The sister... [Recently edited]

Chapter 12 - And The truth [EDITED]

Mykala POV

Sherlock was dead.

Dead.

That was all I'd been told.

John had been there.

Moriarty had been there too.

Both men had fallen from St Bartholomew's Hospital, and neither of them had survived.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes was dead.

The only man I had ever loved...

The father of my children...

...was gone.

Forever.

Or so everyone believed.

---

Two years had passed since Sherlock's funeral.

Not a single day had gone by without me thinking about him.

Some days the grief was manageable.

Other days...

It felt as though someone had reached into my chest and squeezed my heart until I couldn't breathe.

A cry echoed through the baby monitor beside my bed.

I sighed softly and pushed back the duvet.

Joseph.

Ever since he'd started having proper dreams, he'd been waking several nights a week.

I pulled on my dressing gown and wandered into the hallway, picking up my phone as I went.

One new voicemail.

From John.

I pressed play.

"Mykala..."

His voice sounded tired.

"Come home."

A pause.

"I need you."

Another pause.

"We all do."

"It's been two years."

His voice cracked slightly.

"I've moved into a new flat. I'll text you the address."

"I'd really like to see you."

"I hope you'll come."

The message ended.

I stared at my phone for a long moment before slipping it into my pocket.

Then I opened Joseph's bedroom door.

He was sitting up in bed, clutching the Sulley teddy I'd bought him the day before.

The second he saw me, his little face lit up.

"Mummy!"

I scooped him into my arms.

"Bad dream?"

He nodded sleepily before resting his head against my shoulder.

I kissed the top of his curls before walking across the hallway to his sister's room.

"Boo?"

She was already awake.

Unlike her brother, she was quietly sitting beneath her duvet reading her favourite book about space.

Typical.

Joseph had inherited my curiosity.

Boo had inherited Sherlock's mind.