We knew she was too good for this world.

It was a cool September day when we noticed our youngest limping after we picked her up from school.

"Indie, what happened to your leg?" I asked.

"Oh, I fell in gym class Papa, the nurse put ice on it and gave me icky medicine! It feels better than it did, the nurse said it was probably just a sprain," she replied.

"Well you just rest now, I'll get you your coloring books and some apple juice and we'll have a nice evening on the couch," I said as I leaned down and rubbed my nose on hers. I wrapped her in my arms and she giggled, the beautiful sound echoing around the room, the walls singing with her laughter. Sherlock burst through the door and opened his arms for Indie. I set her down and she limped over to him, Sherlock's brow furrowed and he said,

"John, what happened to her leg?"

"Don't worry, our girl just had an accident in gym and sprained her ankle, she'll be in tip top shape in no time," I said and Indie interjected, "I'll be fine, Daddy, it feels much better!"

Sherlock smiled and picked her up, but his face darkened as she snuggled with him. His eyes became stormy and his smile quickly turned to a deep frown, his brown still furrowed with worry. Something wasn't right.

Indie popped her head off his shoulder and immediately his face brightened, putting on a smile that was meant only for her.

"Well let's get you back on that couch and a pillow under that ankle!" he said. He practically floated to the couch, flying Indie like an airplane, before gently placing her on the cushions, popping my Union Jack pillow under her right ankle and draping a blue knit blanket over her in one fluid motion. Only Sherlock could make placing a child on a couch look like a scene from a world-class ballet. Once she was settled in with her coloring book, he crossed to the kitchen and I followed.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered.

"What was what, John?"

"You looked like Indie was about to die when you noticed her limping!"

Sherlock only focused more intently on making the cup of tea in front of him.

I walked behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle and whispered into his back, "Bloody hell Sherlock, don't worry so much, she's an active little girl, she's going to sprain an ankle now and then."

During the next few days, Sherlock became more quiet, more withdrawn, clinging to Indie more. Even River, our firecracker, settled down and preferred tea parties or playing baby dolls with Indie than dissecting worms with her Daddy or running around the park with me. I knew both of them had figured out something I could not yet see and I had never been more frightened in my life. I had only approached the subject once since I noticed Sherlock acting strangely and that was met with a glare and deafening silence.

But Indie's leg seemed to get better, Sherlock and River seemed to return to normal, and the whole thing was nearly forgotten. I chalked to whole thing up to a sprained ankle, an overprotective father, and our daughter simply copying her father's behavior.

I ripped October 7th from my calendar that Molly had gotten for me last Christmas, looking at the little pug puppy sitting in a pumpkin and the accompanying quote for today;

"Enjoy the little things in life, for someday you will look back and realize they were the big things."

Suddenly I felt a chill and shuddered, something felt wrong, I hadn't felt this much dread since right before, well, Sherlock's fall. I glanced at the quote again and shook off the feeling, silly getting so upset over a quote from a calendar. Sitting at my desk at the clinic, I straightened the picture of my little family and smiled. I remember that day like it was yesterday…

We had decided to get our new family portraits done this year around the twins' 6th birthday on May 28th. Sherlock and I had gotten the girls ready the morning of the pictures and I had to convince him to put the girls in the outfits that Mrs. Hudson and I had picked out.

"John, we should capture who they really are, not the perfect, polished version. I am not going to make my girls do what my parents did to me," he huffed and threw himself on the couch.

"My God Sherlock, we're putting them into fancy dresses and bows in their hair for a few pictures, not forcing them into boarding school or having them be raised by a nanny," I sat next to him and ran my fingers through his curls, "we have lots of candid photos of River and Indie, they'll know and whoever looks at those pictures will know who they were at 5 years old. Their spirits and personalities won't get lost because of a few fancy pictures. Besides, Indie loves dressing up nice anyway, she'll have a field day with these."

"I suppose a few nice pictures wouldn't hurt, but they don't want to do this, I won't make them!" He replied.

After sulking for a few moments and with a few tender kisses, we both got up got up and went to the girls' bedroom to get them ready.

I brushed my thumb over the picture, Sherlock held River in his left arm and I held Indie in my right. Both girls were wearing baby blue frock dresses with bows in their ringlet hair to match. Three little faux buttons were in a column at the top of the dress and white embroidered flowers danced down the front of the dress. White tights and black Mary Janes completed the outfits. They had one arm around each other and the other around Sherlock or I. Their cheeks were pressed together and they had both been caught mid-laugh, their eyes shining brightly with mirth and their smiling mouths wide. Sherlock and I were kissing their cheeks with smiles on our faces. The girls were the center of our world, radiating laughter and light, and no other picture ever captured this as greatly as this one did.

If I had known then what I knew now, I would've hugged my girls a little bit tighter and held them just a little bit longer. I would've asked the photographer to just take a few more photographs and to leave us all of the ones she took, even the ones that didn't turn out as well. If only I had known that in less than a year, memories and pictures were all we had left of her.

If only I had known.