Present Day.
John Watson walked briskly through the empty park with his coat collar turned up. His right hand gripped tightly to the envelope in his jacket pocket. Even though he could see his own breath, sweat beaded down his forehead. The call he had gotten for his old friend had been broad but specific at the same time. Meet me in the park, under the tree. Bring it.
John stopped under what he had always called the "Twisted Tree." It's long, chestnut branches reached high into the sky and twisted around each other like ribbons. This is where he shared his first date and kiss with Mary, where he picnicked with his wife and son with James was a boy, and the last place he saw Molly. John sat down on the bench and waited.
From out of the fog, Molly Hooper made a bee-line to the tree. John stood up to greet her, but it was hard to smile. "Molly, it's been a while."
"Yes, it has, John." She flung her arms around John's neck and hugged him. She pulled back and looked into his old wrinkled eyes. "Did you bring it?"
John pulled the aged letter out his pocket and held it up. Molly then pulled an identical letter out of her own coat pocket. Each envelope had their names written on the front in blue swirling letters.
"How is she, Molly?" asked John suddenly, pulling the letter down.
"Oh, John, she's beautiful. If only you could see, Scarlett. She is defiantly, Sherlock's daughter," Molly mused. "Here I brought a picture." She handed him a small photo out of her shoulder bag. John took it greedily. In the picture was Scarlett, young and pretty as ever. She stood by the very same tree, he stood by today. Her black, hair puffed in prefect little coils, he lips bright shining red. John took a deep breath.
"My little girl's grown up," said John handing the photo back. "No wonder my son is all up on her."
"Keep the photo," said Molly. "You deserve it after all these years." John managed to smile as he put the glossy picture in his wallet.
"So, let's talk about why were here," said John somberly. "What to the instructions say to do?"
"You should know, you read them, I'm assuming."
"I do know, but just say it so I don't feel like a nut."
"Mine said to meet here on Scarlett's 21st birthday, which is today. Come to think of it, I'm pretty surprised you remembered."
John waved the envelope. "I've read this letter every night for the past eighteen years, you think I would remember. So what? On the count to three we read them together?"
"Sounds good to me," confirmed Molly.
There were two letters squeezed into their envelopes. Both were written on the same kind of paper and looked the same. The only difference was one had the number one on the outside and the second had a number two. Eighteen years ago, Molly Hooper and John Watson had gotten the notes. The first letter was rather simple. Stating that even though the timing was strange but this was what had to be done and that the reader will go to the 'Twisted Tree' on this very date to read the second letter.
"1...2...3." Molly and John took the letter with the two written on it and read out loud their voices in unison.
"'He's dead. This time of real. But his men are following me, they were ordered a long time ago to hunt me down. I don't want to do this, but I've put her in danger for too long. I have to go into hiding until I am certain that these men will never come near my Scarlett ever again. I never wanted to hurt her like this. But don't you dare think I have completely abandoned my daughter; I've been watching her closely for the past few months and I plan to continue until I die. I want to come home. I want to come home to you John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson. Please watch out her. Please.
"Sincerely, S. Holmes."