Little Consulting Detective

20

John's stomach had been churning all morning. He was so nervous about this. Sherlock could talk again, but he wasn't truly back to his old self. It had been a long night, but Sherlock had not regressed back.

John walked back to sherlocks room to see if he was awake. He was not. As the doctor made to leave the room, though, he heard Sherlock mutter something.

"John... help... me." He mumbled, eyes closed. Johns eyes widened. Was this finally the time that Sherlock snapped out of his headspace? John walked back to the living room and sat in his chair to wait for Sherlock to wake up.

A few minutes later, he heard a crackling over the baby monitor. He walked back to sherlock's room and looked down at the detective.

"Hey Sherlock, how're you feeling?" John asked. Sherlock looked up at him and smiled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Can you sit up for me?" John asked. Sherlock nodded and slowly sat up. He slowly got to his feet and John held onto him for support. He was walking!

"Sherlock, you're walking. This is incredible!" John said, patting his friend on the back. He helped him walk out to the kitchen and sat him in a chair, placing a couple pieces of toast in front of him. "You eat up, I'm going to call lestrade." John said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and went to the living room for some quiet.

"Hey Greg, it's John. Um... I think we're gonna be okay. Sherlock seems to be improving, so it's pretty safe to say that moriarty's lost." John said, smiling.

"That's terrific. Want me to come over?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah, that would be great. See you soon." John said. He hung up his phone and went back into the kitchen to check on Sherlock. The detective had jam all over his face, even on his forehead somehow. John laughed.

"Sherlock, look at you. Let me get you cleaned up." He said with a smile, running a soft rag under the tap. He wrung the excess water out and walked up to Sherlock, wiping away the jam. Sherlock giggled, the cloth tickling his face.

John wiped sherlock's hands off too and tossed the rag into the laundry bin. He grabbed sherlocks hand and helped him stand up, walking him over to the couch.

"Sit here for a bit, alright? I'll be back in a couple minutes." John said, turning on the telly for Sherlock. He left the room and walked down the hall to his own room.

He put on a clean pair of trousers and a sweater, walking back out to the living room. Sherlock was intently watching tv. The detective looked over at him and smiled. John smiled back and joined his friend on the couch.

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Molly couldn't stop crying. She was worried that Sherlock hadn't come out of his regression, which would land him right back with moriarty. She'd forgotten about moriarty and irene's conversation until just an hour ago. Now that she remembered, she couldn't get it out of her mind.

Moriarty walked into her nursery and picked her up, cradling her to his chest.

"Poppet, why are you so upset today, huh?" He cooed, rubbing her back. "Do you need a nappy change?" He asked, laying her on the changing table. He gently pressed the front of her nappy to discover that it was dry.

"Hey, what's the matter with molly?" Irene asked, walking over to moriarty.

"I don't know. She's inconsolable, but I don't know what's bothering her." Moriarty said. He picked molly up and carried her down to the living room, laying on the couch with her on top of his chest. He rubbed soothing circles onto her back, which started to settle the girl down.

"Whatever you're doing is working, keep it up." Irene said, smiling at e two.

"Daddy's right here, poppet. There's nothing to be sad about." Moriarty crooned. He watched as molly shut her eyes, drifting off to sleep. Moriarty wrapped his arms around her and just held her for another 10 minutes, enjoying the quiet time.

"When are we going to get Sherlock?" Irene asked quietly, sitting across from moriarty.

"Later this evening. I'll know when it's time to go." Moriarty said. Irene nodded.

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Sherlock was sat in the kitchen with a glass of water and chicken sandwich. He picked at the food, but didn't have an appetite. He stood up and trudged back to his room to take a nap. He was really tired all of a sudden, and wasn't sure why.

He flopped onto his stomach on his bed and shut his eyes, falling asleep in minutes.

The door opened and John and lestrade poked their heads in the room.

"You said he's doing better, right?" Lestrade asked. John nodded.

"Yeah. He was walking, and he hasn't used his nappy today. I think we're all set." John said.

"That's good. Although, I am going to miss how sweet and cute he was as a baby." Lestrade said.

"I don't disagree with you there, but I have missed my friend the way he was." John added. He and lestrade closed the door and let Sherlock sleep, going to talk about they could help rehabilitate him.

Hours later, Sherlock woke up. He was very groggy and stood up, walking unsteadily out of his room. He stumbled down the hallway a few paces before his knees buckled and he collapsed, falling face first on the ground.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" Asked John from the couch. 

Sherlock could hear his friends footsteps near him, followed by a small gasp. John ran to the detective's side and knelt down next to him.

Hearing the worry  in john's voice scared Sherlock and he sniffled, trying to hold back his tears. It only worked so well, and Sherlock was reduced to a puddle of tears. He couldn't do this anymore, he needed his daddy.

Sherlock felt as John scooped him up and carried him to the couch, sitting down and holding him, rocking him.

"It's alright Sherlock, everything's just fine." John cooed, rubbing sherlocks back. His heart hurt for Sherlock. He hated to see his friend in any sort of pain or distress, and the fact that he was crying so openly told him so much more than words ever could.

John was so busy calming Sherlock down that he almost didn't hear his phone ping. He looked down at the screen and saw a text from an unknown number.

'Do not respond to this message. I am sending someone to pick up Sherlock. You have one hour to get him ready and say goodbye to him. Time is short, doctor Watson, so embrace the moments you have.'

John was angry, but then became sad. He didn't want to let Sherlock go, that wouldn't be right. He needed to figure out how to foil Moriarty's plans.