Classroom 223-a Sherlock fanfiction

Chapter 12 (John's POV)

It's is now 4pm, one hour after Rosie should have finished school. Myself, Sherlock, Greg and Molly are all waiting agitatedly for my daughter to arrive. We already have all of the flat decorated and Mrs Hudson has spent the whole morning preparing a celebratory chocolate cake. Rosie is never this late. She always gets the cab and usually it takes her 10 minutes. I have heard no reports of any serious traffic issues so either the news is slow at notifying me or something is terribly wrong. Sherlock joins me on the couch, moving his hand slowly into mine and wrapping his fingers around it in a firm grip. "John. I need you to listen to me. The school has contacted me saying that Rosie went missing during the day and didn't turn up to any lessons. We must leave now. I need you to trust me." He whispers sternly into my right ear. What?! Taking hold of my wrist, he gently heaves me up out of my seat and brings me swiftly to the door. "Oh, are you two going?" Molly questions sadly as she watches us grab our coats. Mrs Hudson and Lestrade exit from the kitchen door behind her. "Where's Rosie then? She not done at school yet?" Lestrade asks us, peering down at his watch. "Oh, are you boys meant to be collecting her?" Comes Mrs Hudson next as she watches me slide my gun into my coat pocket. "The school have reported Rosie missing. Me and John are leaving to find her. Kevin, I want you to keep tabs on all areas, and try to keep up with my homeless network." Sherlock informs everyone as they all look at us in horror. "Oh dear, poor Rosie!"
"Wait what?"
"God, I'm onto it." All three of them say at once, devastated. "John, let's go." Sherlock says hurriedly opening the door and rushing down the stairs.

He frantically waves him arm out in front of the cab and swings open the door while it's still stopping. "Careful!" I shout as I jump in after him. "Try your phone again John." He instructs me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I call my daughter and patiently wait as the dial tone rings out. Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring. The person you are trying to call cannot answer right now. Please try again later. "Oh bloody hell!" I yell angrily as I end the call, "Jesus, where is she!?" I'm starting to panic as is Sherlock as we both start to think of where she could be. Kidnapped? Killed? Lost? Hurt? The thought blares through my head, millions of voices screaming out all the possibilities non stop. "John, we need to think. This is our daughter and she's under our protection. This morning she goes to pick up her exam results with Mr Woodbridge, then what? Doesn't turn up to lessons. No sign of her for the rest of the day. We're looking for her maths class and this Mr Woodbridge."

(Sherlock's POV)
"Hello, Sherlock Holmes. We're here after our daughter went missing earlier this morning. Can you lead us to her maths classroom?" I politely yet urgently ask the receptionist. "Rosie Watson?"
"Yes. I need her maths class, where is it?"
"Room 223. I am sorry about your daughter but we have absolutely no clue where she is. She completely vanished into thin air. The school are happy to compensate-"
"Shut up." I say as I have no interest in what she has to offer, I just want my daughter. The receptionist looks taken back and rather annoyed as she buzzes us through without looking me in the eye. "223, this way John!" I say pointing to the stairs at my left and proceeding to run up them. It takes us a minute to get through all the cluttered corridors and endless flights of stairs to reach classroom 223. There it is, an old wooden door with the golden numbers embedded into it. A glass panel in the centre of the door gives us a view of the dimly lit class. I try the door but as always, it is locked. "For God sakes. John, hand me your gun." I say exasperated, holding out my hand and feeling the cold metal of his gun hit my skin. "Stand back." I warn as I fire a bullet into the keyhole making it fly off and sending an echoing noise pounding through the hall. I slam my body against the door and, to my luck, it flies open. Noticing the light switch on the wall, I flick it and the lights turn on, illuminating the whole class. It is a tidy space with small desks in rows along the floor complete with chairs. At the front of the class is a large smart board next to the teachers desk. Immediately, I rush over observing every detail. Nothing much out of the ordinary apart from the occasional bits of stationary, notes and a mouldy sandwich which stinks. There is however, upon a closer glance, bits of paper and books strewn across the floor beside the desk. It looks to me as if someone, or must I say my daughter, grabbed onto the desk, maybe for support, and in doing so brought the books and papers along with her. She must have fallen. But how? Usually if you were to fall, your reflexes would kick in and you would grab onto whatever is closest to you, except this looks like no accidental trip. I bend down and scavenge the floor for any smaller clues, making sure to look in every crook and cranny. Under the large desk, I spot a slip of paper and reach in to retrieve it. I get a slightly faint whiff of chloroform as I bring it up to my face making me feel light-headed but not strong enough to knock me out. The chemical had worn off. "Chloroform John." I say looking him straight in the eye. "Oh God..." John says distressed, burying his face in his hand. Inspecting the chloroform infused paper, and being wary not to inhale it, I turn over the paper only to see two words neatly written in deep blue ink. 'Miss me?'. No. That's impossible. Another ridiculous trick just to annoy me. How? Maybe it wasn't just me who faked my own death. But Moriarty's done it before. Why come back after all these years? Most importantly, if it is him, has he got Rosie? A sudden uproar of anger and despair burns throughout my entire body. My nails start to slice through my hands as I clench my fists harder and harder. "Sherlock? Sherlock! Where is Rosie!?" John shouts impatiently. I simply face him and present to him the chloroform infused note. His face evolves into an utter look of horror, an expression I've never seen before. A flame of utter fury rages throughout his subtle sapphire eyes. "How? But that's impossible. He's done this before, remember? Where is our daughter?" He croaks through clenched teeth. "John, I don't know. All I know is that this 'Mr Woodbridge' must have been Moriarty all along. He must have tricked her by saying that these were her results. Upon opening this, she was drugged by the chloroform which took immediate effect, resulting in her collapsing to the ground. In doing so, she grabbed onto the desk for support but failed. Chloroform is quick. As soon as you smell it, it completely shuts down your brain, making your muscles weak and eventually causing you to collapse, losing consciousness." I deduce quickly, as John watches me in bewilderment. "Bloody hell...I need her Sherlock. We need her. She's all I have left Sherlock. Please find her. I can't lose Rosie, not after Mary and nearly you on several occasions. God only knows what Moriarty will do to her if it is him..."

(Ah the feels! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's about to get crazy! Also sorry if Sherlock's deductions are weird, I don't know how to write them lol.)