The day before the trip out to his parent's house, Sherlock spent in the hospital being tested. He left shortly before six in the morning and didn't leave until almost ten at night. He knew that the tests that had been run that day were necessary but he felt he had been poked and prodded within an inch of his life by the doctors that Mycroft had hired. He had also had an EKG, EEG, CT scan, and MRI. He also wasn't sure how much blood and urine they had taken to run but he felt drained of energy even worse than normal. Worse of all, they couldn't even give him answers until everything was analyzed. They just kept telling him that he had to be patient. The answers would come eventually, more than likely filtered through Mycroft first but nothing that Sherlock himself wasn't prepared to hear. His overall weakness would be permanent and he would have to give up being a detective to live. It was something he had been hearing regularly for the last month and he didn't need the doctors to confirm it.
It was a testament to how tired he was, that he actually found himself relieved to see Mycroft's house. He climbed slower than normal out of the car feeling tired and sore. All he wanted to do was a shower before crawling into bed to sleep for the night. Reality crashed down around him, though, as he got closer to the door and could hear Rosie crying. Going inside, he made his way up to her room to find her on the nanny's lap. Her face was red as tears streamed down her face. One hand gripped the nanny's shirt while the other held her teddy tightly.
"What's the matter with Rosie?" Sherlock asked as he approached the nanny. Upon hearing his voice Rosie turned to reach out to him.
"Babababa," She cried holding out her arms. He took her from the nanny and she buried her face into his neck as she continued to cry.
"She has a slight fever but nothing that I am overly concerned about. I think she just has gotten used to you putting her to bed for the last month and didn't understand why you were gone," Nanny Barnett explained.
"I'm sorry, Rosie. Uncle Mycroft thought it would be necessary to have me tested for every disease known to man and I was stuck at the hospital all day," Sherlock informed her. "Now, I know today has been long and confusing but I need to shower. Then I will read to you before we go to sleep." Sherlock gently tried to hand her back to the nanny and Rosie screamed holding on to him tighter.
"Come now, Rosie darling, it is just for a few more minutes while your papa showers," the nanny cooed softly. She took Rosie from Sherlock and Rosie looked at him with betrayal as she frantically made the sign for dad. "Go, she will be fine for a minute longer."
"I'll be right back, Rosie, I promise," Sherlock tried to reassure her. She continued to cry as he left the room. He hurried as he went to the bathroom and turned on the water before stripping out of his clothing. He cut the hospital bracelet off and tossed it in the bin then stepped into the barely warm water. He was quick but thorough as he washed and made sure to keep to his hair care routine. He returned to Rosie's side less than ten minutes later. She immediately reached out for him again and he took her back in his arms cuddling her tightly.
"I'm here now," He cooed to her softly as he made sure she had her teddy before going into his room. He closed the door behind them and rather than lay her in her cot, he held her against his chest as he settled onto the bed. Rosie's crying was calming but she continued to sniffle and whine to make her point of her unhappiness about him being gone as he rubbed her back slowly. Rather than read to her, he instead chose to tell her a story about himself, Mary, and John as they were looking for a criminal together. It was during happier times after John had forgiven him but before Mary had shot him. When he could let himself believe that the three of them could live happily with John by his side as he ignored every sign that Mary was a liar. Mycroft knew though. He had even called Sherlock into his office to try to tell him about Mary's sordid past. Sherlock refused to listen to him then. He had willfully chosen to ignore all the evidence that was stacking up against Mary as he tried desperately to make John happy by helping plan his wedding. It was a mistake that would almost cost him his life.
Sherlock didn't remember falling asleep as he spoke softly but he opened his eyes to find that several hours had passed. The room was now dark and someone, probably Mycroft, had covered him and Rosie but let her continue to sleep on his chest. As carefully as he could, Sherlock gently moved her to her cot and put the bar up to stop her from moving back onto the bed. Rolling over on his stomach, he drifted quickly back to sleep. His sleep was anything but peaceful as he chased a criminal through the streets of London. He was still weak from the damage he caused his body but he still had his brain and he was able to out-think and out-maneuver the man was chasing as he was led to the familiar building of 221 Baker Street. Out of breath, he approached the door slowly.
This part was familiar, he thought, as he opened the door going inside. He ran his fingers along the familiar scratches where Mrs. Hudson had clawed as she was drug up the stairs by the Americans. He would go up there and rescue her before beating the man and throwing him out the window. Only he paused as he entered the room. Instead of the American holding the gun to Mrs. Hudson's head while his two goons stood watch, John sat alone in the chair. He was wearing his army fatigues and had Rosie in his arms.
"I didn't want you to have her," John told him sadly.
"I know but you left and so I am raising her as my own in your place," Sherlock answered.
"Oh, Sherlock she never will be yours. Mary and I are going to raise her together. Isn't that right darling?" John said standing up and holding Rosie against his chest.
"That's right," Mary agreed coming into the room from the kitchen and making her way over to her family.
"You're dead. I watched you die," Sherlock informed her.
"Of course, I'm dead, Sherlock. Just like John, I died because of you," Mary stated.
"John's not dead," Sherlock argued but even he could see that wasn't true as John moved Rosie to the side and Sherlock could see the bullet wound that went through John's heart. Blood stained his clothing and ran down his leg to pool at his feet.
"You made us a vow and you broke it. You couldn't keep me or Mary alive and you certainly aren't competent enough to keep Rosie alive. How long until you are distracted by one of your little experiments and she falls down the stairs? Or until you forget to eat and she starves? What about all the criminals you have sent to prison? Do you really think you can keep her safe from them?" John taunted him. "She is better off with her family."
"I can change," Sherlock argued.
"Goodbye, Sherlock," John told him as the three of them headed down the stairs. Sherlock chased after them but was unable to catch them before the front door closed. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed the handle and pulled it open but the only thing waiting for him was an empty street.
"Rosie," He called as he ran towards the park. She would be there. She had to be there, he told himself. He would collect her and take her home. Not paying attention to where he was going, he darted across the street in front of a black SUV.
He didn't feel the impact of the vehicle as his eyes shot open. The room was just beginning to brighten with the morning sun but a quick glance at the clock told him he still had a couple of hours before they had to leave. He didn't even try to go back to sleep as he rolled out of bed to dress. He made sure that he had everything packed that he would need for Rosie while he stayed with his parents and made sure to have his own clothing and pills packed as well. He took the bags downstairs and left them by the door before returning to Rosie. He woke her gently, giving her a bottle and a warm bath before dressing her for the day. She seemed in better spirits now that she was back to the familiar care of Sherlock and smiled at him as she happily babbled. That all changed as he took her to the black SUV. She was fine as they climbed into the vehicle but seemed confused as he tried lowering her into her car seat. As he did she began to cry and as he attempted to get her seated, she arched her back and screamed. Immediately he pulled her to his chest cuddling her close.
"She has to sit in it," Mycroft informed Sherlock as he entered the vehicle as well. He had his laptop and a newspaper as well as an umbrella. He settled into the forward-facing seat as he spoke to his brother.
"Can't she just stay on my chest like normal?" Sherlock wondered.
"The trip is almost three hours. It is for both your safety that she is in the seat for the duration. Now get her settled so that we can go," Mycroft responded sounding bored. Sherlock turned his attention away from his brother and back to Rosie.
"I know you don't like the car seat, Rosie but I will be right beside you the entire time," Sherlock promised her. He kept speaking gently to Rosie, reassuring her as he tried again to put her in the seat. She arched her back and fought. It took Sherlock almost another ten minutes to get her settled into the seat with her holding his hand tightly in both of hers. The purple dummy was back in her mouth and her teddy was tucked in next to her. With her finally settled, Mycroft tapped the glass and the SUV pulled away from the curb and started on the long journey to their parent's house.