Walking Toward the End

"Eveline," I heard. "Can you hear me?"

My mind went into overdrive, recounting the past hour. I had seen my father. I followed him into the cave. He'd shot Sherlock and ran off. In my attempt to follow him, somehow I managed to get knocked out.
"Evie."
My eyes shot open and I lurched to a sitting position, hitting someone with my forehead.
"Ow..." I pressed my hand to my head.
My fingers came back wet. I was bleeding, but not from sitting up. I opened my eyes. To my right was John, blinking his eyes back into focus. I looked up, which hadn't occurred to check earlier. The ceiling of the cave was threatening to cave in on us. Right behind my head was a pile of rubble.
"What happened?" John asked.
"But..." I trailed off. "Where's Sherlock?"
"Back at the cafe," he looks at me cautiously. "Why?"
My eyebrows drew together. "How long was I out?"
He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I only just found you."
The daze I was in cleared and I saw the hints of daylight intruding the darkness of the cave. I pushed myself to my feet, ignoring the throbbing in my head and John's attempts at getting me to sit back down.
"Have you seen my dad?" I asked.
"Your dad?" He repeated.
"Yes, John, my father! Did you see him?" I sped up my pace towards the open.
"No. Why would he be here?"
I shook my head and took out my phone. The number was still saved to my contacts.
"Psychiatric Ward, how may I help you?"
"Hi, I wanted to check on my father today, but I can't make it. William Owens." I told him.
A keyboard tapped in the background.
"Ah, here he is." The man said. "He's doing excellent, actually. The only problem; he's been having the flu lately. He's in the next room, if you'd like to talk to him."
"No. I just wanted to make sure he was okay."
I hung up, the information rotating in my head.
"Evie, who were you calling?" John asked.
"I need to talk to Sherlock," I walked as fast as my stiff muscles and aching head would allow.

-x-

John was in the Ministry of Defense base while Sherlock told me how everything had happened.
"Henry expected to see the hound, but you didn't," he told me, "you were sure--quite correctly--that it was a figment of his imagination. Instead you imagined something you're afraid of. Your father with a gun."
He pressed a button and John's key card didn't open the door.
"And why are we trapping John?" I asked.
"I have to be sure what's causing it."
I thought he just wanted to mess with him. Sherlock put a recording of growling up to the speaker as we watched John over the security cameras. He was frantic, hiding in a cage by now.
"It's okay, John," Sherlock told him over the phone. "Just tell me what you see."
I smiled to myself. Emma would have loved seeing this, but we took her to the airport an hour earlier. She protested multiple times, but I wasn't taking any more chances. At that point, I was glad I didn't have many friends in London, that way it was harder for Moriarty to get to me.
Sherlock hung up and exited the surveillance room, with me trailing.

-x-

I pulled open my laptop and it lit up. I was about to make an update about the new case we had that week, when Emma called me on Skype.
"Hey, Emma!" I said, trying to conceal my suspicion that she wasn't using video like she always does.
She sniffled on the other end. "G-guess who," her voice shook.
I motioned for Sherlock to listen, suddenly thankful my laptop didn't have a camera.
"You sh-should be getting a ca-all from Lestrade about now. I'm sorry I couldn't vis-it your friend in person, but long-term will work as well. D-don't try finding her...this isn't the g-ame."
She sobbed. "I-it is a message."
A click, a bang, and the message disconnected.

My throat closed and I had to force myself to breathe. By now, John was listening and was staring at the blank page. I shut my laptop and walked out the door. I started running, not knowing where I was going. I think I subconsciously did, though, because when I stopped running I found myself at the field where I went on my first case with Sherlock. Then I started screaming. It was the only thing I could think to do, because tears refused to come. Most of the time I held it together, but then nothing came when I needed it. My screams continued until my throat burned. It's my fault. It was my fault. If I had kept her in London, she would not have been alone. We could have protected her, but I played right into Moriarty's trap, and my best friend died because of my ego. I thought I was one step ahead of Moriarty.

I forgot to look before I fell.