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

Epilogue

The wind catches my hair as I step out of the cap and onto the runway, and I pull my coat tight around me. 

Dad, Mycroft and a security officer are standing near the nose of an executive jet and I give them a small smile as I approach.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to be," I say, my voice already on the verge of breaking. 

"I know," dad replies softly. 

"John should have let me take the shot. I have to serve time anyway - it should be me standing in your place." I smile, my voice tight. "We both know I would last longer."

Dad chuckles. "I don't doubt it. But it was my fault it came to this." He clears his throat. "I also suspected he had a mind palace. I made a monumental error of judgement, and it's my job to take the blame for it." He gives me a small smile. "As your father."

He wraps his arms around me as I begin to sob and nestles his head on mine. He only pulls away at the sound of an approaching car several seconds later.

I sniff deeply, rubbing my eyes and pulling myself together as John and Mary step out of the cab together.

Dad smiles at Mary. "You will look after them both for me, won't you?"

"Oh, don't worry," she says, putting her hands on his shoulders as they kiss each other's cheeks, then hug, "I'll keep them in trouble."

Dad releases her. "That's my girl."

Mary returns to John's side and takes his hand. John has on what Magnussen would call his 'soldier face': the stoicism of putting on a brave face while your world breaks down inside. At least we all get to say a proper goodbye this time around.

Dad turns to Mycroft. "Since this is likely to be the last conversation I'll have with John Watson, would you mind if we took a moment?"

Mycroft looks a little startled, but nods for the security officer to follow him around to the back end of the plane. Mary gives John a reassuring smile before following after them. 

"So, here we are."

Dad nods and looks vaguely around the airfield before clearing his throat again.  "William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

"Sorry?"

"That's the whole of it – if you're looking for baby names."

I blink back my surprise. "I'm sorry, your name is William?!"

He nods and John and I burst into laughter. 

"No, we've had a scan. We're pretty sure it's a girl."

"Oh. Okay."

He looks to me. "Doesn't mean we're calling her Sophie, either."

"Aw, you spoil all my dreams."

John chuckles, then a few awkward seconds pass as we all look anywhere except each other. "Yeah. Actually, I can't think of a single thing to say."

"No, neither can I."

"The game is over."

"The game is never over, John," dad says firmly, looking up and meeting his eye. "But there may be some new players now. It's okay. The East Wind takes us all in the end."

"What's that?"

"It's a story my brother told me when we were kids. The East Wind – this terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth. That was generally me." 

I snort. "Sounds like the types of stories he used to tell me."

Dad laughs. "Yeah. He was a rubbish big brother."

John smiles, then looks down. "So what about you, then? Where are you actually going now?"

"Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe," dad says flippantly.

"For how long?"

Dad doesn't meet his eye. "Six months, my brother estimates. He's never wrong."

"And then what?"

I swallow, not wanting to think about it. Dad looks down thoughtfully before raising his head and gazing off into the distance and shrugging. 

"Who knows?"John nods and then turns away to look across the airfield again, breathing in deeply. 

"John," dad says, speaking slowly and John looks back around. "There's something ... I should say; I-I've meant to say always and then never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now." He hesitates for several long moments, keeping John's gaze. I watch him curiously, unsure what he's going to say. "Sherlock is actually a girl's name."

John turns away, giggling almost silently. "It's not."

"It was worth a try."

"We're not naming our daughter after you."

"I think it could work."

"Hey, if he's not going to name her after me, he certainly isn't going to name her after you," I say, poking dad playfully.

"God, imagine the world with two Sherlocks," John says to me.

I laugh. "Yeah, I think one is more than enough!" I glance back at dad with a smile on my lips, but very much aware that there probably wouldn't be two Sherlock's for very long. 

John chuckles, meeting dad's eye and holding his gaze for a second before dad breaks it, taking off his right glove and holding out his hand. 

"To the very best of times, John."

John hesitates for a long while, then finally takes dad's hand and shakes it. They hold on for a couple of seconds before dad turns back to me. 

"Try not to die," I say, smiling sadly and wrapping my arms around him.

"I'll try," he says softly. "There's no point telling you not to follow me, is there?"

"No chance. I'll see you soon."

He pulls away, gives me one long kiss on the forehead then turns, putting his glove back on as he walks away. He doesn't turn back around as he climbs the steps up to the plane and disappears inside. 

Mary walks over to me and takes hold of me and John in each hand, and we move back to stand beside Mycroft's car as the plane taxies along the runway and flies off. 

I breathe deeply as it gets smaller and smaller away. What I wouldn't give to have the plane turn around right now. 

My phone beeps in my pocket and I frown as I pull it out. 

"Shit!" I drop the phone onto the tarmac and John and Mary looks around questioningly.

At the same time, Mycroft gets back out of his car, holding his phone to his ear. "But that's not possible. That is simply not possible."

John releases his hand and walks towards him. "What's happened?"

Mycroft doesn't answer, still busy working out what to do, so I show John the cracked screen of my phone.

A clip plays on loop on my phone of Moriarty and the phrase 'did you miss me?' being repeated in robotic voices. 

"He's back."

"But he's dead," Mary says. "I mean, you told me he was dead, Moriarty."

"Absolutely. He blew his own brains out."

"So how can he be back?"

I narrow my eyes, trying to think. There was one case...

John shakes his head, but turns. "Well, if he is ... he'd better wrap up warm." I follow his gaze and my mouth falls open in amazement as dad's jet turns and comes back in to land. "There's an East Wind coming."