Can't Stay Away (BBC Sherlock) -2-

35. Addicted to a Certain Lifestyle

I'd never been afraid of my dad until tonight. He was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any given second. I couldn't blame him, considering I would do the same exact thing. Like father like daughter, I guess you could say.

The arena of choice for this confrontation: 221B Baker Street. Dad led the procession upstairs, with Mary slowly in tow behind him. I kept back with Sherlock, acting like his nurse, making sure he didn't collapse and fall down the stairs. The times Mary looked back over her shoulder, she tried to make eye contact with me. I never met her eyes. I couldn't. It would only fuel the betrayal and pain in my heart.

Dad was the first to get inside, Mary followed suit. I went slightly ahead of Sherlock, worrying over him. Mary went towards the fireplace while Dad took off his coat, tossing it onto the table in the room. Sherlock leaned against the door frame, looking even worse than he had back at Leinster Gardens.

"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out. I looked to see her joining us. "Oh, good gracious, you look terrible."

"Get me some morphine from your kitchen," Sherlock said lowly. "I've run out."

"I don't have any morphine!"

"Then what exactly is the point of you?" His voice rose.

"What is going on?"

"Bloody good question," Dad snarled.

"The Watsons are about to have a domestic," Sherlock explained heavily, "and fairly quickly, I hope, because we've got work to do."

"Oh, I have a better question." Dad spun around, marching up to Mary. My muscles tensed. "Is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?"

"Yes."

"Umm, no," I countered. "Last I checked I'm not."

"You're close enough, you were involved with one. Good that we've settled that. Anyway, we—"

"SHUT UP!" Dad bellowed, whirling around to Sherlock. I cringed. This was the loudest and angriest I'd never seen him. "And stay shut up, because this is not funny." There was no humor in his smile. "Not this time."

"I didn't say it was funny," Sherlock said.

"You." Dad faced Mary again. "What have I ever done...hmm?...my whole life...to deserve you?"

"Everything."

"Sherlock, I've told you..." Dad stalked towards Sherlock. "...shut up."

"Oh, I mean it, seriously. Everything—everything you've ever done is what you did."

"Sherlock, one more word and you will not need morphine."

"You were a doctor who went to war. You're a man who couldn't stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie. Your daughter went out with a psychopath. Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high. That's me, by the way. Hello." Sherlock jabbed a finger towards Mrs. Hudson. "Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel."

Mrs. Hudson did what?

"It was my husband's cartel," Mrs. H corrected him. "I was just typing."

"And exotic dancing."

"Sherlock Holmes, if you've been Youtube-ing..."