Sophia Holmes and His Last Vow (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic)

Chapter Ten - His Last Vow Part XI

John and Mary won't even look at each other in the cab, leave alone talk, so the journey back to Baker Street is spent in awkward silence. Dad spends the journey on his phone while I watch anxiously as he gets steadily worse. His face is grey and sweaty, his curls hang limply over his forehead and his hands are shaking as he texts. He clearly needs medical attention, so when the cab pulls up in front of the flat, I stay behind outside for a moment and call for an ambulance before following them in. 

I catch up with dad before he gets to the top of the stairs and help him hobble up the last few, then let him lean on me as we cross into the living room.

Mrs Hudson is already inside, and her eyes widen in shock as I practically carry him inside. "Oh, Sherlock! Oh, good gracious, you look terrible."

"Get me some morphine from your kitchen," he orders through gritted teeth. "I've run out."

"I don't have any morphine!"

"Then what exactly is the point of you?" dad asks angrily and I shoot him a reproving look as I drag him across to the sofa. 

Mrs Hudson purses her lips, before looking around at us all, sensing the tension. "What is going on?"

"Bloody good question," John says.

"The Watsons are about to have a domestic, and fairly quickly, I hope, because we've got work to do."

"Oh, I have a better question." John paces towards Mary, looking angrily into her face. "Is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?"

"Yes," dad says after a moment.

I scratch my head. "That's a pretty safe assumption, yeah."

Mary also nods in agreement, pursing her lips. 

"Good that we've settled that," dad says. "Anyway, we ..."

John whips around furiously. "SHUT UP!" Mrs Hudson jumps and I wince, painfully aware of her history with her husband verbally abusing her. John continues, his voice dangerously low. "And stay shut up, because this is not funny." He gives an angry, humourless smile. "Not this time."

"I didn't say it was funny."

John turns to Mary, his voice and face full of barely controlled anger. "You. What have I ever done ... hmm? ... my whole life ... to deserve you?"

"Everything," dad says, and I roll my eyes.

John turns to him, the quiet anger still on his face. "Sherlock, I've told you ... shut up."

"Oh, I mean it, seriously. Everything – everything you've ever done is what you did."

"Sherlock, one more word and you will not need morphine."

"John, you were a doctor who went to war," I say softly, and John's eyes turn to me as he breathes rapidly and deeply. "You're a man who couldn't stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and beating up a junkie. Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to getting high. A girl you consider to be your daughter solves crimes in order to avoid addressing her latent mental illnesses." I pause for a moment, then give a wave. "That's me, by the way. Hello. Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel."

"It was my husband's cartel," Mrs Hudson puts in. "I was just typing."

"And exotic dancing."

"Sophia Holmes, if you've been YouTube-ing ..."

"John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You're abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people ... so is it really such a surprise that the woman you've fallen in love with conforms to that pattern?"