held the cry. She nodded and Lestrade let go of her hand and signalled Sherlock to follow him. They would get to St. Bart's a lot quicker on a police car.

Molly opened the doors of the morgue and Sherlock followed. He sat at the microscope and started with the dirt samples, trying to find a match to all of them, trying to give them a place. Molly sat down as well, arms folded across her chest. She spoke.

"Do you even care for her?" she asked.

Sherlock raised his eyes from the microscope and her eyes locked on his. He saw anger and hurt as they welled up. He felt a lump on his throat and, for the first time in so long, the urge to cry took over him as well. Somehow, Robyn's kidnapping was about him. He sensed it, he knew it. He fought the tears back with a blink.

"I am not sure why you are asking me that." he answered. Of course he knew why, but Molly didn't talk to him as much as before and he wanted to know how she felt. He was tired of trying to guess.

"Sometimes it feels… When I had Robyn, I thought you were going to change, that you were going to care more. Not for me, just for her. I thought it would change you. It sort of did, for a while. When she came back home from the hospital you seemed… excited. But then it all went back to what it used to be. And you think Robyn is just a baby, that she doesn't care, but she does. She is kind, you know. And she forgives all your ramblings and bad moods, but I know that she is also afraid of you sometimes." She paused, sensing the way the conversation was slipping from her, from what she really wanted to say. "And tonight, I just can't understand how you can be so… calm. So rational. I am here trying my best not to cry my eyes out and desperate because there is nothing I can do to find out where she is, and you are just sitting there, making decisions. And it makes me wonder if you actually care, or if we are just a burden that you had to carry because you think it is your duty to do it."

She had started to cry again. Sherlock got up and got closer. He swallowed the lump on his throat. He held her arm in his hand, clutching at the white shirt.

"You are not a burden." He said. "None of you. And I am sorry if I am ravenous sometimes and if I lose control, or if I don't act towards Robyn as a father should, if I forget sometimes that she is just a child. But I do care about her. I am sorry I am so bad at showing it."

Molly waited for him to continue but he didn't. She tried to ignore the fact that he had not included her in his caring.

"We are going to find her. I promise." He said.

Molly nodded. She believed him and that was enough for now.

Sherlock's phone rang and he answered Lestrade's call.

"Yes, do you have anything?"

Sherlock's face turned white as he heard the inspector speaking and he turned off the phone just a few minutes after, staring straight at Molly.

"What is it?" she asked, holding his arm to restore her balance.

"They have finished the facial fit." Sherlock said, clenching his jaw. "It was Mary. Mary took Robyn."