Let me give you guys a cyber hug for the sweet reviews :)

If the suspense is driving you mad already, I've got bad news for you... because there are many more chapters to come :D But for now, let's have a little look into John's past.

Chapter 11

One thing John had realised early on was that his new pet was almost impossible to tire out. Even though they had already been walking for a while, Odin was still chasing every stick he threw with a sense of diligence John almost admired him for. His old bones were tired after a long day at work and he would love to know where this dog got the energy from. Then again, Odin had probably spent the day snoozing on his blanket while John had nearly broken his brain over the Jane Doe case.

Some days, John wondered how his father had done it. Even in his 70s, he had still worked for the police up until a few months before his death and somehow, he had found the time and energy for an agile pet. Was keeping Odin yet another way of trying to prove to his father that he could keep up? That he was just as good? That his father had underestimated him all his life?

John scoffed at the thought of it. His father was dead now and he could do whatever the hell he pleased. He had been able to do that ever since he had moved to London, but no matter how hard he tried not to think about it, a part of him always wondered whether he was good enough for Malcolm Smith. It was no surprise to him that Kate and everyone else had idolised his father. Even though John had inherited his brusqueness and lack of social grace, Malcolm Smith had been a great detective and a valued member of the community and his son was nothing but the next best replacement. After years of trying to prove that he was just as good as his father, he now had a new audience to prove himself to and the case of the mysterious Jane Doe was the perfect place to start. But what would happen if he didn't crack it? After all, it wouldn't be the first time.

17 years ago

John stepped into the office, already knowing what would happen next. He and his boss had had that conversation multiple times already and by now, John could recite his sermon by heart. It didn't matter to him anymore. It didn't matter what anyone thought. Three years and he still hadn't found her – that was all he could focus on.

His boss sat behind his desk, his nose buried so deep in a report that John felt almost bad for interrupting him even though this meeting hadn't been his idea at all. DCI Ray Simon was someone he had always hated to be around and John couldn't even say why. John often came across as rude, but he never failed to show kindness when it was truly needed. Simon wasn't like that. His boss was ruthless and had very little empathy. His colleagues often talked behind his back, exchanged stories about what a hero Simon was, but how cold and lacking in compassion he was. They even said that when Ray Simon lost his hand in a brutal fight with a serial killer, he didn't even scream. Instead, he used the stump to bring down the murderer. Now, John could see the lifeless prosthetic on his desk, disguised underneath a glove and he wondered whether it even bothered Simon at all, whether he could feel something as human as pain.

"Glad you could make it," Ray Simon said in a tone completely void of emotion. A normal person would have started with a hello, but not him. "Sit down."

It wasn't a question, it was an order and John didn't think he could afford to challenge him on something as small as this, so he took a seat on the other side of the table. Again, John's gaze wandered towards the gloved hand and he found himself wondering what it looked like, what it would feel like to an ordinary person that wasn't Simon. He also wondered how old his boss really was. He had been old when John had started this job and he was old now and somehow, he didn't doubt that Simon would die at this desk because retirement was out of the question for a man like him. No one knew about Ray Simon's personal life or whether he had one at all, but John didn't doubt that the job was what he was living for and if was necessary, he would die for it, too. Sadly, John Smith knew that kind very well because his own father was like that and suddenly, he was afraid that Malcolm Smith was going to find out what was happening right now, find out about John screwing up.

In a swift movement, Simon put down the file and directed his gaze at John, catching him off guard so he couldn't look away from the prosthetic hand in time. Naturally, his boss noticed. "If you're going to ask me a personal question about losing my hand, I'd advise against it," he barked.

"I wasn't going to," John replied sharply, looking Simon straight into the eyes. It dawned on him that this wasn't the normal lecture he had heard before. No, today was about something else and John, despite being a good detective, had no idea what it could be.

With a sharp intake of breath, Simon leaned back in his chair. He hesitated for a moment, but John knew that it wasn't because he was looking for a sensible way to start. Simon wasn't the sensible type. "I saw that you've applied to take a leave of absence. Again."

John nodded. Something told him he wasn't going to get it. "That's right," he replied. "It shouldn't take long. Not more than a month."

"No," Simon said simply. "Because it's not going to happen at all."

John was ready to rise from his seat and complain, to explain to his boss why it was so important and why he just had to go, but he thought better of it.

"During the last three years, you've been absent from your job for 15 months," Simon explained even though it was unnecessary. John knew exactly how much time he spent here and how much he hadn't. He still kept count. "I know that it was hard for you, I know you want to find her, but don't you think that it's time to let it go?"

"I have a new lead," John said, the urgency audible in his voice. Somehow, he had to convince Simon that it was worth it, that this time, he would succeed. "I found a witness who claims to have seen her. I need to travel there and see for myself."

"Just like the last witness who only wanted the money and turned out to know nothing?"

Not knowing how else to make his point, John slammed his hand on the table while he rose to his feet. "I have to go!" he almost yelled at his boss. "I have been working this case for three years, I can't let it go now! Not when there's finally a lead!"

"The case is closed!" Simon barked at him more loudly than John had anticipated, but it was the words that surprised him even more. He needed a moment to let it sink it, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't wrap his head around it. It couldn't be. Then, Simon sighed audibly. "You're a good detective, John, and I know that you're personally involved, but I can't afford to waste any more time and men on a wild goose-chase like this. After three years, we just have to assume that she's dead."

John shook his head frantically. "No, someone saw her, I know it. I have to talk to the witness."

"John, if you take that leave of absence, it's going to be a permanent one," Simon stated plainly and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

There was a long pause between the two men and John merely stared at him in response while the truth was finally beginning to settle. Ray Simon was closing the case, the only one that had ever meant something to him not only as a detective but as a man. John couldn't allow that to happen, he couldn't allow to let it go, not now, not ever, even if it meant losing his job. In fact, the longer he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. He would have all the time in the world to look for her until he could bring her home.

"You're firing me?" John thought he should still ask just to be certain. "I'm your best detective!"

"You used to be," Simon corrected him. "Until you started chasing ghosts. Now you're useless to the department."

Slowly, John nodded and he prayed that the news wouldn't travel as far as Scotland. That would prove his father right at last.

"The decision is yours. You can leave and look for her or you can stay and focus on the people who actually need your help," his boss said in a calm manner.

John took a deep breath. The decision was an easy one. "I'll clear out my desk," he replied and turned around, leaving the office without even looking back once.

Once he stepped back inside the house, the ringing of his phone alerted John and he approached the device, somehow already knowing that the police station was calling him. Hoping that they had finally made a breakthrough in the Jane Doe case, he answered the call.

"Detective Inspector Smith." The voice of the young officer was quivering a little as he spoke. "I know you're off duty right now, but something happened and it's close to your house. We thought you might want to take a look yourself before we sent someone from Kirkwall."

John frowned at the phone in response. "What happened?"

"We received a call about a break-in. Nothing major. Nothing really bad. But we should have a look."

John inhaled deeply and considered his options. He didn't really care about anything that wasn't related to Jane Doe, but he realised that break-ins would also be part of his job description sooner or later. But did he really have to deal with them after his shift had already ended? "Alright," he agreed eventually. At least it gave him an excuse to stop dwelling on the past. "Where was the break-in?"

"Clara Oswald's home."