Lost And Found

Prologue

John's POV

I place the milk down on the counter and find Mary in the living room, secretly dreading the conversation, "Good day?"

"I s'pose. You?"

"It's been great actually."

"I knew it." She grumbles, taking a sip of tea.

"Knew what?" I question, not really seeing the point in pretending not to know what she's talking about.

"You've been out with Sherlock again?!"

"Well...yes. Is there a problem?" She looks at me expectantly and I eventually click on to what she wants, "I was having a break, you did say I should relax for a while...that's what you said."

"Certainly not for that long! What time is it? Half past eleven?"

"Where's this coming from?" I ask, getting slightly irritated at my wife's approach.

"Well. I'll tell you where it's coming from. You go waltzing around with Sherlock, chasing murderers and shooting criminals while I'm stuck here looking after our daughter!"

"That's not entirely fair..."

"How so?" The words roll off her tongue like poison.

"We had a deal didn't we? I've been looking after her for days, which I enjoyed unlike you apparently. I know it's exhausting but it's your time now."

"And?"

"This is stupid...are you trying to tell me something here?"

"Yes! Actually. I think you should man up and look after the baby properly."

"I do look after Elizabeth properly. She does have a name." I restrain from raising my voice, we've had enough complaints from the neighbours already.

"Barely! Whenever I leave you in charge you won't even leave the room and don't let anyone else get within three feet of her!"

"I have my reasons!"

"What? Your uncle? He's dead!"

"...you know how much I hate talking about him so can we stop please?!"

"I could swear you're turning into him, John."

"Excuse me?"

"You came to bed last night reeking of booze!"

"It was one night Mary! Remember when I told you? It was a work do!"

"Whatever." She grunts, slamming her empty mug on the coffee table.

I turn to leave but my anger takes over, forcing me to re-enter the room and raise my voice, "you know, ever since we came home from that hospital, I've cooked, I've cleaned and I've been shopping, and now I'm not even allowed to go out once?!"

"You did the shopping for Sherlock for how many years so you're used to it anyway!"

"We are not bringing Sherlock into this."

"Elizabeth is more important than Sherlock!"

"I've had enough! And why are we bringing our innocent daughter into this anyway? This is purely between me and you."

"It's not though, is it."

"...this is ridiculous."

"I'm going to bed."

"Of course you are." I mutter as Mary stands up, pushing past me.

"And put Elizabeth to bed. I don't want her crying."

Mary disappears upstairs, leaving me alone in the darkness with only the moonlight seeping through the curtains. I wander over to the small cot in the corner of the room. Elizabeth looks up at me with her big blue eyes,. "Hey." I whisper before picking her up and making my way up the stairs. The room lights up as I flick the switch, constantly finding alternative directions to avoid all of the clutter. I gently lay Elizabeth down and let myself give a warm yet sad smile, "I'm sorry."

I manage to find my way back out of the tiny room and let my fingers linger on the light switch, looking back at the most special thing in my life.

I slip into bed alongside Mary, thinking about what the future holds, good and bad, just like I used to when I was on the front line in Afghanistan.

***

I wake up slowly, frowning at the lack of Mary's prescence. A loud clap of thunder rouses me from my tiredness before I get up and call out on the landing, "Mary?"

Nothing.

I enter Elizabeth's room.

Nothing. She's gone too.

The thunder sounds again, and the rain continues to patter on the roof of our small house. My feet join the rumble of the thunder as I quickly run down the stairs, searching every room, every corner, every closet.

Nothing.

Although whilst I'm frantically looking around, a note on the kitchen counter catches my eye, and I stumble over to it, carelessly grabbing the flimsy piece of paper and unfolding it slowly.

John,
We thought we loved each other, but if anyone looked at us from the distance -even in the same room as a matter of fact- we'd seem disjointed and grotesque. As if there were something that just wasn't right between us.
So, I've decided it's enough, and to give you more chance of forgetting, Elizabeth is coming with me. I think you would agree it's her best chance because let's face it John. You're too nervous to be a parent. Your lifestyle with Sherlock would put Elizabeth in danger. If you got killed, I'm sure she'd rather not know you at all than go through the heartbreak of losing you.

-M.

"No," I mumble, but it turns into raw, raging anger, "MARY YOU- YOU!"

I screw up the paper and throw it across the room, finally allowing the hot droplets of water which I've been holding for weeks roll down my face. I back up against the wall, sliding down onto the cold tiles, trying and failing to choke back the tears; refusing to accept that my wife has just run away from me, taking my precious daughter with her.

Hours pass by until after some time I manage to get the strength to go outside into the rain, not caring at all about getting soaked. I slam the door, locking it with shaking hands, and walk through the dark, empty, wet streets. There's only one place I can just about bear to be right now.

And that place is Baker Street.