A/N: hey guys!

Aaaah, a new chapter! yes, I know I'm super crap at uploading regularly. Whenever I had time, I thought "Oh, you have time, you can do something else first" and whenever I wanted to write, I didn't have time -.-

So sorry (again) for the long wait (i think that by now there is an apology in every chapter oop-).

Well, but here's the new chapter: hope you enjoy reading and take care!

-jawn

When John let the door fall shut behind him, the monotonous bang was the only sound echoing in the stairwell. Generally, it was also the only sound. Just his own breathing and that of Rosie in his arms interrupted the silence that seemed to fill the whole house. It seemed almost too loud to him. Strange. How could something be so silent when his own head just seemed to be bursting with thoughts?

He sighed and then set about making his way down the steps.

The answer to that was simple. The house didn't care. No one else cared because no one else knew.

While he was on the verge of despair right now, Mrs Hudson was probably just having tea or vacuuming or whatever else she did in the late afternoon, probably not even expecting visitors. And though it was absurd, downright ridiculous, John couldn't help but feel a muted anger rising inside him. No. Anger was the wrong word...frustration. Yes, frustration was what darkened his gaze and made his brows draw together, which he had tried to hide from Carrie.

Damn, her desperation was certainly a hell of a lot greater than his own and if she had little hope for Juliet herself, then at least Sherlock and himself had to give it to her. Okay, Sherlock maybe not necessarily, but him. However, John had never exactly been an acting talent and right now all this crap felt a lot more like acting than reality.

More ungently than he intended, he landed on the dark wooden floor as he took the last step of the stairs with a small jump.

Dammit, was that just it now? Had that been all? Would this case, which had seemed so mundane at first, become one of the few cases he and Sherlock had failed to solve? Would Juliet simply remain missing, leaving not only Carrie but Sherlock and him to wonder forever what had become of her? What had happened to her? Jesus, that sounded so dramatic. But it was true. Carrie would, he would. And so would Sherlock, he knew that.

A mirthless laugh rose up his throat that he could just about stifle.

Even Sherlock Holmes, probably the best detective who had ever lived, seemed at a loss. They couldn't even get on with deciphering the last message and even that would only be another step towards what seemed to be a fairly distant goal, unless Sherlock had had another of his intellectual fits without his knowledge. But as far as John knew, he hadn't. And if Sherlock Holmes couldn't solve a puzzle, neither would anyone else. Not him, not Carrie and not Scotland Yard anyway. Probably not even Mycroft - not that that was really up for debate. That would put a lifelong dent in Sherlock's Mount Everest high ego.

With a jerk, he stopped in front of the dark wooden door and released an arm from his daughter to knock. Although it was only October, there was already a small Christmas wreath hanging from it, decorated with a somewhat crooked red bow. He almost smiled because it suited Mrs Hudson so well, but in the end only stroked the thin fabric with his index finger to straighten it. To no avail. No sooner had he withdrawn his hand than the bow collapsed again and hung slackly back down by the door as before. John sighed and put his arm around Rosie again.

"Are you excited?" he asked her, trying not to sound too distressed, though he didn't really succeed. His voice sounded about as cheerful as someone who had just found out their dog had died.

Rosie raised her head and nodded. Apparently she didn't seem to have picked up on his disgruntled mood, because she looked as if the only thing left in the world for her were toys and sweets. Her eyes sparkled with exactly the same anticipation as they had earlier when he had first uttered the magic word.

John pulled up one corner of his mouth and stroked her cheek. At least someone was in a good mood here.

At that moment there was a click and in the next the door opened. He averted his eyes from Rosie and looked into a slightly wrinkled but friendly face, into which a surprised expression entered when it saw who was standing at the door.

"John."

Mrs. Hudson opened the door fully, revealing the purple floral dress over which she wore a blue and white chequered apron. Her hair was a bit dishevelled, as usual, and what looked like dough was stuck to her cheek. Apparently she had been baking. If that couldn't be luck.

"I thought Rosie was staying today with...well with whatever it is you're doing," she said, but then stepped aside to let them in. "But please, come-"

"No, thank you."

John raised a hand to silence her.

"The visit is quite spontaneous and I don't have much time. Rosie was supposed to stay, but..."

It took a moment for the questioning expression in her eyes to disappear as she seemed to understand.

"But the Sherlock Holmes job remains a Sherlock Holmes job," she finished his sentence.

John replied in a strange mixture of nod and helpless shrug.

With a barely perceptible nod, she sighed softly and a touch of guilty conscience came over him. He should have thought of that. He didn't want to get such unannounced visits either, especially not in the quantity she had been getting lately. And now he was at her door again because he needed a babysitter, even though she was obviously living out her free time.

"Sorry," he said, taking a step back. "Such visits are really inappropriate. I can understand, of course, if you-"

"Oh nonsense, that's not the point."

Mrs Hudson cut him off with a wave and then knocked some white powder off her apron.

"Visits from my little dear are never inappropriate."

She brushed a strand of hair from her face and threw a quick smile in Rosie's direction.

"Except I wasn't actually planning on cooking for dinner tonight, as you might see, so I'd have to do some..."

"Oh, that's no problem."

John leaned down a little until he was level with Rosie's ear, and struck a mysterious tone on the next sentence.

"Actually, she's just here for the sweets."

Rosie began to giggle and playfully punched him in the arm because her cheeks were flushed bright red. With a grin, John straightened up and the wrinkles in Mrs Hudson's forehead smoothed out too. She returned his smile before turning back to Rosie and leaning down to her as well.

"Well, let's go build you towers of sweets, shall we?" she asked in exactly the same mysterious tone.

Breathing a little easier around his chest, John heaved a sigh of relief. He owed her something for that. Again. In general, he owed her quite a bit when he remembered how many times she had stepped in to take Rosie in some emergency. They didn't really have a set arrangement as to how often Rosie should or was allowed to come to her, but Mrs. Hudson certainly hadn't thought as often as lately. John should buy her flowers. Or invite her for tea or something.

With that resolution in mind, he loosened his grip around Rosie's hips to carefully hand them to Mrs Hudson. Even though Rosie was not oversized for a toddler, she had grown quite a bit recently and at two and a half years old was actually able to walk by herself. That's why Mrs. Hudson staggered briefly when she had to hold her entire weight with her admittedly somewhat thin arms, so that John instinctively stretched out his arms to grab her if necessary. But Mrs Hudson didn't let on as she regained her balance and jutted her chin, making John smile again.

"You're getting old," he said. "We both are."

"Oh no, no, no, dear," she objected, shaking her head decisively. "I'm not getting old, I'm just getting better."

A snort escaped him. Maybe she was.

Just as he was about to launch into a farewell, however, something else interrupted him. Or rather, someone.

"Daddy?"

Rosie, who had been watching the scratched doorframe with interest until now, had turned in his direction and was looking at him. She had put her index finger to her lips and there was such an innocent expression on her face that even a puppy dog wouldn't have been able to compete with it.

John took a step closer and leaned down to her.

"Yes?"
She lowered her hand and looked at him out of wide eyes.

"You'll come later, won't you?"

The innocent expression took on a sad tinge at her question that made John's heart tighten.

"You're coming to play."

Involuntarily, his muscles tensed and he had to swallow the rising lump in his throat. He hated lies, even more so when he told them himself.

"Of course I do, love. I'll come by later."

He forced a smile onto his face and ran a quick hand through her hair again before straightening up. The worried expression on Rosie's face disappeared. She clasped her hands together and looked at Mrs Hudson with the same look of anticipation from earlier.

"Can we start now then? Please?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded and promised to start immediately in a second before turning to John again. There was the same expression in her eyes now that he had seen on Rosie earlier. She knew he probably wouldn't be able to make it and she would have to bring Rosie over herself or have her sleep over. But she kept quiet and at that moment John was more than grateful to her for that.

"Thanks again," he said. "Really. I'm in your debt for that."

Mrs Hudson released one arm from Rosie's waist to pat his shoulder somewhat awkwardly. For a moment John feared she was about to lose her balance again and collapse, but she held herself firmly on her feet.

"I'm happy to do it," she assured him. "She's like a grandchild to me."

He wanted to reply something, but the words stuck in his throat as he looked into her smiling face and discovered nothing but sincerity and loyalty. People like her...heavens, people like her should exist more.

He cleared his throat as she lowered her arm, then nodded.

"All the same," he said. "Thanks. Let's hope we can finish the candy tower together later."

The half-hearted smile on his face now joined Mrs Hudson's as he pressed one last kiss to Rosie's hair before finally turning away and heading back towards the stairs. Into the silence of the house. The silence into the house. Whatever.

A sigh crossed his lips as he took the first step on the way back to his flat, where a bigger problem than building a candy tower awaited him. A much bigger one.