AN: So that is the beginning of the second part of the story. I am less certain of that part than I was while writing everything that came so far, so reviews will be appreciated. I will try and get Moriarty scenes in it. Hope you would like it.
When she woke up, Sher was in a hospital bed. A guard stood out of her door, most likely Mycroft's doing. The man himself stood in the hall, speaking to one of her doctors. Sherlock and John were nowhere to be seen. She looked at Mycroft for a minute or so, trying to decide whether or not she want to talk to him. Just as she decided the answer was no, he looked at her.
Quickly she turned to the other side and pretended to sleep, but she knew it was no use. She heard him walking into the room and sitting on the chair next to her bed.
"I know you're awake, Sher." He said. She kept her eyes closed. "I spoke to your doctors. They say that they believe the cuts will heal neatly, there might not even be a scar." As no response arrived, he continued. "The Yard are in the warehouse you were kept in. By the time they were there Moriarty was gone, but they're looking for clues." Sher still hadn't looked at him. "Look, I know you don't want me here-"
"Good. That saves me the need to tell you that." Sher replied, her eyes staring at the window on the opposite side of the room from him. "Now go. I don't want you here."
"Sher..."
"Don't." She turned at him, angry. "Don't bother explaining, because I won't listen to you."
"I did what I thought was the best thing for you." He said.
"Maybe it's true." She said. "And you know what, maybe it was best for me. But I simply can't see it now."
"Sher..." Mycroft tried again.
"She said go, then go."
Sher hadn't even noticed John had entered the room until he spoke.
"She doesn't want you here." He told Mycroft. "So leave, before I'll find someone who will make you leave."
Mycroft got up and looked as Sher. "I'm sorry." He said again and left. John walked to the chair where Mycroft was and sat on it.
"That is a terribly uncomfortable chair." He laughed, but Sher was in no mood for jokes. John's smile slid off his face and he sat with her quietly, until she broke the silence.
"What's your daughter's name?" She asked.
John was surprised. "How do you know I have a daughter?" He asked.
"Because of what James... Jim... Moriarty said." She finally managed.
"I hadn't known you were conscious when he said it." John said. Sher said nothing. "Is what he said true?" He changed the subject. "Did you... you two really..."
"I'm nineteen years old. He was my boyfriend. What do you think?" She asked, not elaborating further.
After a couple of minutes, John broke the silence. "Amelie." He said. "She's only a few months old."
"Did you call your wife?"
John nodded.
"Did you told her to run?"
He smiled. "My wife is more than capable to protect herself and Amelie from Moriarty." He said.
"Nobody is capable of protecting himself from Moriarty." Sher said doubtfully. "Unless she's a trained murderer or something of that sort."
"Well, in that case I guess we're lucky." He said, and Sher couldn't but smile.
"Seriously?" She asked and John nodded.
"Hadn't known it until after she was pregnant." He said. "Could have killed her for that."
"Apparently you couldn't," Sher said with a smile and both of them burst into laughter.
Out of the blue, her laughter turned to tears and she started crying. The crazy, uncontrolled kind. And there she was, embarrassing herself in front of this stranger. And she couldn't but hate herself for the fact that all she wanted was James. But there was no James.
Someone crawled into her bed, hugged her and calmed her down and she held on to him, sobbing and tearing. His hand tapped clumsily on her back, as if he is not certain what to do. His voice was soft and familiar and it took her a mere second to realize it was her father. His hands held her, as certain and strong as they were when he carried her away from that godforsaken warehouse. And just as it was then, she fell asleep in his arms.