Sophia Holmes and the Sign of Three (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Epilogue

I turn the key over in my hand, biting my lip and hesitating on the doorstep before I take a deep breath and let myself in. The house is empty, with all its residents having gone back home for Easter, so I head upstairs to my room on the second floor.

As I sit down on the bed, I look around at the boxes stacked up around the outside of the room, filled with all the things I'm yet to unpack. That's a job for another day. I lie back, kicking my shoes off and staring at the ceiling, allowing my mind to wander. Have I done the right thing?

I started moving out of Baker Street a week after John and Mary's wedding. Mycroft found me a studio apartment on North Gower Street - just a few roads over, with practically identical architecture and floorplan - which usually only lets to students, however Mycroft convinced them otherwise.

We all agreed it was best for us to have a little bit of space for a while. Dad needed time to adjust to John being gone, and I needed to get away for a bit. With all of the secrets, lies and strange behaviour over the last few months, I needed to have a serious think about whether I still want to do this. It didn't help matters that dad seemed to be acting even stranger after the wedding - disappearing for hours at a time and often not coming back until the morning. Whenever I brought it up, he would get defensive and tell me he was just busy - but he never told me what he was busy doing. In fact, it pretty much ended with him telling me to leave. It's one of the few times I've wished I could deduce my dad, but as always, when I look at him, I am as clueless as anybody else looking at him. I haven't been back since I left with the last few boxes, despite it only being a few streets away. It's been about a month, and he hasn't even called up to check how I am.

I thought it would have been easier than this to get used to living without him again, having it only been a matter of months since he came back into our lives, but if anything it's harder. Knowing that he's only a few streets away, and knowing that my life isn't endangered by him reaching out only makes it more painful to know he refuses not to. It leads to times like these when I get back to my apartment and lie, overthinking about what I could have possibly done to make this happen.

My ringing phone jolts me away from my thoughts and I reach out for it beside me and glance at the display momentarily before putting it to my ear.

"John?" I ask with a frown. Like dad, John hasn't been in contact either. Though he has been slightly occupied with his honeymoon.

"Sophie, I need you to come to Bart's," he says, sounding tense. I can hear several voices on the other end and the sound of his car engine. This can't be good. "We'll meet you there."

"Sure," I say slowly, trying to work out what could have happened. "I'm on my way."

John hangs up and I sit back up, tapping on the back of my phone as I think. He sounded more angry than anything so I don't think anyone is injured, but the fact he called me tells me it could have something to do with dad. I stop tapping, my eyes widening up in realisation. This really isn't good.