August Holmes, Sherlock's Daughter

Chapter fifteen - Uncertain

I clenched my jaw and sucked in my cheeks. Anger was an understatement on how I felt. How could Sherlock pretend to be dead? Especially after I lost all of my family to a car accident five years ago? How could he pretend to be dead?

Those three years ago... things got rough. Moriarty was gaining popularity in the press... and Sherlock wasn't. Everyone made it seem like he was a fraud. A fake detective. I always knew he wasn't. I never believed the press because I knew what he faced. Even after he jumped off that building I knew he was the real deal. I knew he was Sherlock Holmes.

The day he died, I was helping Molly. When I got the call from John I was shocked. I sobbed for hours. Molly wasn't much help in comforting me. The last time I saw her was the funeral. I missed her, sometimes.

I thought I was cursed. I thought my family was doomed to die. Sophia brought up the topic of marriage and I panicked and pushed her away. I never told her it was because I thought I was cursed; it wasn't brought up again.

Now, here we were. Three years later. A very much alive Sherlock, John, Mary, Sophia, and I standing outside in the cold.

"You have two minutes to explain." I heard John say. My hearing was fading in and out and my breath was becoming short and raspy.

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling ..." Sherlock recounted, his mind going back to three years ago.

"You know for a genius you can be remarkably thick. I don't care how you did it Sherlock. I just want to know why." John remarked, sighing heavily.

Sherlock looked bewildered that John would ask him that. "Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped... Oh... 'why' as in..." The detective looked at me briefly. "That's a little more difficult to explain."

"We've got all night." John said, motioning to me, Sophia, and Mary.

"It was mostly Mycroft's idea." Sherlock cleared his throat and looked down.

"Oh, he would have needed a confidant." Mary observed, gnawing on her thumb.

Sophia squeezed my hand. She must of felt my trembling.

"Mmnn."

"Who else knew?" I spoke up. My voice unsteady.

Sherlock looked at me with a soft expression. He must of knew how I dealt these past three years. Mycroft talked to me about every other month or so.

Sherlock sighed. "Molly."

Tears spilled out my eyes. Molly Hooper knew and I didn't. He trusted Molly Hooper over me and she didn't even tell me.

I grabbed Sophia's hand and turned on my heels, with the intention to go home.

"Wait! August. I'm sorry." Sherlock took a step towards me.

"One Word, Sherlock. That is all  I would have needed. One word to let me know that you were alive. To know I had some family left..." I turned back around and starting walking down the sidewalk. Sophia hailed a cab and we both got in. There, I broke down in a sobbing mess of tears.

"Shhh. August. Stay at my house tonight. It's okay. It's going to be okay." Sophia comforted, pulling me into a hug.

Once we arrived to her house, we quietly went upstairs. Her father had seen my face and asked what was wrong, but Sophia said she would tell him another time. I always liked her dad. He was a kind man.