Mycroft had watched his niece for some time. It had been ten weeks since Sherlock had thrown himself from that rooftop and the funeral had come and gone. His parents had been there, mourning their son along with Elizabeth. While Mycroft had implored Sherlock to tell his parents of the plan, he had declined to do so, knowing that they would tell Elizabeth. There was no way that Elizabeth could know what had happened. Sherlock would not allow it.

Time had not healed the girl. She spent her days in a delirious state and her evenings at work. Mycroft let her go about her business in his house, watching her wander around the vast space and then settling in her room. She would dine with him in the evening, but she would hardly say anything to him. Instead she would offer small talk.

Ben was often coming around, making sure that she was coping. While the two of them had not repaired their relationship or spoken of what happened between them, Mycroft suspected it would only be time before they were together once more. He had told Ben that Elizabeth had her reasons for keeping her distance, but he did not say what those reasons were.

"Something is wrong."

Mycroft looked up as soon as he heard Elizabeth speak. She was stood in the doorway to his study, her laptop in her fingertips as she wandered into the room. She placed the laptop down on the desk and moved around to where Mycroft sat, crouching down and lacing her fingers on his desk as he looked to the screen she had pointed in his direction.

"Mysterious diamond in France returns," Mycroft read the headline and Elizabeth nodded.

"It had been missing for three months…stolen from a vault that was only accessible by two key cards and both were owned by a husband and wife who claimed they had not stolen it. There was no discrepancy on the CCTV and there was no fingerprints or anything in the vault," Elizabeth declared to her uncle and Mycroft cocked a brow as Elizabeth tried to implore him to see sense as she remained knelt by his side. "No one could have solves this…no one but him."

"Elizabeth…" Mycroft sighed.

"I know it sounds mad," Elizabeth nodded, standing up and shutting the lid to the laptop. "And I thought it was mad when Anderson emailed me it, but he told me that there was another case in Germany the previous week-"

"-You saw him jump," Mycroft interrupted his niece, swivelling in his chair to look up to her, folding one leg over the other and resting his hands on his kneecaps. "Elizabeth, you saw him jump from the roof."

"But he is my dad," Elizabeth said. "He can do things like this…the impossible…it is what he lives off."

"And why would he not tell you he is alive?" Mycroft enquired from her.

"Because there has to be something he needs to keep secret," Elizabeth said and Mycroft knew that she was close to the truth, but she could not know. No matter how harsh it seemed; he could say nothing. He had to keep her safe. Keeping her safe was the only thing that Sherlock had asked from him.

"Elizabeth, I know you want this to be real," Mycroft promised her. "I know you want him to come back…but it will never happen because he is gone. Those cases are simply coincidences. They do not mean he has returned from the grave."

"But they have to," Elizabeth protested to her uncle, pointing to the laptop. "Because they are the only things I have to keep me going…because I don't want him to be gone…"

"I know it is hard," Mycroft promised her and she shook her head.

"It's impossible," she contradicted him. "I can't let him go, not after I only really found him. You know what it was like growing up…he was never really there or understood me…but recently…I know him. I felt like I grew to know him and how he thinks. I want that back. I want him back."

Mycroft watched as his niece grabbed hold of her laptop, shoving it underneath her arm and leave the room. Leaning back in his chair, he watched her go, his hands moving to his chin as he shook his head slowly and wondered just what he was going to do.

…

John looked over to Elizabeth as they sat in the restaurant. She had explained her crazy theory to him, but he had been unconvinced. They had agreed to meet there and discuss what they should do with the flat. Elizabeth had moved all of her things out and told John that she thought it would be best to end the tenancy with Mrs Hudson. He had agreed, telling her that he would take care of everything. But there was the small matter of Sherlock's possessions.

Mycroft had stepped in, saying that he would dispose of them, but Elizabeth had kept hold of some things, refusing to throw everything of her father from her life.

John picked at the lasagne he was eating in the small restaurant as Elizabeth waited for him to respond to her, but she knew what he was thinking. He thought that she was as mad as Anderson. Perhaps she was, but it was in her mind that he wasn't dead. It was the seed that had spawned into a tree and she couldn't stop it.

"I know it sounds like him," John informed her, nodding his agreement. "It sounds exactly like him, in fact."

"I know," Elizabeth nodded. "And we both know that my dad could do anything. Who is to say he didn't fake his own death? He could have done it and left…thought that he was protecting us from something?"

"You see, that's where you're wrong," John said, placing his cutlery on the side of the plate as Elizabeth chewed on her lettuce and then did the same. "Elizabeth, I know how you feel. I went to his grave and begged for him not to be dead. I wanted that so much…more than you could know…he's my only friend and I like to think I understand him, well some part of him."

"You do," Elizabeth nodded and John shrugged.

"Maybe," he said. "There will always be some parts of Sherlock that remain a mystery, but not one part…not the part that loves you."

Silence engulfed them and Elizabeth peered down to the table as John shifted in his chair uncomfortably, watching how Elizabeth focused on rolling up the sleeves to her white shirt to her elbow as John reached over to place a hand on her arm, trying to comfort her.

"Sherlock loved you more than anything…you were his daughter, Elizabeth," John told her. "And when it came to you then he hid nothing. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. The thought of him faking his death and keeping it from you is impossible. I don't think he could do it. He might have been selfish, but he is not that selfish to see you suffer like this."

Closing her eyes, Elizabeth didn't want to hear anymore. She wanted John to keep quiet. She wanted him to stop talking sense. She didn't want to believe in common sense. She wanted to believe in miracles, just this once.

"Letting go isn't easy," John informed her. "In fact, you never let go, but you do accept it and try to move on. You try to move on and do whatever is possible to make things easier."

"And if you can't?" Elizabeth wondered and John shrugged his shoulders.

"Then you think about what Sherlock would have wanted you to do if he were here," John informed her. "He wouldn't want to see you like this. He would want you to do the best you can with your life. You just need to do that for him."

"I want it to be true," Elizabeth whispered, her voice hoarse. "I so want it to be true."

"Don't we all," John managed a small smile for her. "But it isn't, Elizabeth, and I'm sorry for that."

Elizabeth shrugged his hand away from her and picked up her knife and fork, cutting into her chicken caser salad again as she ignored John's stare. The elder man sighed softly and went back to eating in silence with her, knowing full well that he had to make sure she forgot about Anderson and his conspiracy theories before it drove her to desperation.

…

Sitting in his study, Mycroft held the phone to his ear as he checked the clock. No doubt Elizabeth would be back home soon after her meal with John. She had agreed to meet the former friend of Sherlock after John had claimed that he wanted to stay in touch with her and make sure she was coping well. Mycroft had almost scoffed, but agreed when he had heard from Elizabeth.

"She is horrifically suspicious," Mycroft drawled into the phone as he sat behind his desk. "You need to keep a low profile before she discovers the truth. She's inquisitive."

"It's dull," the voice on the other end complain. "You've sent me on all of these ridiculous missions and most of them end in less than a week. I need to keep myself occupied while I'm waiting for something to do."

"You're making headlines," Mycroft sneered. "It's bad enough your fan club have conspiracy theories, but they're slowly dragging your daughter into them."

"She saw me jump," he replied. "She saw me fall. Why does she believe them?"

"Do you truly need me to answer that?" John demanded, his voice flat as he wondered just how deluded his brother was. "She is your daughter. You are her father. She wants you to be alive and she is willing to believe a group of bloggers that you might be."

"Did you dissuade her?"

"I tried to," Mycroft said. "I do not doubt that she is now talking to John about her theory. Hopefully he can throw her off the scent. That boy she is dating is always telling her not to believe it."

"Ben?" he demanded from him. "Is he back in her life?"

"It would seem so," Mycroft said. "He's been very helpful, I must say. He is always sniffing around here after work…making sure she is coping as well as possible. He does not know why she avoided him nor does he know of Moriarty."

"No doubt Elizabeth will tell him eventually."

"No doubt," Mycroft confirmed. "I can only hope he doesn't run for the hills when he finds out. Normal people tend not to think about mastermind criminals in their day to day life."

"How dull."

"Quite," Mycroft responded. "Regardless, I must implore you to see some sense that coming back here is not the right decision to make."

"Who says I was considering it?"

"I know you," Mycroft replied. "You may claim not to feel anything or care for anyone, but your daughter is not just anyone. Coming home might still place her in danger, as would telling her of your existence. No doubt she would be on the first flight to you if she knew."

"I know," he admitted. "But I cannot be away for too long, Mycroft. I do not want to miss everything so please, do hurry up and try to solve everything rather quickly."

Mycroft chuckled at that. "I will do my best, little brother. I will do my best."

…

A/N: Do let me know what you think!