Classroom 223-a Sherlock fanfiction

Chapter 15 (John's POV)

2 days. 2 days since we lost our daughter. Sherlock is trying his best as he usually does, he has already informed everyone we know about Rosie's disappearance. They were all completely devastated, Lestrade has already dispatched a search and rescue team. However, I doubt that'll be any use. Sherlock has completely shut himself up in his bedroom ever since our visit to the school. He won't eat, talk or do anything apart from sitting silently on his bed, hands pointed under his chin. I don't know what to do anymore. Rosie could be dead for all we know. Not only that, but she could possibly be in the hands of the most deadly criminal in the nation. With my head resting on my hand, I sit in my chair and stare blankly at Sherlock's empty seat blinking back my salty tears. I can't help it. The tear slides down my cheek coldy, dripping off onto Rosie's small blue scarf which is wrapped tightly around my hands. Another one escapes my desolate eyes and drips onto Rosie's soft scarf, followed by several more. I let all the emotions erupt, embracing them as I bring my hands to my face in despair. Letting out growls of anguish, I stand up and throw my pillow to the ground in a desperate manner. Kicking it several times, I rush over to the table grabbing whatever I can and shove it off the desk. Several heavy books clatter to the ground and a pile of written paper floats and joins it. Breathing furiously, I place both hands on the table and bring my head down, watching more tears leave my eyes, slowly creating a puddle below me. I linger here for a few moments steadying my uneasy breaths and recollecting myself ready to confront Sherlock in his confined sanctuary. Marching across the living room and down the hall, I thrust open the door to Sherlock's bedroom and bellow, "What are you doing?! Our daughter is out there, possibly with an insane psychopath and you just sit in here?! Sherlock are you listening to me?!" It is then that I realise that Sherlock is sprawled over the bed completely silent with his eyes pursed shut. His arm is outstretched beside a small plate with a syringe full of a white substance. Shit. Sherlock don't do this to me, not again. Flinging myself onto the bed, I grab Sherlock's lifeless body and cradle it in my arms. Sobbing into his dark curls, I rock him about trying to shake him awake. Pulling up his pale, limp arm, I place both hands on his wrist, heart throbbing, I check for any sign of a pulse. Oh thank God! Sherlock is still alive, but his life is in danger. Cradling him even tighter into my chest, I muffle into his curls. "Sherlock, please, you promised you wouldn't overdose. You promised me. Just hang in there. We-we need to find Rosie. And I-I can't do that without you. Just wake up you bloody idiot. Wake up."

(Sherlock's POV)

"Rosie, I need you to tell me what happened." I speak sternly to my daughter, my hands gripping her shoulders. Her figure disperses from my hands as she disintegrates into dust like a ghost. "Rosie!" I scream, my eyes swollen with tears as I drop to the floor. As I look up, I find myself in classroom 223 and Rosie is excitedly ripping open a letter. As soon as she retrieves it, her face grimaces, perplexed, as she begins to loose her balance. Rosie staggers around the place, grabbing onto a nearby desk for support as her legs give way, causing her to bring several books and pieces of paper as she collapses to the ground. I stand there completely motionless as I watch the disturbing events unfold in front of my eyes. Rosie is incapable of doing anything as she lolls about on the floor. I have the urge to help her out but I can't as I need to visualise what happened with my own eyes. Then someone strolls into the room casually watching my defenceless daughter. This man is none other than James Moriarty himself. I truly despise his murderous smirk. Turning to face me, he laughs maniacally and tuts. "You didn't think I would just disappear did you?" He says slyly, strolling around me with his hands in his pockets. "Obviously." I remark, following his deathly gaze. "Dear me Sherlock, look at your sweet little daughter. Seems like you and Mr Watson have been a little 'busy' since we last met." Jim sneers evilly, peering down at my lifeless daughter. "What have you done? It just doesn't stop does it, all your little puzzles. You just can't get enough can you?" I say through clenched teeth as Jim grins delightfully. "No, no, no, no Sherlock. You're missing the point. All those years ago I warned you not to pry and look where it's got you." He says shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, so you're back from the dead just to torment me? A double suicide in one day. I'm guessing you enjoyed being my sisters Christmas present and torturing myself and John." I question him as we slowly return to St Bartholomew's rooftop. "Of course, that wasn't my last game. Oh Sherlock, it's only just the beginning." Jim expresses excitedly, stretching his arms out. "I don't care anymore, James. Bring back my daughter, just let her go back to John. Do whatever you'd like with me." I plead him as we both look at Rosie whose pale body is slumped near the wall of the roof. "How about no? What's the fun in that?" We slowly fade into the swimming pool, only Rosie is now conscious and is in Jim's grip who is holding her by the wrist. "I am surprised Sherlock. Your daughter is rather oblivious when it comes to the obvious. You know dear, if I were you, I would go join daddy over there. He looks so lonely without you." Jim whispers softly to Rosie, releasing his grip from her wrist. She quickly runs over to me in fright, grasping my hand as I pull her beside me. In a blink of an eye, and before I can react, a red dot hovers over Rosie, firing right into her side. I catch her frail body in my arms and lower her to the ground. "Dad, dad. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She gasps and splutters as crimson leaks out of her side, slithering through the cracks of the tiled ground. I stand still unmoved as I cannot show Moriarty my true self as that is his desire. "See, I told you Sherlock, completely oblivious to the obvious," he sniggers, "What a disappointment you are to everyone around you." Anger surging throughout me, I grab my L9A1 out of my pocket, cock it and continuously fire shots at Jim until he collapses dead. The scene changes once again, evolving into my messy flat. Someone taps me lightly on the shoulder, I spin around in alarm and see a beaming John staring lovingly at me. "Hello Sherlock. Me and Rosie have just baked some scones, would you like to try a few?" He smiles as Rosie appears beside me and tugs at my arm. I look down to her smiling warmly. "They're just in the kitchen, I'll go get them." She says and enters the kitchen. "We've missed you terribly Sherlock. Why did you leave?" John questions me turning sour. "What do you mean leave?" I ask perplexed. Rosie skips back in carrying a tray of freshly baked scones and placing it on the table. "Thank you dear." Comes an Irish voice from my chair. Moriarty. He smiles at Rosie as he takes a scone, biting into it. John and Rosie are unmoved by Moriarty in their presence. "Hello Jim. How's work been?" John asks helping himself to a scone off the tray. "Excellent." Jim replies with his mouthful. "Wow Rosie, you really outdid yourself. These are delicious!" Jim thanks Rosie exaggeratively. He glances over to me brightly, offering me a scone. "Sherlock, aren't you going to try some? You wouldn't want to let down Rosie, would you?" He says injecting me with guilt. Furious, I slam the scone out of Jim's hand who looks at me in surprise. "STOP IT! STOP THIS NOW!" I yell angrily. This makes Rosie flinch and John open his mouth in shock. "Dear me Holmes. Tut tut. It's time to come back to reality now Sherlock. Rosie Watson is definitely in danger..." Jim says coldly shooting menacing eyes towards Rosie. The whole room melts around me as the scene spins round and round my head with Moriarty's chilling words echoing throughout. Make it stop. Covering my ears tightly, I fall onto my knees and scream loudly.