I push through the officers that stood outside the building. I remove my badge from my leather jackets pocket to reveal my identity to those who opposed me. I ignore the irritating demands for me to wear a blue protective suit. I, however, slide on a pair of white gloves before cascading down the stairs. I could hear the voices converse on the floor above me. Lestrade and the infamous consulting detective. There was another voice that I couldn't exactly pin point.
I release a brisk piece of air from my lungs before turning towards the room that was currently being inspected. I stood at the door, watching the detectives bicker between them before the curly haired one turns to me and says,
"And what is she doing here?"
Things aren't going to be the same when the baby comes, I know, but I know that it will be hard on him. Losing his best friend after only just getting him back. At least he has me, right? I know I'm not much, I'm just the girl he's been dating for the past few years that attempts to help out with cases but remains on the side lines; but I want to help him. I really do.
When I awoke I found Sherlock in the kitchen, experimenting as per usual. I shuffle into the room, grabbing myself a cup of tea before maneuvering into the living room to read the paper. The silence remains between us until the front door opens and closes. I frown. I turn to Sh
The body lay on the ground. Blood trickled down onto the pavement from his head, staining his curls. I push my way through the people, John gripping onto my arms.
"Dad? Dad, please don't be dead," I whispers. I fall to my knees beside him, holding onto his shoulders. "Daddy, please."
Droplets drip from my eyes, plunging down my cheeks. They befoul from my face, plummeting down and hitting my father's. The blood that trekked from his cheeks fell onto his shirt and stained my hands. A set of arms wrap around me and drag me away from him. They were firm but weak. The tears hit me like a train wreck. My entire body shakes the further I am being dragged away. I release a scream, my entire throat dying in agony.
"(Y/N), come here," John whispers, wrapping his arms around me. "Shhh."
I cling onto his jacket, sobbing into his chest as I watch the paramedics remove his body.
They were taking him from me. They were stealing my dad away from me.
- - - - - 2 Years Later - - - - -
"You're home early." She said, with her back turned to him as she wrapped the tinsel around the middle of the tree, making sure it was sitting right before returning to the box of decorations that she had placed on the table.
"How was the case?" She pulled out a long train of silver tinsel and began to continue her decorating while Sherlock ranted about how tedious his recent case was.
"..It was obvious the daughter had done it, no one noticed the pack of cards." He stated, collapsing onto his chair once he removed his scarf and jacket, hanging them in their usual place behind the door.
"Only you would notice something like that, Sherlock." She mumbled, tucking an end of tinsel onto a branch and making sure that it wouldn't fall off.
"Where is John?" She asked, finally turning around to
I stood outside of the door, making sure that I was out of sight. I wasn't entirely sure who he was speaking with, as they had not spoke yet, but it was easy to tell who he was talking about. I don't enjoy being the subject of his conversations. I can't help but feel self-conscious.
Ever since he had returned I scarcely spoke to him. I frequently looked him in the eye but other than that there was nothing. No communication whatsoever. I wouldn't even crack a smile. I had moved all of my stuff back to my old bedroom - with a little help from John of course. When I was at school, John had revealed, that he had managed to rope my father into helping him relocate my things. And I didn't say a word. I locked myself in my room and didn't utter a word.
"Give her some time. Don't force her to speak with you."
It was a woman. I know who it is. I've spoken to her plenty of times over the phone, much to my