13.

After the call came, I stood in the cold for hours. My hands shook with the chill until I finally shoved them in my pockets, wondering to myself about the possibility of it all. I knew that at some point, I would call Dana. I would have to. Without looking up to meet the question in the eyes I knew were watching, I walked to the edge of the street and flagged down a taxi. I asked to be taken to Blandford's, even though the walk wouldn't have been impossible. I needed to sit down and warm up with a coffee and a Danish or three.

My phone buzzed in my pocket several times on the drive over. I knew it was Sherlock. There was no one else that called me, really. My parents had retreated into their own corners to lick their respective wounds. Dana only called to turn my life upside down. And she had done a right job of it, too. I fumed over it as I walked into Blandford's and sat down to wait on my coffee. My fingers were still stiff. I couldn't wait to hold the warm cup against them.

As usual, the service was unbearably slow. And if Sherlock were desperate enough, it wouldn't take much to find me here. While I waited, I might as well face the music. I dialed Dana's number and closed my eyes. I tried desperately to calm my panicked heart even though it seemed fruitless. All my blood was rushing to my head. If I could have drowned in uncertainty, I would have.

"Kat?" Dana answered. Techno music blared in the background. "Hang on, let me go outside." She shuffled the receiver around with promises made to someone I didn't know that she would return. Finally, there was silence. She'd stepped out into the open air. "I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon. Are you okay?"

"Well, I…" I wondered if I should lie, but she would know. She knew me too well. "I wanted to go ahead and get this over with. Providence called. They want me to fly in for an interview."

"Is this good or bad?" Dana questioned. "It sounds bad when you say it like that." She sounded a little disheartened, but I tried to ignore it. There was a small victory to be had in the fact that I was beginning to speak my mind. Whether she liked it or not, it was what was best for me in the end. I was doing her no favors by pretending I appreciated her meddling in my affairs.

"Look." I said, sighing. "New Year's is coming up. I can take a few days from work and fly in, explore the city a little. I can interview and check out your place. I can try and see if I would be happy there. Before you say anything, know that this is the best compromise I've come up with. Dana, honestly, I don't know if I want this job. However, I also don't know that I don't want it. Thanks to your little speech about my miserable life."

"I'm still sorry about that, by the way." Dana sounded a little shamed. "I really didn't mean it as harsh as it came out. But I'm glad you're at least giving it some serious thought – and I like your plan. It sounds practical. Very Watson of you, to know what you're getting into before you jump."

Less John of me, really. "Yeah." I mumbled. "And you're right. You'll be there, it isn't like I would be alone. I can stay with you, see if I can stand to live with you."

Dana paused, sucking on her teeth in the receiver. "Right. I deserved that one."

I laughed to myself. "I just mean… I'll try it out." I ran my fingers across the table, lost in thought. I did have one last request, but I wasn't sure how Dana would take it. "And I… please don't tell your mum about any of this."

"Like I'm that stupid." Dana snorted. "If I tell my mum, she'll tell your mum, and then we'll never hear the end of it."

An invisible weight lifted from my shoulders. "Right. I don't want to sound the alarm when I haven't made any solid decisions just yet."

Dana made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded like something akin to agreement. "But, aren't you even a little excited? You totally miss me. You know I'll make sure you fall head over heels in love with this place just to get you here."

"We'll see." I said, shrugging my shoulders though she couldn't see it. I glanced up just as my coffee was slid onto the table in front of me. I mouthed a thank you and took a sip, going back to my conversation.

"I am dying to ask. If you aren't telling your mum, what are you going to tell your flatmate?" Dana twisted the word so that it was very nearly obscene.

"Nothing." I said it a little too quickly. "Why does he need to know anything?"

"So, you're telling me that you're going to book your flight, pack, and leave and not give him anything reminiscent of an explanation?" Dana asked incredulously. "Katherine Watson. Even I know you better than that."

"Don't use that tone on me. I hate that tone."

"Which?"

"The one that makes you sound like my mother." I said, scowling. "It's horrible. I hate it. "

"Okay, let me try it this way, then." Dana started over, such was her good humor. "It would be so much easier on you to have the conversation now. Imagine getting here and, by some miracle, loving Seattle and loving Providence and wanting to stay. What then? You blindside him and leave him without a flatmate and your considerable income coming in to help pay the bills."

"It won't help anything, Dana. Trust me. It just won't." I insisted, blowing out a breath through my nose. I sounded tired, resigned to something I couldn't define. "You don't know how much it would hurt him."

Hurt us both, I wanted to say. It would be devastating to everyone involved if I acted irrationally. And though Sherlock enjoyed his solitude and a relative amount of silence, I knew that this business venture of mine would come as a shock. It was still shocking to me even if nothing was certain. But I knew that Dana's thoughts would veer in a different, and no less true direction. There was a long, telling silence on the other end of the line. I could almost hear the gears turning in Dana's head. She was having a moment, putting every piece of the puzzle together in a way that only she could. I knew I was caught before she ever started to speak.

"You like him." She murmured. "I don't know how I didn't see it before, but you like him."

"I don't." I tried to argue but it came out in a squeak. Not at all convincing. "I really just think it unnecessary to get everyone worked up over an idea. That's all."

"You do so, or it wouldn't be this huge deal. All you talked about for years after John left home was getting out of London. You didn't care how you did it, as long as it happened. And now, with the opportunity lying at your feet, you've suddenly gone soft. You've gotten all cozy at the thought of spending the rest of your life on Baker Street. My God, I'm such an idiot. Why didn't you say anything, Kat?"

"Firstly, I have not gone soft." I stood up for myself as much as I could without sounding like a liar. "That's wildly untrue. Secondly, I can't talk now."

"Why not?" Dana demanded.

"I don't want to." I said. She ignored the comment entirely.

"When are you going to start being honest with yourself, Katherine?" Dana asked, plowing ahead anyway. I laid my cheek on my hand, listening to her yammer on with a long-suffering patience that one can only have with their best friend.

"Why does this mean so much to you? I don't even know what to make of it all. And I don't know what you expect me to say. It isn't like I've been actively misleading you."

"It isn't that I think you've been trying to keep this from me. I honestly don't know how you can – I don't know – deceive yourself the way you do. It makes me absolutely furious. I was at the Christmas party, you know. I saw him, watching you the way he did. Molly kept trying to get his attention. And the only person he had eyes for was you."

"His brother –"

"I know all about Mycroft." Dana said. "I saw that, too. I'm telling you, Kat, there's more to it than that. I think you feel it. And if you use Seattle as an escape plan, to get away, to deny yourself closure, I promise that you'll regret it for the rest of your life. You can't grieve forever. You have to stop punishing yourself."

"For what, Dana? What do you imagine I'm punishing myself for?"

"For living, Katherine. You're punishing yourself for being alive."

You don't have to live in his shadow, Katherine. It's okay for you to create a life for yourself again. No one will think any less of you for it.

I blinked, unable to find the words necessary to fight back. Or perhaps I knew better than to try. Once again, Dana had stripped me down to the bone and left me reeling. There was no argument for that. After a beat too long, I found something to say. "I'm not going because I'm running." I told her softly. "I'm going because I want to see if I have the capacity to want more for myself."

"I know you do." Dana replied gently. "And it will come back to you."

"And, I – I do feel it." I said. My voice was barely above a whisper, drowning in the din of the restaurant. "But I don't have it in me to – to let it get away from me. I don't have any room in my heart for that right now."

"Do you think it would happen? That you would love him, if you stayed?"

I closed my eyes, trying to quiet the truth unsuccessfully. "Yes. I think so. In a lot of ways, I do already."

Dana hesitated. "You aren't in love with him. You don't want to be."

"I won't survive it." I said. I could feel my throat steadily getting tighter, as if I might break down into my coffee cup. "You know what he's like."

"I know what he's like with most people, sure." Dana said. "But no one, not even you, knows what he might be like in love. It's alright to be afraid. And I think knowing what you do, seeing that there's this door you could walk through if you wanted to… I mean, Jesus, I would run for the hills."

"Really great case you're building here, Dana."

"Enough cheek from you. I'm trying. I just think that as terrible as Sherlock can be with most people, I've seen enough to know that he is capable of being different with you. You could be happy."

"I don't remember happy." I said. "I'm only just starting to know peace again."

Instead of accusing me of being morose, Dana considered what I was saying. She took my loss into account, realized that I was having to learn how to live my life over. That consideration showed in what she said. "You know something? I think finding a small measure of peace is a good place to start." She replied. "Take your time. Get to know it and go from there."

Get to know it and go from there.

I wouldn't tell Dana, but I thought that was just about the best advice she'd ever given anyone. I looked down at the table, watching the way the light threw shadows around my cup. After a long silence, I looked up, out toward the window beyond my booth. Standing there was my father, hand raised in a hesitantly shy greeting. I waved back, too stunned to smile. I could only think to get off the phone.

"D, my dad just showed up. Talk later?" I asked.

"Absolutely. I love you, Kat. You'll figure it all out. Call me later if you want."

I told Dana that I loved her and hastily hung up the phone. I wished I had more time to talk to her, but I suspected that my father had appeared outside Blandford's for much the same reason. To start a conversation I wasn't yet able to finish.

My father ducked in the restaurant with a humble grace, brushing the last drizzle of rain from his coat. He waved off the hostess and made his way to where I sat, still nursing my dwindling cup of coffee.

"What brings you to my side of London, Dad?" I asked, smiling at him as he made himself at home.

He shrugged. "Your mum is out looking for flats. I do admit, however, that this was not my first stop."

I stared at him in confusion. "Not your first stop?"

"I popped by your flat and knocked. Mrs. Hudson seemed to be out, so your friend came to the door instead."

My mouth went dry. "Sherlock came to the door?"

"Must have seen me walk up through the window." My father shrugged. "He told me you'd gone hours ago, said something about a phone call. When I asked where you might be, he said to try here first. Told me you like the coffee."

A blush creeped its way up my neck and into my cheeks. I hadn't realized Sherlock had even noticed anything like that. I opened and closed my mouth several times before I could think up a halfway decent response. "Yeah, I do." I admitted, blowing a heavy breath out through my mouth. I pushed the cup away. "Just don't seem to have the taste for it tonight."

"KW." He said softly, looking from the discarded drink to my face. "What's going on? If I didn't know better, I would say something is bothering you."

"Dana overstepped her boundary again. She put in an application for me at a hospital in Seattle. She's working there now at a law firm and wants me to start fresh, have something of my own." I shook my head. "It's not really anything I would have done for myself."

My dad leaned back against the booth, a thoughtful look on his face. "That is a lot to think about, I'll give you that. And it is far."

"Too far." I said quickly. "It's ridiculously far."

"But I do think that Dana has a fair point, KW. It would be fitting for you to grow, to get away from this place and have something that's yours."

I balked. I hadn't expected reason, I had expected a fair amount of clucking and protest at the distance. My father, however, was not my mother. And at this point, I wasn't sure that even she would mind enough to fight over it.

"I could do that here." I said, but even I could hear the lie.

"I believe, darling, that it would be a good idea to give it a think. You have time, don't you?"

I hesitated one second too long. "That was the call, Dad. They want me to fly in for an interview soon. I'll be there before the New Year."

That seemed to sufficiently alarm him, at least. But after a moment, he mastered his expression and sighed. "I knew someday I would have to let you go. And this is good, darling. It's very exciting that they're interested in you and want to see if you would be a proper fit for the job. I suppose I'm wondering why it doesn't excite you, too."

"I don't know, Dad. I have a life here. I have a good job and a routine and family and – I just – I'm not sure that I want to go. I'm not ready." I ran a hand over my face. I felt suddenly tired, as if I had aged a hundred years and couldn't remember where the time went.

"Doesn't have anything to do with the coffee?" My dad asked, peeking at my face carefully.

I looked him right in the eye, flabbergasted by his ability to hide intent behind innocence. He wasn't asking about coffee at all. I leaned back and crossed my arms. "Definitely not the coffee." I said.

"It is good. Very polite. A gentlemanly veneer." He pushed, still watching my face.

"And irritating and infuriating and absolutely hopeless with neckties." I muttered, scowling now. There was no point in pretense if he was going to be just as pointed.

"Ah. So, it is partly the coffee." He said, chuckling.

"I don't want to –" I stopped myself and put my head in my hands, elbows on the table. "I can't hurt him. When I arrived, that flat was exactly how it had been before… and I feel for him more than that. Just leaving without warning. I would hate myself."

"Sherlock seems sensible enough. I'm sure he would understand."

"That's just it. He wouldn't. He has a little box in his head, alright? And that's where he exists. Anything outside of it is throwaway, illogical. He thinks that I'm sufficiently happy where I am, therefore I have no reason to want to leave."

There was something that came over my dad's face that made my stomach do a little somersault. I imagined that the thing that had clicked for Dana over the phone was now also coming together for him. I was telling on myself without meaning to. I needed to go home and go to sleep. That way I would be in no danger of opening my mouth to cause further damage to life as I knew it.

"Are you? Happy?"

I sighed. "I don't know. No. Yes. I just – his life, Dad. I can't connect with it. It's something strange and separate and lately it's been bleeding over into everything else. I'm not saying this to worry you, or make you think that you should be. But I really think that I'm getting in a little over my head here."

His eyes narrowed. "I won't tell you what I think you should do, Katherine. I think that you already know. And you don't need this old man trying to steer you in any one direction. However, if you feel this way… I do worry. I know you, darling. You would never say something like that without cause."

He had me there. I was notorious for downplaying the serious and keeping the safe totally to myself. I really couldn't deny what he was saying. I wanted to, if only to save him the many sleepless nights I knew were coming. My dad was a worrier. Probably more so than my mother.

Before I could try to comfort him, he started to speak again. "I also worry that you might stay clinging to a sinking ship, simply because of who might also be on it." He worded the blow carefully, but it stunned me regardless.

"You know me better." I said. My voice was quiet, and I found that I couldn't meet my dad's eye.

"KW, you have always possessed good judgement. Even as a teenager you were far too sensible. I never saw you with anyone that challenged you, made you really feel something. They were all nice boys, but none of them ever had the potential to truly win you. And I believe, darling, that you may have finally met your match."

I lamely attempted an argument. "Sherlock is incurably emotionally stunted. You would know if you really were around him. And his brother is even worse. Even if I did – he would never know. And I can almost guarantee he would never return the feeling."

My dad, somehow, was smiling. There must have been something in the water that day. Everyone was seeing something I couldn't. "Mmm." He hummed. Just like Sherlock.

I put my head back in my hands. "Oh, Jesus. I need to make an appointment with my therapist."

He threw his head back and laughed. I startled, half in surprise and half in wonder. I hadn't heard him laugh in months. "Save yourself the money, KW, and go home. Finish your coffee and go back to your life. Have a think. Read a book." He stood from the booth and leaned over, plopping a kiss on the top of my head. "The rest will come with time."

I took hold of his arm, unable to keep myself from asking the one question that had been plaguing me from the beginning of the conversation. "Dad. If I move away… what about – I mean – you and Mum?"

A look of tenderness overtook my father's aged face. He sat back down, shaking his head. Lovingly, he took both of my hands in his own. "That is not for you to worry about." His eyes shone in the dim light of the restaurant. "My sweet soul, my daughter. Your Mum and I are not any burden for you to take on your shoulders. Our story might yet run its course. I understand how difficult it must be, how strange it is for you to see us like this. But whatever happens, you must remember that she gave me two beautiful, bright children and nearly thirty-six years of happiness. I will love her always. And you cannot let what is brewing now between your Mum and I make you hesitate for a moment to take any kind of leap. Whether it takes you to Seattle, or… keeps you here."

I wiped at my face, nearly unable to speak. Something eased off my chest, and I realized that I was breathing easier than I had in a long time. "I just want you to be okay." My voice broke.

He squeezed my hands gently. "Okay is relative right now, darling. For all of us. All I ask is that you live your life." My dad got to his feet again and shrugged on his coat. He winked at me, smiling with half of his mouth. Just like my brother. "And call me tomorrow, perhaps. I'm trying to take up baking. Must make sure I don't burn down the house."

My father left with the same quiet grace with which he had arrived. He cut a familiar figure through the rain and I saw him, instead of waiting for a lift, start strolling as if there would never be any hurry. I wondered at him, aching at the depth of my feeling for the person that raised me. The man who knew me better than anyone and loved me twice as much. I lost a little bit of time dreaming of him as I'd known him when I was a child. Before time and anguish had colored his hair white and put so much sadness in his eyes.

I watched the window long after he'd faded from view.

I walked home in the rain, allowing myself to take a moment to breathe. It was freezing but I never thought to feel the cold. My mind was a thousand miles away with Dana. And then it was with my father in our empty house. Then with my mother, out looking for a different place to live. As I neared my home, 221 B, I heard the faint sounds of violin music begin to wind down.

Without waiting for it to stop, I jogged up the steps and went inside. My shoes and coat were absolutely soaked. Even my hair was damp underneath my hood. I knew Sherlock would say something snippy about tracking water all through the flat. I prepared myself for it all the way upstairs. But even before I could fit my key in the lock, the door was wrenched open.

Sherlock took in my disheveled appearance, blinking slowly. "Not your best idea, I think. Walking home in the rain." He said.

"Agreed." I said tiredly. "I'm really cold. D'you mind letting me in?"

Sherlock moved immediately, reaching out to yank my wet coat from my shoulders. He took it to the laundry without my having to ask and came back to find me standing exactly where he'd left me. I was gaping, confused and cold and grateful all at once. "Katherine." He said, staring back at me.

"Sorry." I pointed toward the kitchen. "Thanks. I'm going to put on the kettle." I walked away, shaking my head.

"I assume your father found you." Sherlock said, following me step for step.

"He did." I stood up on my toes to open the cabinet where we kept the tea and found… more. Actual groceries. I opened another cabinet. More food. The fridge was stuffed full. I turned around to face Sherlock, gesturing to the kitchen. "Did you shop?"

He leaned against the counter, rolling his eyes. "Clearly. Next time, you go."

I found myself grinning at him openly. "Bored, were you?"

"It is absolutely mundane." He said and began a long-winded explanation about the existence of dim sum and how we should begin to utilize it. I tuned out, though I continued to look at him, smiling all the while. When he noticed the look on my face, he paused. "Brilliant, yes?"

I knew that he was mocking me, interpreting the smile on my face as overwhelming fascination with his impassioned argument for takeout. Instead of trying to come up with a quip to throw back at him, my smile only grew. "Always." I said.

Sherlock looked stunned. I couldn't help but think that now was the perfect moment to tell him about Dana and my interview. If I waited, I would back out and regret it. I forced the smile from my face and began chewing on my lip, trying to think of how to begin.

"Sherlock…" I tried. "I, um… I think there's something we need to talk about." I kept my eyes on the counter, away from his face. I could feel him watching me with great interest as I spoke. "It's about my job."

"Your job?" He sounded curious and must have realized it. He began busying himself with the kettle, working around me. Avoiding my eye now, too.

"Dana called yesterday. She mentioned a position in the States. In Seattle, actually." I pretended not to notice the way he stilled. I soldiered on. "I think I'm going to go interview for it. They want me to. They called a little while ago."

It was quiet for a long time. It was obvious to me that Sherlock was trying to figure out what to say. My news was untimely, I understood that. But the longer he went without speaking, the more I could feel my nerves beginning to fray. My palms began to sweat. My throat went dry. My heart was racing; I was burning. "Sherlock?" I tried so hard to keep my voice from shaking. "Can you please… what do you think of that? Anything?"

"You should. You should go for the interview." He said, switching on the burner. He never once looked at me.

I knew as soon as it was out of his mouth that it hadn't been the answer I wanted to hear. I wished that he would argue. I wished he would ask me not to go. Instead of saying any of this, I nodded my head.

"I should." I said.

"Right." He agreed. "Good luck to you, then."

"Uh… thanks." The words found their way out of my mouth, but I was already somewhere far away. "I don't know if I'll get the job, or if I'll want to take it. Just in case, though, you might want to start looking for a new flatmate while I'm gone. I'll be headed out a little before New Year's."

"I think that would be best." Sherlock answered. He was quieter than I had ever heard him. I hoped that he would turn around, show his face so that I could read it. He continued fiddling with the kettle. "I appreciate the warning."

"Good. That's… good."

"Yes. Good."

"Right." I said. I could feel the tears coming, much as I tried to keep them at bay. "I actually, I don't much feel like tea anymore. I think I'll change into dry clothes and try to sleep." I stepped away from him, toward the living room.

Sherlock raised a hand in goodnight. Still, not once, did he turn to look at me. I spat out some semblance of a goodnight or goodbye and tried not to flee to my room. I don't think I did a very good job of it. As soon as the door was shut safely behind me, I threw myself on to my bed and shoved my face in a pillow.

I tried to convince myself that this was a good thing. Living with Sherlock for the time being was steadily growing more and more dangerous. Moriarty had come straight to the front door. There was a police detail sitting on our street, watching the flat. A part of me, infinitesimally small, wanted Providence to work out. I wouldn't mind living with Dana.

It could be no worse than existing here.