Classroom 223-a Sherlock fanfiction

Chapter 22 (John's POV)

"The best we can do Sherlock is to send you and John back to Sherrinford to retrieve your daughter." Says Mycroft, pointing to the many computer screens in the Government Headquarters. We've been here for an hour now deciding on a plan to save Rosie, so far this is the only option. "Yes, but she may not be there. It could be a trap. Don't you have a surveillance feed there?" Asks Sherlock, tapping away at the keyboard and searching through surveillance footage. "No, it can only be accessible from within the fortress. Stop messing around Sherlock, it's not getting you anywhere." Explains Mycroft firmly, tapping Sherlock's hand of the keyboard in annoyance. Sherlock sighs and slumps in his chair. "Can't we just go? Who cares if it's a trap! We're doing this for our daughter, remember Sherlock?" I cry out in vexation, slamming my hand down hard on the desk. "But Eurus, as we fairly know, is incredibly dangerous. You can go to Sherrinford, but at your own risk. I can call the helicopter now if you'd like." Warns Mycroft, picking up the phone beside him. "Aren't you coming brother mine? She is your niece after all." Sherlock says, injecting guilt into his brother. Mycroft glares at him in aggravation. "I'm...busy" He replies cold heartedly. "Busy?" Sherlock spits out antagonised. "She's your niece for God's sake!" I yell enraged in disbelief of his words. "I want nothing to do with Eurus. I'll keep an eye on things here, now do you want to go or not?" Says Mycroft undisturbed. "...yes"

I stare longingly out of the window, gazing at the passing sapphire waves. Sherlock is beside me, his hand enveloped around mine warmly. We have two bodyguards with us for backup in case things take a turn for the worst. Both are armed and so are we. "This may well be a matter of life and death John. We could be walking straight into a trap." Sherlock says tensely into my ear. "I know. But we're soldiers. We have to be." I reply strongly. "They aren't expecting us, but I'm sure they'll pick us up on the radar soon."
"Yes."
"So I suggest we take our time and keep our wits about."
"Yes..."
"I don't know what to expect. This could may well be the end." He coughs. "No, we will find her."
"So, if this is my last chance to say it. John Watson I-" Before Sherlock has the chance to finish, there is a deafening bang from outside the aircraft. The pilot comes in on the intercom. "All signs of communication are gone. There's no radar, nothing. I have no clue of our whereabouts. Something is wrong with the engine. We have to get back before it fails." The pilot announces. "Jesus..." I say in despair. "We're never going to find her." Demoralised, I bury my head into Sherlock's chest, feeling his hands brush my hair soothingly. "Don't worry John, we just have to keep hope. I think...Moriarty wants to do this to us. He wants us to loose hope and fail. We can't let him win. Not now, not today, not ever." Sherlock whispers, sounding broken. "Soldiers?"
"Soldiers."

The journey back was a complete nightmare, we had to land quickly. We managed to land back at the Government Headquarters after a long anticipated 45 minutes. Now we're back in Mycroft's office, motionless. Sherlock is perched on an office chair with his hands under his chin, eyes shut. He's off dancing around in his mind palace scouring for whatever he can find on Rosie. Mycroft is tapping away furiously at his computer trying to figure out what went wrong with the helicopter, apparently it's never lost communications before. Everything is mute, only the irritable taps of keys can be heard. I glance over to Sherlock, his eyes are rolling around in his skull rapidly. He must be searching hard. His hands are tense and his veins are bulging, something must be making him distressed.

(Sherlock's POV)

"Play-a-game o' roses,
A mother for a Rosie,
The East Wind! The East Wind!
She will fall down." Rosie sings happily, skipping around me continuously. She's younger in this part of my mind palce, 5 years old. "Shut up please." I demand. She halts. "You don't like my song?" She asks disheartened. "No I-"
"I don't think you love me."
"Rosie don't be-"
"Why? What have I done?"
"Listen to me."
"No, I don't want to!" She folds her arms angrily. "Stop and listen." I say calmly, bending down to her height. "You don't love me!" Rosie yells as tears stream down her pink cheeks. "Is Daddy not being nice?" Asks Moriarty as he appears behind her. He tuts. "Look what you've done Sherlock. Such a disappointment." Rosie runs over to him in fright of me and I stand up. "It's ok dear, I've got you." Jim says softly, putting a protective arm around her shoulder. "Rosie, move away and come back to me." I plead slowly. Beimg the age of four, she is automatically more vulnerable and indecisive. Rosie cowers away in fear. "Aw, such a little thing." Jim remarks. "Let her go!" I demand desperately. "Have you figured it out yet? My little rhyme?" He asks completely ignoring my efforts. 'Play-a-game o' roses,
A mother for a Rosie,
The East Wind! The East Wind!
She will fall down'. I play it over and over again analysing every little detail possible. "Play your game with Rosie. You're giving her a mother of some sort. The East Wind, Eurus. She will fall down meaning my daughter will die." I deduce, my stomach churning at 'my daughter will die'. Moriarty simpers approvingly. "I must say Sherlock, that is a good deduction. However, you've missed something." He sneers. Something. "What?" I ask.
"Oh dear, you know Rosie, your father can get so engrossed on being clever that he doesn't even notice the obvious."
"What did I miss?"
"A mother for a Rosie...The East Wind...The East Wind." He sings eerily. Of course! "Eurus." I admit, shivers shooting through my spine. "Bravo Daddeo! Well, we better be off." He applauses, turning dark at the end. "I will stop you."
"No you won't!" He chimes fading away.