She worried about him; she really did. Ever since they got back from Victor's, Sherlock had been distracted in the worst way. He avoided the subject of the case constantly, and he was trying to keep her distracted enough not to ask. It worked sometimes, but other times, she was left feeling a bit stung that he treated her like she was glass when not too long ago, he acted like she was steel. She didn't like it.

She woke up with a gasp as her eyes met his. She laid in bed as he watched her from a chair near the window. He had gone to bed the same time she had, yet here he was, sitting in the pale moon light acting like a shadow lingering over her. "How long have you been there?" she asked preferring that he was in bed with her then watching her. She found his stare unnerving.

"A fair amount of time," he replied evenly without a trace of exhaustion in his voice.

"You didn't sleep again?" she frowned knowing the difficulty he was having sleeping as of late. She worried. He wasn't eating much either nor was he on a case.

"No," he admitted to her not wanting to lie more than he had to at the moment.

"Sherlock," she uttered painfully. "What's wrong? Whatever it is, you can tell me." She wrapped the sheet around her body before sliding onto her knees onto the floor. She cupped his hands in hers. He looked down at her. He didn't enjoy when she was upset.

"Would you like to break into a museum today?" he asked her quietly. She smiled gently.

"You only take me places when you have something bad to tell me," she replied knowing that there was something rather large on his mind.

"An accurate deduction," he mused at her. Such a clever girl. "I'd like to put off the inevitable a little longer, and I'd like you to enjoy my company a little longer." She smiled before she gingerly kissed him.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes, and no matter what you have to tell me, I will still love you," she assured him and then frowned. "Well, that was positively sweet. I think I might be sick." She stood keeping the sheet wrapped around her. "Come back to bed?" she asked tugging on his hand. He looked at the clock on his night stand.

"It's nine in the morning," he told her. "You don't need any more sleep." A grin slowly spread on her face.

"I wasn't planning on sleeping," she answered.

"Oh," he answered bluntly as he let himself be dragged back to bed by her crafty little hands.

She watched as his hands skipped over the strings of his violin. He's been composing for quite a while now. She had lost him sometime between crawling out of bed and now. She wasn't even sure he was aware of her presence, but when he composed, it was never a good sign. He seemed to be contemplative, but also on edge. Yet, he wasn't on a case.

"Sherlock," she uttered, but he didn't seem to hear her. She continued speaking anyway. "You're scaring me. Whatever it is that weighs heavy on you, I'm right here."

"It involves you," he told her writing down a few notes trying to be as straight to the point and blunt as possible.

"I'm a big girl," she assured him with a sigh tired of his need to walk on eggshells around her.

"I'm aware."

"Sherlock," she sighed walking to him and putting her arms around him as she nuzzled in between his shoulder blades, "tell me what's wrong." Slowly, he set down his violin causing her to let go of him before he turn around and faced her. It was now or never.

"Ginny," he sighed locking his hand around her wrist. He had to tell her, but he would be damned if she ran away. "It's about Victoria." She frowned and tilted her head to the side. He had not said much about the girl in question and wondered what brought this about. She was in for a shock.

"What about her?"

"She's…," he started, but wasn't sure how to say it. It couldn't simply be said, could it? "She's alive." He was never one to beat around the bush. There was a moment of silence as she considered what he just told her. She seemed have frozen to her spot.

"You're mistaken," she replied firmly taking a step from him, but he kept his hand locked around her wrist.

"I'm not," he assured her. "I met her. I spoke to her. Rory is short of Victoria."

"She's playing you," she told him sternly trying to rip her hand from him, but he wouldn't allow it.

"She's not."

"I saw Victoria's body with my own eyes, Sherlock," she snapped starting to become violent. She would break something if she had to, and he knew that.

"No, you saw a glimpse of a girl who looked like Victoria. You never saw the body up close. Am I wrong?" he asked. Her eyes darted back and forth confused trying to deny what he was saying.

"You're not, but I know my daughter, Sherlock, and you are wrong," she growled turning away. He tightened his grip on his hand.

"I won't let you leave," he assured her. "You'll relapse."

"That would be true if you were right," she informed him ripping her hand from him finally, "but you're not. My daughter is six feet under, and believe me, I wish it wasn't so." She turned on her heels to head toward their bedroom door despite his objections. She ripped open the door and slammed it behind her. The door echoed in the flat and in her head bringing her back nearly eighteen years.

Jen glanced up from her sketch book to see the little girl leaning against the door hiding in a blanket wrapped around her. "What's wrong, love?" she asked. The little girl jumped slightly not expecting anyone to be in the room. The girl quickly crawled across the room and pulled herself into her mother's lap hiding against her. She jumped again burying herself further into her mother's arms when the sound of pounding on the door echoed through the room.

"Open up you little brat," she heard Peter sneer, "or I'll break the fucking door down!" Jen sighed and moved Victoria onto the mattress she had been drawing on. Jen marched to the door and ripped it open. Peter feigned ignorance and smiled at his sister.

"I didn't know you were in here," he mused. "I thought you went to town."

"Clearly," she snapped at him. "I've told you a hundred times, leave her alone, Peter, or so help me."

"You shouldn't protect her," Peter argued back. "She makes you weak."

"Like I haven't heard that before," she sighed slamming the door in his face. She had no patience to deal with him. Jen sighed and leaned against the door taking deep breaths. Jen looked back to her bed to see the curly head popped out from under her blankets looking at her. Jen smiled before she quickly walked back to the bed and jumped next to her. Jen snuggled into her. "I know he can be scary," she whispered to Victoria, "but I promise he's not all bad."

"Scawee," she uttered quietly.

"I know," Jen sighed, "but I won't let him hurt you. You know that, right?" Victoria nodded quickly making her smile. "That's a good girl."

"Tiad," she whispered squishing Jen's face between her hands.

"Thankfully you haven't gotten Mummy's insomnia," she smiled at her pulling the little girl's hands away. "Unfortunately, you may have gotten my empathy." Jen sighed.

"Sweep," Victoria told her. "Sweep." Jen laughed and laid down staring at the wall feeling the warmth coming off her daughter's body. "Sweep," Victoria told her again, and the toddler had a special effect on her as she felt the heaviness of sleep fall on her, but her eyes popped wide open.

Raine rolled with her daughter on the bed and ended by giving her a small toss, catching her. The girl let out a scream and laugh. "Mama!" she shouted with a grin.

"How's my little wolf?" she teased kissing the girl's nose. She wiggled her nose in a bit of teasing disgust before snapping out of it for a moment. She frowned and began her objections.

"No, no, no," she shook her head repeatedly.

"What?" Raine demanded with a pout. "Don't you want to go steal Gretchen's cat? She's just asking for it. You always wanted a cat."

"Sweep," Victoria told her. "Sweep. Mummy's tiad."

"Oh, Mummy's tired?" Raine rolled her eyes. "What about me? Am I just chopped liver?"

"Sweep," Victoria ordered again.

"Ugh!" Raine shouted letting herself fall onto her back with a sigh. "As my queen wishes," she sighed. Victoria pulled herself next to Raine and cuddled into her. The woman sighed. She was making her soft.

Screaming pierced her ears causing Jen to sit up straight in her bed. "Victoria?" she questioned looking around in panic for the girl. "Victoria?" she asked again running out her door and to the room next door. She didn't even bother to pause as she threw open the door. She took one step in and slipped in something on the floor. Shaking, Jen clicked on the light to find herself covered in blood.

She started hyperventilating, shaking as she took one glance up to see the dismembered body of a curly haired girl. Jen started screaming turning away unable to look. She heard laughter behind her and looked at Peter grinning.

The scene began to fade. Jen went then Peter and the bed and the walls until all that was left was the little girl's body. Ginny stood next to her and took a step. Sherlock always told her that people take in more than they think on a single glance.

"If you weren't Victoria, I would know," Ginny whispered stepping to her. She glanced at the body and frown. She had etched Victoria into her mind, and this wasn't matching up to her image. "But… but you're not," she whispered. "You're too big to be my Victoria." Ginny felt her heart rate rising. "Oh God," she uttered. "Oh, God." She stumped backward, and unable to stop herself, she began to cry and scream. She should have known.

Rory woke with a start. Sweat dripped down her forehead and covered her. She cupped her hands in her head and took deep breaths. She looked at the bed next to her to see Victor had left her to sleep on her own as he often did. She usually didn't mine it, but tonight, she need his company. She didn't want to be alone; she had been alone too long.

She slipped a robe off her chair and pulled it on before heading out the door. There was a small observatory at the very top west wing tower that he often worked at, and she knew he would be there.

She didn't bother to knock as she slipped inside. She gently put her arms around him. He didn't flinch as he continued looking in his telescope making a few last notes.

"Nightmares again?" he asked turning around and gingerly kissing her.

"Why did you leave?" she uttered looking at him miserably. He felt a pang of guilt sweep through him as he had known she hasn't been sleeping well, and he had known that she wasn't herself as of late. Seeing her mother left her without her usual resolve. The girl he knew was a fire that would never cease to yield, but the last events had changed her from a wildfire to nothing more than a mere candle.

"You know why," he sighed kissing her again. "My work keeps me going, love."

"Come back to bed," she whispered quietly. She was practically begging him.

"I cannot," he said unable to pull himself away from his work. He knew going back to bed would just lead to him staring at the ceiling listening to Rory's breathing for hours. He wouldn't be able to sleep, and his mind would be reeling. He knew that if he spent too much time in such a state he would begin to resent her, and he just couldn't bare the thought. "However, it would be great honor if you stayed up here with me."

"You don't have to," she sighed giving in- an unusual event. "I know how you are when you work." Victor was quick to gently push her in a chair next to him not yielding to agree to her refusal. She watched him for a little bit, and he happily was talking to her about the wonders about the unknown universe. She usually love his riffing; it was romantic in unusual way, and she could listen for him for hours, but her mind was somewhere else. Eventually, his riffing became to much, and her mind began to wander. He wasn't quick to notice, but to his credit, he did notice... eventually.

"Rory?" he asked, and slowly, she turned her attention back to him.

"Hm?" she replied.

"What's wrong?" She didn't answer his question at first, but he knew her well. "It's Ginevra, isn't it?"

"Wonder," she began but paused for a moment before continuing. "Wonder if Sherlock Holmes is right? Wonder if telling her will hurt her?"

"Whether or not it hurts her," Victor answered speaking carefully, "is not really important as any pain she may feel from the revelation will be eclipsed by the joy she will later feel. The pain will go but knowing that you are alive will bring her and you joy, and that will last."

"Perhaps you are right," she admitted looking away. "I would never mean for it to hurt her. I know it wasn't her fault. I just want to know who I am, and my family is part of that."

"I know," Victor nodded in understanding as he leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. A ringing in her robe made Rory jump in alarm. Victor laughed causing her to roll her eyes as she reached into her robe to pull out her mobile.

"Hello," Rory answered with a tilt of her head. She was wondering who was calling her so late. "I'll be there," she whispered shutting her phone.

"Rory?" Victor asked watching her stare at the phone. She seemed a bit at a loss.

"That was Sherlock Holmes," Rory told him. "Ginevra's in the hospital."

The lights to the hospital always seemed to bother her. They were an annoyingly pure white that always seemed to burn her retinas, so when she woke up, she didn't have to be told where she was. It was obvious. She turned her head to the side to watch him. Sherlock was sitting in a hospital chair on her right. He had his hands under his chin in a praying position and seemed to be sleeping- though she knew better. She reached out a hand to wake up to ask what brought her to the hospital when she paused and saw the bandages on her wrists. She felt her heart rate elevate as her breathing became quick and rapid.

"I don't remember this," she panicked pulling at the bandage. "I don't remember this!" Sherlock's hand grabbed hers, and her eyes darted up to him frantic. "I don't remember doing this. Sherlock, I-"

"This time," he admitted, "I don't believe it has anything to do with Raine or Jen. I think this was just instinct."

"My instinct was trying to kill myself!?" she shouted at him pulling her hand from him.

"In moments of distress," he began, but she cut him off with a pillow to his face. He tossed it aside to see her holding her head in her hands in frustration.

"Victoria is alive," she uttered. "How can I call me her... I'm a failure."

"I... called her, Ginny," Sherlock told her. "She's coming here."

"What?" she demanded turning him feeling betrayed that he would do something like that without her knowledge. She wasn't ready for this. "Why?"

"Because she's your kin, and this is the root of your problem," he argued.

"Get out," she ordered him unable to deal with this, or anything for that matter, right now.

"Ginny-"

"I said get out!" she shouted at him. He stood from his chair and left the room making her sigh and run her hand down her face. What was he thinking?

Sherlock paced in front of her door back and forth occasionally stopping to look in on her. She had terrified him. He had heard her scream, and by the time he reached her, she had already made a few horrific lines across her wrists with the broken mirror. She was muttering to herself not quite there. He tried to bring her back to reality terrified that he had lost her. He didn't know what to say to her to fix this. He didn't know if it should be fixed. He didn't know if he should regret his decision.

"Mr. Holmes?" a voice rang out. He looked up to see Rory walking toward him with Victor at her right. He observed their hands. Rory had hers clasped so hard in Victor's, it was turning white. She was nervous.

"Rory," he answered.

"How is she?" she asked him glancing at the door.

"Not well," he admitted. "She's not pleased with me."

"No, I imagine she wouldn't be," Rory sighed knowing what was going through her mind. It took Rory a lot more courage than she had to set her own plans in motion to meet her mother, so it was no wonder why Ginevra was having a hard time. "She doesn't want to see me."

"I'm not sure she knows what she wants," Sherlock admitted. She didn't bother to listen any farther as she gently opened the door and stepped inside the room, but not before gently shutting it keep the two men out. She wanted to talk to her alone.

"I told you to go away," Ginny told her gruffly thinking that she was Sherlock.

"I know you're upset with him," Rory answered making the woman go rigid at the sound of her voice, "but he meant well, and anything you blame him for should really be my blame. Sherlock warned me that you would be upset, but I didn't want to listen, and by giving him the knowledge of who I am, I've guilted him into telling you. So please, blame me." There was a heavy silence that fell across the room. Rory nervously tugged at the edge of her purple jumper hoping that she would say something, but Ginny was in such a state of shock that no words seemed to want to come to her, so Rory spoke trying to fill the void. "I just... I wanted to meet you. I remember a little about you. I... I remember you used to take me to the park all the time and sing to me. I love when you sang to me, but mainly, I just... I want to know who I am, and I thought if I got to know you-"

"No," Ginny interrupted.

"What?" Rory asked thinking that Ginny was denying her the chance to get to know her. "I don't understand. How could you-"

"I felt the same was your age, and it's tragic to say I had the same problem up until... well... recently," Ginny told her. "You don't have to know your blood to know who you are. You seem bright enough to know that." Ginny looked up at the girl to see her face looking back, but she had dark eyes that seemed to go into the depths of your mind. She had an edge to her that Ginny seemed to lack.

"I know... I just... I'm 21 years old, and I've been homeless for most of my life, and I... I'm lost, and I don't know what to do, and I was thinking... well... hoping... that you could help me... somehow."

"You don't need my help, Victoria," Ginny laughed shaking her head wearily. "I mean look at me... I'm a disaster. I tried to kill myself because I found out my daughter is alive. My sort of boyfriend treats me like I'm glass, and I'm constantly in and out of mental hospital. I think I need your help more than you need my help." Rory slowly sat down in the chair that Sherlock once occupied. She put her hand on her mother's knowing how tired she felt. She remembered that too; as a child, Rory always remember Ginevra was tired.

"I could help you," she whispered, "if you in turn help me."

"I'm not sure I can help you," Ginny admitted.

"That's okay," Rory laughed. "As long as you don't... I don't know... turn away from me and call me a stupid, whore, I think we'll be okay."

"Oh, well, with you dating a man my age, I was going to you know make a few crude suggestions," she said causing Rory to start laughing.

"It's really not that bad," she assured her. "You're dating a sociopath."

"It's really not that bad," Ginny repeated cause the girl to laugh again. "Well, at least he's attractive."

"Sherlock or Victor?"

"Both."

"Definitely," Rory agreed with a grin, "cause if they weren't-"

"Agreed," Ginny cut her off knowing exactly what she was going to say. She grinned at the girl making Rory pause.

"I look just like you," Rory sighed. "It's like looking into my future."

"Hopefully, it'll be a little better than mine," she smiled.

"Oh no," Rory shook her head. "I think you underestimate how much you have. You have friends and a lover that would stay by your side even despite everything. You had a successful career, and I'm sure if you so wish it will continue. You have brother willing to die for you, and a lover willing to give up anything just to keep you safe. I think your life is a lot better than you think."

"I think you're a very smart girl," Ginny told her with a smile, and then she groaned and turned over to look at the door before she really began glaring at it.

"Trying to set the door on fire?" Rory asked. "I've tried it on many occasions and have yet to succeed." Ginny smiled and turned back to the ceiling shaking her head.

"Let the stupid idiot back in," she waved her hand toward the door that Sherlock and Victor were constantly trying to spy on them through.

"Want me to give you a word with him?" she wondered heading to the door.

"Please," Ginny agreed as the girl left through the door and was replaced by Sherlock, who stood wondering what her mood would be this time. "I'm not going to kill you. Come here." He stepped up to her bed, and she looked up at him. "I understand the dilemma you faced, Sherlock, and... you made the right decision."

"I thought you... when I found you on the floor, I thought you relapsed, and I... I don't want it to be like this. I don't want to worry about you. I want to get on with my life, solving cases with John, and experimenting on corpses."

"I know," she agreed, "and I'm sorry. I really am. I wish it was... I wish I was normal."

"No," he shook his head. "If you were normal, I would have thrown you out ages ago. I like the twists and turns and the puzzles you present me, but it is taking it's toll on me."

"And do not think I am ungrateful," she panicked thinking he thought the worst of her.. "I could never be more grateful to you. I still want to wring your neck at times, but I do love you."

"I know," he answered. There was a momentary pause before Sherlock did the human thing and inquired about her state. "How are you feeling?"

"... like a weight has been lifted off of me," she assured him. "The storm is over."

"Are you sure?"

"For now," she shrugged. She pulled him down, so that she could give him a ginger kiss before allowing him to stand back up. "Alright, tell her to come back in," Ginny waved to the door. "I suppose I ought to get to know Victoria. She is my daughter, after all." Sherlock turned away from her to go fetch Victoria from the hall.

A/n: Late again, damn it. So next week, I am moving. Yay, but may or may not have a chapter up the weekend of the 23rd. I will try, but you know, moving is hard.

Thanks to reviewers: Dream01 and hannahhobnob. Review please, and I'll see you all hopefully next week.