I am so sorry if you've received like a Gillian emails about this chapter. Unless you haven't. I've been having so many problems trying to see if this chapter was published. I didn't receive the confirmation email, and ahh! Anyway, here we go! I don't own anything besides my characters in relation to Sherlock and anything else out there. Landslide by Stevie Nicks is not mine. I suggest you listen to it as you read the last half of this chapter. Preferably the live version. That is all.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as Etheldrea rushed away. Sherlock watched, very confused at her behavior. He turned to and looked over John. Tense shoulders, face flushed, thin lipped. Obviously stressed, slightly mad, and also annoyed.

"What did you do?" He asked.

"Not me, Sherlock."

Now even more confused, "What did I do?"

"Ruined her hopes for some time together."

"Time together? We talk to each other every day. Why would one measly dance be any different?"

"I think because it's supposed to be a family event, and we're here on a case."

"So we shouldn't have taken the case?"

"No, not that. Every year this dance happens, and she probably has to listen to kids go on and on about every day for a couple weeks. To Etheldrea coming here is supposed to be about enjoying sometime together, at least subconsciously."

"This is my daughter we're talking about. She-"

"Was nearly crying when she told me that all she wanted was to send some time with you. When was the last time you two had fun?"

". . . I'm not sure. Why didn't' she tell me?"

"She kept saying it was stupid. She also said that sometimes it feels like she's 'just there'."

"That's hardly ac-"

He was interrupted by a girl shouting "Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!"

Dr. Ancon's daughter was rushing towards them, disheveled and scared.

"Etheldrea's outside with Mr. Brown. I think she's in trouble."

John pushed her towards the dancers, "Get to your dad, and get out of here. We'll take care of everything."

Sherlock and John raced outside, looking around everywhere for signs of a struggle. The trees and light gave away nothing, not for a few moments until they heard a voice croak out,

"Dad."

They both turned, and Sherlock stiffened to see his daughter trapped in Dr. Brown's arms, one holding her in place and another poised to inject her. Sherlock took a step, but stopped when he saw Brown move his thumb to the plunger.

"Make one more step, and she will die."

"Let her go, she's not part of this."

"No, she is. The moment she tackled me away from my target. I've been reading about you Mr. Holmes. The blog is fantastic. Too bad this case won't have a happy ending."

John threatened, "I swear, if you hurt her-"

"Yes, I know. You'll kill me. Do try something more original."

"Let her go." Sherlock repeated, "Let her go, and we won't get in your way."

"For now. But come later, you'll be back. You'd do well not to get in my way at all, or some people might get hurt."

"You can't keep running. Already, men are searching around your apartments, your offices. They'll find everything."

"Oh? And how do you manage that?" Brown asked disbelieving.

"Some unwanted help from the government."

"Mycroft?" John asked.

"He learned about the case and decided he wanted to look into Dr. Brown himself. Something about this drug being the highest wanted chemical weapon in decades. He said it would be worth millions, billions even."

"Of course!" Brown shouted, "Finally, someone gets it! None of those people I worked with understood. This is a fortune I hold in my hand, and absolute fortune!"

"He said the only way you can get out of prison is if there's complete evidence that you're innocent. You can't manage that unless you let her go."

Brown was quiet and contemplating for a few moments, "But I can't let just anyone know about this."

"What are you talking about?"

"You, Mr. Holmes. You've got a penchant for not keeping your mouth shut. I can't let this get out. How about we make your daughter an incentive for keeping quiet? This is your warning. Say anything, and you're next."

To their horror, Brown injected Etheldrea, and shoved to her the ground. He took off running away from the club and towards the main roads, but Sherlock ignored him and ran straight to Etheldrea. Already, she was holding her throat, coughing and trying to clear her airway.

He shouted, "John, get the antidote from Dr. Ancon. Now!"

He took off, and Etheldrea collapsed to the ground. Sherlock tried to stand her up, surveying the occurring damage. Her hair and skin already dark brown and pale was turning pitch black and ghost white. Her skin was starting to freeze, and she was struggling even more to breathe. He picked her up and carried her back towards the doors. They were on the steps, away from the shadows and in the moonlight. He sat her next to him, took off his jacket to place it over her, and then wrapped an arm around her.

"Just hold on, it shouldn't take more than a minute." He said, looking up for John.

"I- I was an idiot." She stammered, "I didn't- even th-think of . . . running for you."

"No, I wasn't paying attention. I never have been."


John rushed into the club, then towards the main room. There were over two hundred people there, and in the crowds he could not see Dr. Ancon or his daughter. He pushed in-between and past people, muttering not really apologies.


"W-what?" She asked.

"I've never paid attention to what I should have. You especially, and I'm sorry."

"John- told you."

"Yes. I-. Well, that is-. If you ever want to do something, don't ever hesitate. I will gladly go with you to the book store, or a walk, or even this dance. The last thing I want is for you to feel like a- a potted plant."

"Don't worry. . . I know . . . how y-your mind . . . works."

"Likes yours, but you hide behind a book."

If she could have, she would've laughed, but she smiled and said, "Look at us. B-bonding. Too- bad it only took for me to . . . die to do it."

"Don't say that." He said sharply, "You're not dying. Not on my watch."

He looked up to the doors, "John should be back any moment now."


John thought he saw them by the concessions table, but then they disappeared. He pulled a nearly parent and asked, who pointed him towards the front doors.


"It's . . . filled . . . with . . . with people. Needle . . . in a-a hay . . . stack. Chances . . . would . . . be better . . . if you . . . went." Her breathing was increasingly worse, and her voice was very soft.

"No, he'll find him, and I'm not leaving you by yourself. Just stay awake and keep breathing."

"Easy . . . for- you to . . . say."

"Etheldrea, stop it. You're going to be fine."

"Did . . . I ever . . . tell . . . you . . . thanks . . . for . . . saving . . . me . . . from . . . Moriarty?"

"Ethel, please stop talking."


John dashed through the crowd and finally saw Dr. Ancon with his daughter about to leave.

"Wait!" He shouted.

Dr. Ancon looked at him, startled and quickly met up with him.

John pleaded, "I need the antidote, now!"

His eyes widen, and Ancon drew out the bottle and syringe, and gave it to John. John barely managed thanks before he turned and ran back.


Sherlock was surprised when she did, and then felt her lean on him. He nudged her, but she didn't say anything.

"Etheldrea?"

No answer.

He kneeled in front of her and shook her gently. Her head lolled forward, her body grew heavy, and her breathing stopped. Sherlock grabbed and laid her out on the grass. He linked his hands together, and started doing compressions. Finally, at that moment, John burst out of the club and dashed down the steps.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He said as he prepared the antidote.

"Just hurry." Sherlock said.

John stuck the needle in her arm and pressed the plunger.

They waited.

Sherlock checked her pulse only to find none. He went back to doing compressions.

"No!" he pleaded, "No, you can't."

"Sherlock . . ."

"A child can't outlive their parent, that's not how it works! She can't- the farthest she's been is France. She's never been anywhere else; she hasn't even graduated, or joined the Yard. She hasn't gone to Italy. She's always wanted to go to Italy. I was going to surprise her at the end of summer, an early birthday. She-she-" Sherlock stopped short as his throat closed up.

He had stopped CPR, it wouldn't work now, and sat on his knees with his head down and eyes closed. It was too late, he had been too late. She was gone, taken from him without mercy. Dr. Ancon had been wrong; he could imagine the pain, was feeling it right now.

John didn't say a word, inwardly berating himself for taking so long. If only he had been faster, or told Ancon's daughter to get her dad instead of go to. He thought because of him, the Detectives daughter was dead. It hadn't even been quick, just slow agonizing breaths, her lungs pleading for air. The poison had worked its awful magic, turning her hair black, her skin pale, and making her parted lips seem bright red where small puffs of air escaped.

Wait a minute.

John grabbed her wrist and checked for a pulse. For a few moments, it seemed there was none, but- there! The smallest beating was there, getting stronger by the second.

"Sh-sherlock, look." He uttered.

He almost didn't want to believe it in the event it wasn't real, but it was. Her pulse was there, her chest was rising up and down, and even her cheeks were slightly pink. Her hair and skin of course were still affected, and would take some time to return to normal. To give them even more proof, her hands twitched, and ever so slowly her eyes opened. Immediately, they helped her sit up and gave a few moments to get her breath back.

Sherlock felt his phone vibrate and quickly checked the message.

Brown in our custody, evidence found. Do tell my niece I'm glad she's alright.

Her voice he doubted he'd hear again, still very low and soft asked, "So, we win?"

He smiled, "Yes. We win. Now, let's get back. Dr. Ancon would like to hear the news."

The three went back into the building, cautious so that no one saw them enter. Dr. Ancon looked ready to cry when he learned it was over. He thanked them, and they went home. There was still an hour left, and Etheldrea began to walk to the front doors. Sherlock stopped and grabbed her hand to pull her back.

"Hold on, we can't' just leave John here by himself, now can we?"

"What?" Both asked.

"Come on, I'm . . . almost sure there are some very interesting people here."

She shook her head, "We can leave, there's no reason to be here anymore."

"I want to be here."

Etheldrea observed him for any signs he lied, but there wasn't a single one. They went to sit at a table, and took turns pointing people out had trying to find the most detailed deductions.

Sherlock said, "Over there, he came here with his grandmother because she wants to meet his Biology teacher. Not for school related reasons either."

"Actually, that's the Geography teacher. To the right, has one hundred and three research papers to grade by Monday morning, hasn't started a single one."

"Already has finished twelve to fifteen."

"That woman is pregnant with her fourth child."

"Not her husbands."

"No, brother in laws."

"Said brother in law is father to the second daughter."

"You can't tell com this distance."

"I can."

"No, you can't."

"I can!"

"No you can't! Oh, wait, a minute. You can."

He smirked and stood up, "Told you. Wait here, I'll be back in a moment."

Etheldrea watched him disappear into the crowd, only to reaper near the DJ booth. When the current song ended, the DJ announced the last speech before the last few dances. Sherlock took up the mic. and saw as everyone turned to him. He cleared his throat and looked towards Etheldrea.

"It's been said that you don't know what you have until you lose it. That was a startling revelation for me tonight when I- when I realized how young my daughter, Etheldrea, is. It's easy to take the smaller moments for granted, and I'm extremely guilty of that. In a matter if months, she turns seventeen, and then in a couple years she graduates. Just this morning, we argued over which jam is better for attracting maggots to a decomposing arm. Considering we still bicker like children, two years seems very far. But it is going to come faster than I think. I want her to remain young and sprightly, and always ready to learn. I want her to be happy with everything in her life, and I know she has the capability to do whatever she wants. She's growing up, she's going to move on, and she has two of the most accepting, and most supporting friends I've met to help her. However, she should know that I will always be by her side."

He handed the mic. back, listened to the room clapping, and made his way towards the table he had been sitting at. When he arrived, he found that Etheldrea was gone. A hand clapped on his back and he turned to see John.

"That was really good Sherlock."

"Have you seen where she went?"

"Uh, I saw her stand but I didn't see where she went. I think she might have gone outside, but not the back way."

Sherlock left him and headed for the doors. Outside, sitting on a curb was Etheldrea. He walked over and sat down next to her, startled when he saw her crying.

"Are you hurt?" He based.

"No. I'm fine. I swear."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Tonight's been a bit overwhelming that's all. I mean, I did die."

"Hardly, John administered the antidote well within five minutes."

"But I did. I remember it, all of it. I felt panicked and scared, don't let anyone else know that, and then it was all fuzzy and then black. That's just it, black. I thought that was it. I would live in nothing but black."

"You won't. You live in Baker Street with John, Mrs. Hudson and I."

"While I'm living, but what about when I die? Is that all there is? God, sixteen and I sound like I'm sixty."

"I guess you have a certain right to."

"I mean, there's so much I could have missed. Places I've to go, people I've to meet, things I've yet to learn. It could have been over in a heartbeat. It almost was over in a heartbeat."

"But it's not. You've got so much time still, and the chance to do everything you want."

She smiled, "You really meant everything, didn't you? Always by my side? You'll never leave me?"

"Never, not once."

"You believe in me that much?"

"Yes of course."

"That makes one of us."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with me?"

"Why would anything be wrong with you?"

"Because, I get these weird things in my chest sometimes. Like a couple months ago when the bomb killed thirteen people, I felt guilty but I knew there was no reason to. Or how I feel angry and sad at the same time when I'm dealing with the kids at school. Or this whole dance thing. I shouldn't feel so- god it's so idiotic. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just my character faults."

"Guilt and sadness aren't faults. John would say they're what make us human."

"But you didn't feel guilty. We didn't do anything."

"I did."

"What?"

"I felt guilt. I knew the answer, I knew where she was. I didn't have to play the game, but I did. It nearly got you killed, twice even. If anything ever happened to you, I'd never forgive myself."

She didn't say anything more. Sherlock wrapped an arm around her, and they sat like that for a few moments.

Etheldrea looked up at the sky, "Do you ever wonder which stars make pictures."

"No."

"Me neither."

They looked at each other, and burst out laughing. Then, Sherlock stood up, reached for Etheldrea's hand, and helped her up.

"Come on, I think we can get to the final dance."

I took my love, and I took it down

I climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills

'Till the landslide brought me down

John watched his flat mates dance, smiling to himself. It was nice to see some normal from them, and nice to know that Etheldrea was happy.

Oh, mirror in the sky

What is love

Can the child within my heart rise above

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides

Can I handle the seasons of my life

I don't know

They had this night. One night to relax and have fun. There was nothing to worry about now, and nothing they had to do. It seemed like Sherlock could use nights like that as much as Etheldrea.

Well, I've been afraid of changing

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Children get older

I'm getting older too

There was so much he still had yet to learn about the two of them, and who knows what they would be going through in the next few months. Their cases were getting more and more popular. Moriarty was still out there.

I've been afraid of changing

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Children get older

I'm getting older too

I'm getting older too

They had each other, they would get through everything alright, and nothing could change that. At least that's what he thought.

So take this love, take it down

Oh, If you climb a mountain and you turn around

If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well the landslide will bring it down, down

.

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well maybe the landslide will bring it down

Well, well the landslide will bring it down.


Hopefully by the time you read this, the third story, The Woman, The Diamond, and The Pariah should be up. Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and favouriting.