A Case of Identity [Sherlock S4 Fanfic]

Part 3 - The Ethanol Solution is the Solution

Mary took her anger out on the kitchen floor. The more she scrubbed, the more that she felt better about the whole situation.

"How could this not be my child?" John had shouted. "What did I do to deserve you?! You don't even stay loyal! And to Moriarty?" And he had stormed out. Left her.

Mary kept scrubbing the floor of all the water splashed from a glass being swiped off of the kitchen side. Her head was so full of the argument that she didn't hear the back door open. The voices in her head shouted over another man entering her house. But it wasn't her head that drowned out the screams of her child; that was the works of someone else.

The floor started to shine so much that she could see her own face in it; taut and pale. The argument had taken a lot out of her. As well as motherhood.

"Being a mum is hard," she sighed, drying off the floor so that she and the dogs wouldn't slip. "Even with two dads. And now they have both gone." She looked longingly out of the window, trying to forget that fatal night that caused all of this trouble. The memory of that case that had destroyed her family. It haunted her every dream, standing in the back of her mind as she tried to shut it out. She had succeeded for so long, but now that had all failed. Resulting in her husband walking out on her. Again.

This had happened before, about something else in her past. Mary sighed, leaning against the sink of support.

"Will John ever forgive me?" she said to the empty house.

She decided to go and check on her daughter, bringing her a juice cup. But her bedroom was empty. Books on the solar system and simple multiplication were strewn around, as if there had been a struggle. The cot was empty, and one of the blankets was missing. Her clothes were hanging out of the cupboard, as if someone had packed in a hurry. But there was no sign of anyone, or anything, ever being there. The room was silent. Deathly silent. No happy murmurings or humming. Nothing.

Mary reached for her phone, trying to contact her husband and notify him of their missing child. Her missing child she corrected herself. She seemed to be the only one to be caring for this child now, and she had let him take her.

"Oh Harriet, what have I got you into now?" she whispered quietly, waiting for her phone to connect.

John had stopped off on the way back to Bakers Street to grab a couple of beers. His only solution to drown his sorrows was to literally drown them. His liquid of choice? Alcohol.

"Come on Sherlock. Have a beer." He tried to push it into Sherlock's hand, Sherlock pushing it away.

"John, it's your beer. And besides, I don't see what you are so sad about, let alone why you are trying to drink a flavoured solution of ethanol to find a solution."

"Ha ha, very funny. It is the solution that is the solution. I see what you did there." John started to sip at the liquid, feeling it trickle down his throat as it warmed his insides. Not that his insides needed warming; they were already alit with the fire of rage built up inside. Taking a swig, then another, his problems seemed to fall off him like water off of a duck's back.

Sherlock was soon drinking his tea and listening to John shout and scream and cry about his wife. His face emotionless, each sip of tea in rhythm with the next. Police sirens come and go, but John's anger was unchanged.

"HOW COULD SHE MARRY ME WHEN IT WASN'T EVEN MY CHILD? IS EVERYONE THAT I KNOW A PSYCHOPATH? WHY WOULD MORIARTYOF ALL PEOPLE BY MY CHILD'S DAD? CORRECTION, HER CHILD'S DAD. THAT CHILD IS NO DAUGHTER OF MINE."