BBC Sherlock shit (thoughts, ideas and oneshots)

Teenage Rosie

Ok this is so sad. But read it, it's worth it.

Rosie as a teenager. John never letting her solve cases with him and Sherlock. She follows them anyway and hides behind a doorway where they can't see her. She's only listening and a man comes in, he shoots and no one hears it or notices him in time to stop him. Sherlock is still looking at the wall of evidence and goes to turn around when he sees John hit the floor. John's gun skids out of his pocket and lands by the doorway. Sherlock looks at the man and at John, tears in his eyes. Rosie runs into the room and grabs the gun. She sees her dad on the floor and points the gun at the man that shot him. Her hand is steady, her face already stained red. This all happens in about the space of 30 seconds. Sherlock disregards the man pointing a gun at him and kneels down next to John as fast as possible. The man takes a step towards Sherlock and Rosie shouts, "ONE MORE STEP. I DARE YOU." This is the first time anyone in the room acknowledges Rosie's presence. The man scoffs at the teenage girl pointing a gun at him and moves again. Rosie is about to shoot when Sherlock shouts, "NO! Rosie..." The last part is said with the most emotion Rosie has ever heard anyone have, including her father. Sherlock hasn't seen John moves so scurries around to check for a pulse. Rosie heard him whisper oh so silently, "....no pulse..." She shoots the man without hesitation, drops the gun and runs to her fathers side to check for a pulse herself. She comes up short handed. Both Sherlock and Rosie just sit there, unsure of what to do without John Watson. Rosie isn't moving but is crying, a lot. While she got Sherlock's intelligence and mind palace, she also has her fathers emotions and emotional intelligence. And common sense, she used to tease Sherlock with facts about the solar system, she'd even make up fake ones to make Sherlock sound dumb because he believes them. They're both just sitting there, crying. Rosie is so broken up that Sherlock's trying so hard not to cry and you can tell. He's doing that so he doesn't make her feel worse. Rosie grabs John's hand and puts it to her head. And under her chin, crying onto it while she looks at his dead and empty eyes. Neither of them care or realise they're sitting in a pool of his blood until they get up. After Sherlock finds his voice to call an ambulance. He makes sure they bring Molly. It's what John would have wanted.

When they finally get back to 221B Baker Street neither of them say anything, for weeks. Mrs Hudson finds out what happened from Molly and helps plan the funeral. Neither Sherlock nor Rosie even ask to help, because they can't. Rosie stays in John's room for weeks reading his blog and Sherlock spends the time sitting in his chair and staring at John's. Where he should be. Where he's always been.

Sherlock hasn't cried. At least not in front of Rosie, because he sees how this has affected her and he knows that her seeing him cry will only make her feel worse. Because of this, he doesn't go to his funeral, and Rosie goes on her own. She doesn't speak. And doesn't even sit with Mrs Hudson, Molly or Lestrade. Without Sherlock the funeral looks empty. I mean, it is quite. Not many people came, because it was private and most of the people John knew were dead. Rosie sits on her own when a man comes and sits next to her. He asks, "How did you know John Watson?" He doesn't realise how young she is, just sees what's in her eyes, the eyes of a soldier. Of someone who's seen things. And killed those things.

It takes her a minute to respond before she says, "I'm his daughter." Without even looking at the man. When she does, she knows exactly who he is, she'd know who he was without the uniform he was wearing. She had never seen a picture of him, but she had a clear picture of him in her head and it was spot on. Of course, her father was a great writer. "(That general guy, I don't know his name, insert it here) from The Sign of Three, right? (Idk if that's what he actually called it or even typed it up at all, let's just say he did)"

He smirked, "of course you're his daughter." Rosie's confused. She gives him a confused look and he chuckles, "I can tell that look in a person's eyes. I knew I recognised it as more than just a soldier, and it is. It's the soldier. The bravest soldier I've ever known. Running around with that... psychopath, I'm not really insulting him, he saved my life, but that was him, what you just did." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. The whole thing was. Rosie looked up at the picture of her father and chuckled, felt like she had finally let go of the breath that she had been holding in since he... y'know...

"He's not a psychopath, he's a high-functioning sociopath..." she said, "And he's the one of the best people I've ever known." The general dude thing shook his head and smiled to himself, that is 100% something John Watson would say, he thought.

After the funeral is over, Rosie finally gets up the guts to post the story on her father's blog. She goes straight to his room, grabs his laptop, and sits on the floor. Yes, the floor. And starts typing.

So here's the part where I describe Rosie. The weird thing is, she has brown hair, like Sherlock, lips that look exactly like Sherlock's, cheekbones kind of sharp, (definitely not as sharp as) Sherlock's, was pretty tall for her age, like Sherlock and had a smile like, you guessed it, Sherlock. She didn't look much like her father, looked quite a bit like her mother though. But since not many people had seen Mary, they thought she was Sherlock's kid. John was never bothered by this fact. He liked it at times, Rosie didn't have a mother, so why couldn't Sherlock be her other parent? Rosie kept this in mind as she started typing.

For those who were wondering, I am not Sherlock's child. My father was John Hamish Watson, and my mother was Mary Watson. I was raised by both Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, now one of those men are dead. He was a great man. What people said about him was true, he was the soldier who never came back from the war. He always did what was right and if not possible, always did what hurt less people. He may not have died by sacrificing himself but that's no different.it doesn't make his death any less special or important. That doesn't mean he didn't die for what's right. He died finding out the truth. He died for Sherlock, for me, for all those people affected by the murderers and assassins they took down by solving that case. They still saved lives. And they lost one for it. Sherlock Holmes lost his blogger, his doctor, his soldier... and the only person who was ever really his friend. And I lost my father. We both lost our whole world. And I'm worried about him, he hasn't even cried, and I know he's doing it for me. He's not crying in front of me because he knows it will hurt me more, but that thought Hurts the most. And it always will.

So all I wanted to say, is that my father is dead. He's not coming back, and... and that is what happened, he died. I saw it myself and I also saw Sherlock die, I saw the life drain from my fathers eyes, but I also saw the sparkle disappear from Sherlock's... It was the worst feeling in the world. Because it was only gone for a millisecond before it was replaced with the shine of his tears.

- Rosie xx

She hit the post button and closed the laptop, she held it to her chest and let the tears fall from her eyes. This was her father's laptop. The one he wrote his stories on. Classics like 'A Study in Pink' and Rosie's favourite, 'The Lying Detective'. It was her favourite because her dad beat up Sherlock. It made her laugh, because the John Watson she knew would never do that. But it also made her sad, because the loss of her mother pulled them apart, but seeing her on that screen pushed them back together. And hearing Sherlock that depressed and drugged up, hurt. Thinking about that now, Rosie has never seen him like that, but could imagine it so clearly... She could always see all the details in a story. So clearly without even trying. And she was scared she was going to see that side of him soon...