I laze around the house for a few weeks, doing nothing at all. Dad goes out to work, but I stay in and watch movies. I ignore all the texts from Mary, Sherlock and John. I just cry most of the time. I can't help it.
"What's wrong, Sweetie?" Dad asks me, putting his hands on my shoulders. I throw the tissue in the paper waste bin next to me and sniff.
"I don't know." I cry. "I don't know any more!" I weep. He sighs.
"Listen, baby girl, I think you're depressed." He says. I frown.
"No, I'm not depressed. I'm fine."
"You've done nothing but cry for about two months now." he says.
"Two months?" I gasp. "It hasn't been two months. No way. Three weeks, tops." I say.
"Two months, Sophia. You're depressed." He says. That starts me off again. I begin to sob. "Have you even eaten today?" He asks.
"Not yet. But it's only early. I will later." I sniff, rubbing my nose.
"It's seven pm, Sweetie, and you haven't eaten." He sighs, rubbing between his eyebrows. "I'll get Carrie to make you something now." He gets up and walks away. I'm left, confused. No way has it been two months. Maybe he's right. It's like every day blends in to the next. I'm forgetting to eat. I don't do anything any more. I've kind of given up.
"Here, baby." he hands me a plate with a ham and mayonnaise sandwich on it.
"Thanks," I mutter and begin to eat. He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.
"I'm going to get you a therapist, okay? I have a good one. His name is Frank. He's really helped me and I think he could help you too."
"I don't want a therapist, Dad." I sigh and sit up, finishing my meal.
"Try it and see how it goes. Please. Just once." He pleads. I give in.
"Fine. But only one session." I roll my eyes.
"Baby...?" He asks. I look at him. "Can I have a smile?" he asks. I give up again and smile at him. "Beautiful." he mutters and kisses my forehead. He begins to get up, but I grab his arm.
"Do you ever miss Mum?" I ask him. He looks blank for a moment, and then answers.
"Yes. I do."
"Do you regret making me kill her?" I have become immune to the words now. I can actually say them without wishing I was dead.
"I don't regret anything, Sophia." He says and leaves rather quickly. I sigh.
A few days later, I turn my phone back on. 27 missed calls, 13 answer phone messages and 64 texts. All of a sudden, I'm popular. I sift through the messages one by one. Most of them are off Mary. Asking me where I am, to come home. Some are angry, some are sorry. She has sent at least one a day. John has sent one or two, asking me to come home. Sherlock sent one, apologising. Asking me to come home.
But the one that stands out the most is not from anyone in my contacts.
I am watching you and your father, Sophia Moriarty. Watch out. - MH
It doesn't take a genius to guess that 'MH' is Mycroft Holmes. I should probably tell Dad, but I can't be bothered. Besides, that was from weeks ago.
I really need to do something with my life. I'm literally just a burden right now. I don't have a purpose. I need, like, a job or something. A relationship, maybe. Anything to get me out of this pit I'm in. I'll think of something.
YOU ARE READING
Daddy's Girl
Fanfic"Why couldn't I have had a normal life? Why do you have to be so... you?" // "This is the hand you've been dealt, Sophia. There's nothing you can do about it. Play the game the best you can with the cards you've got. That's all you can do."// "I...
