Hide and Seek

"Coming! Ready or not!" called the voice of Rosie Watson from inside the living room of 221B Baker Street. She was playing hide and seek with her best friend Alex Lestrade-Holmes, who was hidden somewhere in the flat. Rosie stood still for a minute and closed her eyes, listening. She had often seen her Uncle Sherlock do this when he was on a case. She could hear the dripping of the tap in the kitchen and the faint snoring of her dad in his armchair. She could hear Sherlock clattering away behind the closed door to the kitchen and the faint shuffling of Mrs. Hudson on the stairs. But she could hear someone small shuffling around upstairs. She left the living room and sprinted up the stairs, ignoring Mrs. Hudson's calls to slow down. As her Uncle Sherlock would say, the game was on.

Reaching the landing at the top of the stairs, she was in semi-familiar territory. She knew from photos that this is where her father had lived before he met her mother and it was where she went if she had needed a nap when she was younger. The landing was dark. No natural light could reach it, and Rosie wasn't ashamed to admit, it creeped her out a little bit. Cautiously, she walked along the corridor, looking for any chinks of light where a door might be open. She had to wait until she reached the very end of the corridor until she saw the door that led to her dad's old room, slightly ajar. Smiling to herself, Rosie pushed the door open and scanned the room. It was largely undisturbed. No one had been up here in years. Sheets lay over the bed and other furniture. The curtains were shut, and it was silent. Rosie knew one thing. Her best friend was definitely braver than she was.

Rosie edged into the room a bit more and re-examined it. One of the sheets on the bed was lying at an angle over the bed and dust was swirling around the area, caught in the rays of light streaming in through gaps in the curtains. She closed her eyes and listened again. There was faint scratching coming from underneath the bed and the quick breathing of someone trying not to laugh. Rosie smiled.

"You know, for a Holmes, I would have thought you'd have been better at concealing yourself…" Rosie said out loud to no one in particular, "But I guess not everyone is perfect!" and she walked right over to the bed and pulled up the sheet. But it wasn't Alex under the bed.

"Ollivander?" Rosie was confused. Why was Ollivander, D.I Lestrade's dachshund under the bed in her dad's old room. She had been sure it was Alex.

Just then, the wardrobe door creaked open and Alex emerged, grinning from ear to ear.

"Clever, Watson, very clever. Just not clever enough!"

"You tricked me!" Rosie protested, folding her arms and scowling. "That wasn't very nice."

The four-year-old looked at her best friend and smiled sympathetically, "I didn't mean to. It was only when I heard you on the staircase that I got Ollie under the bed and ran to the wardrobe." She went over to her friend and hugged her, "You're good Ros, very clever. I just wanted to see how clever."

"Hmm. Well, I still say it isn't very nice." Rosie said, but she unfolded her arms. "Can we go? I don't like it up here." She shivered.

"Wait. I found something while I was lying under that bed that I think you would be interested in."

"Unless it involves me leaving, I doubt that very much."

Alex took Rosie's hand and led her over to the bed. She then knelt down and pulled a battered old box from under the bed. Lifting the lid, Rosie looked in. It was full of photos and objects that clearly belonged to her father. Edging a bit closer, she saw a lock of blonde hair, tied by a purple ribbon. It was attached to a note that was written by her mother.

"I don't think we should be looking at this." Rosie said, "Dad clearly kept it up here for a reason."

"Aren't you curious about your mother? I know I would be. If I had one."

"There's being curious and there's being nosy. Right now, we're being nosy!"

"Look!" said Alex, holding up one photo that had Sherlock, Mary, John and Baby Rosie in it. They were stood on the corner of a street. John and Mary were looking at the camera, while Sherlock was looking at Baby Rosie with a look of complete confusion.

"I've never… I don't think I've seen this before." She took the photo off Alex.

"They look happy." Said Alex, wrapping her arm round her friend.

Rosie sniffed. "Yeah they do."

"I reckon you can keep that." Alex said, putting the lid back on the box and putting it back where she found it.

Rosie kissed the photographic version of her mother and tucked the photo into her cardigan, making a mental note to put it in her bag before her dad woke up. Then the two friends walked back down through the flat to the living room. John was still asleep in his chair, Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa. Rosie knew that her bag was down the hall in Sherlock's room, so making the excuse that she needed the toilet, she went and put the photo in her bag.

A little while later, Alex had successfully convinced her Uncle to do some more experiments with her. Currently, they were trying to build a model replica of Yellowstone National Park and hypothesize what might happen if it were to erupt. What they had actually managed to do was make a mess, with Alex's hair streaked with orange food dye. John meanwhile had woken from his nap and came into the kitchen to find the scene of carnage that was the kitchen. He couldn't help but laugh.

"You know Greg is going to kill you when he comes to collect Alex, don't you?" he said, pointing at Alex's orange hair.

"It was all in the name of science, wasn't it, Lexie?" Sherlock asked the four-year-old innocently.

"Correct." She replied, nodding her head and pulling her goggles back down over her eyes as if this settled the matter.

"Where's Rosie?" asked John, looking around, "I thought she would have been in here with you. I know how much she enjoys doing experiments with you."

"I haven't seen her since lunchtime." Sherlock replied.

Alex bit her lip.

"Alex, sweetie, what is it?" John asked, "You won't be in trouble."

"I think I might know where she is." Alex said, putting her goggles on top of her head, "Oh, I didn't mean to be nosy Uncle John, it's just that we were playing hide and seek earlier and I hid under your old bed and well, I found a box and the box had photos and things of you and Aunt Mary and well, I showed it to Rosie and I thought she would be happy to have things of her mum and well, I think that's where she is… in your old room." She paused for breath, "I'm ever so sorry Uncle John, please don't be mad."

John smiled at the little girl who looked to be on the verge of tears, "I'm not mad, Alex. It's my fault for leaving it there." He paused, "Blimey, I'd forgotten about that box, it's from when I first started dating Mary." He looked at Alex, "You did the right thing, kiddo. I'd have been cross if you didn't tell me where you thought Rosie was."

Alex nodded and Sherlock gave her a hug. "Come on, niece, let's get you cleaned up and then we can make Uncle John a cup of tea. I think he's going to need one."

Alex nodded, "Excellent deduction, Uncle." And she jumped off the chair and ran down to the bathroom.

John climbed the familiar stairs up to his old quarters and memories came flooding back. His first kiss with Mary, her first 'sleepover'. He knew that Rosie would have questions about her mother, it was to be expected. The poor lass wouldn't have any recollection of her. But John was reminded each and every day that Rosie was her mother's daughter. It may be in something that she said or the way she acted, or the way her hair was on a particular day. Rosie was as sharp as anything. She was her mother's daughter. And combined with Alex, John chuckled, they reminded him of Sherlock and himself.

His thoughts had brought him to his bedroom door. He peered in through the crack and he saw Rosie, lying on her stomach on the bed, photos sprawled out in front of her. John knocked on the door and Rosie looked up. Her eyes grew round in panic and she tried to hide the photos.

"Daddy?" she said, "I didn't mean… It was Alex… she found…"

John rushed over to his daughter, scooped her up in his arms and held her tight as she sobbed into his chest. "Shhh." He said, stoking her head, "Shh, Ros. It's okay. I'm not cross."

Rosie sniffed and looked up at him, "You're not?"

"Why would I be cross?" he asked, smiling. "She's your mum."

"But I was looking through your things." She said.

John put her down on the bed next to him and smiled, "Yes, I know that, but I left it there and I forgot about it. Rosie, you know you can ask me anything you want to about your mum, don't you?"

Rosie nodded and smiled, "Thanks Dad." And she hugged him.

"So what photos are in here?" and the two of them sat looking at memories of days long ago.

In the evening, Lestrade came to pick up Alex, carrying a sleeping baby Robert in his arms. Alex hugged Rosie goodbye, promising that they would see each other soon for more magic and adventures and left, holding her father's hand. Greg strapped Alex into her car seat in the back of his unmarked police car and climbed in the front. As they pulled out of Baker Street, Greg asked;

"So, what did you guys get up to?"

Alex smiled, "Memories." She said, "Memories and hide and seek."

Greg looked at her in the mirror confused and shook his head, smiling.