Save Yourself

I sat on the front steps of my house, waiting for Abigail to get home from school. These days, she assured me that all nearly-seven year olds walk home from school. She'd made friends fast, thankfully, though I'd worried moving her to an entirely new country would be hard. Somehow, through all of this, she'd adapted rather nicely, despite looking in Sherlock's refrigerator one day and getting a rather ghastly surprise...

"Look at you, actually reading the book I lent you." Sherlock's voice sounded from the gate at the front of the house, it clanging behind him.

"Well, I had to have something to do in the middle of all of this moving. Besides, Abby wants, like, fifty people at her birthday and I keep telling her werewolves are not real nor are they for rent. I have to stop letting you babysit."

"I do not babysit," Sherlock scoffed, "Mrs. Hudson attempts at babysitting and halfway through she falls asleep, leaving me to keep your child from burning down the house."

"Or drinking jars of water with head in them."

"That was formaldehyde."

"Oh, even better!" I laughed, noticing a package in his hands, "What's that?"

Sherlock shifted uncomfortable, "Present for Abigail."

"Her birthday isn't until next week."

"I am, unfortunately, not going to be able to make it."

"She'll be devastated," I sighed, taking the package from him, walking inside to place it on the table near the front door. Sherlock didn't follow, choosing to stand in the garden. I returned to him, trying to figure out exactly what was going on, "I've read the papers, you know. Sherlock, you hardly come by anymore, you're never there when I come by. What's going on with you?"

"I can't really explain that right now," He said, now walking toward me, taking my hand in his, "All I need you to do is make sure Abigail gets that present and to know that I care about you very much."

My brow wrinkled in response, "Sherlock, what the fuck?"

I could see Abigail approaching in the distance, Sherlock seemed to be tongue tied. Quickly, he kissed me. Not something bullshit on the side of my face, fully kissed me on the lips - something he hadn't done since that night in the hotel room.

"I have to go, I am... sorry." Sherlock stared at the ground, before walking behind the house to take the back exit. I could tell he was avoiding Abigail, though I wasn't sure why. I stood in front of the house, speechless, trying to figure out exactly what had gone on.

"How was your day at school, sweetie?" I asked, taking Abigail's bag from her.

"It was okay," She shrugged, waltzing into the house, immediately noticing the carefully-wrapped package on the table, "What's that?"

"Sherlock left a birthday present for you. He's not going to be able to come to your party, honey, but he said he loves you very much."

Abigail crossed her arms, sticking out her lower lip, "No, he didn't. My classmates said he's a robot."

"Your classmates need to stop watching the television." I muttered, ushering her upstairs toward her room. I sighed, deciding to start dinner. It was beyond me when I'd become such a homemaker, but with no job and a six-year-old, it sort-of just happened.

Once dinner was finished, homework was done, and Abigail was put to bed hours later, I finally found myself sitting in my living room, the same book back in my hand, when the doorbell rang. I cursed, praying it hadn't woken Abigail up.

John stood at my door, absolutely no facial expression on him. It was then my heart dropped, realizing John had never visited me or called since I moved out. I didn't blame him, we'd never become very close, but Sherlock appearing earlier, everything...

"He's been hurt, hasn't he?" I asked, the world seemingly going silent at his response. My mind couldn't process the information, refused to believe it. The book Sherlock had given me fell to the ground as John's arms reached out to hold me up.

Somewhere, in the distance, I could hear someone screaming, but I wasn't aware until much later it had been my own.