A/N: Okay, oh my gawd. Hello.

It's been SO long since I updated this story - last year (ok, but siriusly half year ago). I'm so sorry for keeping y'all (if anyone is still reading this lol) waiting for so long. I know that's no excuse, but i've been really incredibly busy and hardly had time to write anything or just be online. For the new year, however, i have resolved to be more active again (hope i can do it) :P

But how are y'all doing? Did you have a nice christmas and a good start into the new year? (if you celebrated it (and it's so late sorry))

Thanks to everyone who is still reading this, and also also a hugeee thanks to @turtely for taking the time to proofread this <3

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Lots of love <3

-jawn

When the door swung open with a quiet creak, it seemed to John almost as loud as a thunderclap, it was that silent. The subliminal hope that maybe there had been some kind of miracle and that there was at least some sign of progress in his flat was extinguished like a candle by a gush of water in an instant. The door hit the wall with a soft thud and then... Nothing. Not a single sign of life such as rustling papers when Sherlock turned the entire flat upside down once again, or such frantic soliloquies that no human being but himself understood. Nothing. Just that damned, deafening silence again.

John would've liked to follow the door and hit the wall with it. But that wouldn't do anything either except bruise him. Harder than necessary, he slammed it shut with his foot behind him.

What had he expected? He hadn't been gone five minutes. And Sherlock might be a goddamn genius, but even a genius needed a solution approach to solve a problem and they didn't have one. No, wrong. The problem wasn't that they didn't have one, but that they had too many. Way, way too many.

They could fly to Chicago and look for one particular family called "Cubitt" out of about 50,000 other families called like that, only to end up finding that Juliet's family had died in a car accident 5 years ago or had been abducted by the Mafia right away. Or aliens. That would probably still be more likely than finding the right one out of those 50,000 families.

John ran his hand through his hair and shook his head.

Great prospects.

With a sigh, he set off, inwardly bracing himself for the worst: Carriecrying, Sherlock desperately googling for something or even calling hisbrother. Just thethought of it made him cringe.

But all his fears proved moot when he stepped around the corner into the living room and paused. Not a single one of them was waiting for him. No, instead, something else awaited him. Something much, much worse.

Damn.

The sparse grey light that had filled the room all day had only grown dimmer, as if to further emphasise the tense atmosphere that filled the entire room and seemed to electrify every particle of air. Nothing had been moved or thrown around, only the mess from this morning took up a significant part of the floor. And in the middle of it: Carrie and Sherlock.

Both fitted perfectly into the picture and at the same time not at all.

They did'nt look at each other. Both seemed rather as if they were in their own world. Completely...absent.

The curl that John had noticed earlier still hung just as languidly in Sherlock's forehead as it had a few minutes ago, confirming his apprehension that he hadn't lifted a finger since then. And Carrie didn't seem to have moved much either. She sat tensely in her chair in a different way, not quite as statuesque as Sherlock, but still as motionless as before John had gone. Such an obvious hopelessness emanated from her that it made the tension seem almost pathetic.

The same bag Carrie had brought with her when they first met was still clutched tightly in her lap and you would have thought it was the first visit of an uninteresting case if John hadn't known better.

Nothing. That was the worse thing that had been waiting for John. The absolute nothingness of immutability.

This sight hit him harder than he had expected and he inwardly cursed himself for the fact that this goddamn spark of hope in him had apparently still not been completely extinguished.

Damn it. Damn the case. Bloody crap and bloody goddamn case.

He would've really liked to kick something now, but he was standing in the middle of the doorway and he didn't want to look like a defiant toddler in front of either of them. However, he could only swallow his rising frustration with difficulty.

Neither of them seemed to have noticed him yet. Sherlock didn't anyway, but Carrie also seemed to have forgotten where she was.

Stiffly and slowly, he started to move. From the corner of his eye, when he pushed past her, he could see how she flinched slightly and then lifted her head to look at him. John could feel her gaze at his back until he sat down. His movements seemed unnatural, observed.

A little uncomfortably, he slid back and forth on the cushion of his armchair until there was no longer any reason to avoid her gaze. He raised his eyes and looked at her.

"Excuse me," he then interrupted the silence.

His voice seemed as loud as the creaking of the door.

Carrie still looked slightly confused, as if she needed to recover from a shock. Perhaps the shock of failure. Her bright eyes reflected nothing but the displeasure with which John was probably looking at her himself right now.

"That was my daughter Rosie. I don't think I've properly introduced her yet. I've been promising to play with her all day, so..."

He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, not quite knowing why he had said that. Since when did he apologise like that to clients? He had never done that with other cases.

Carrie, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice this unusualness. Instead, it seemed to be exactly what brought her out of her trance, for she raised her hands and shook her head.

"Really," she replied, giving him a confirming look, "No problem. As I said, I know it myself. When both parents are busy...", she shrugged,"...all hell is let loose."

She smiled, but it didn't seem genuine.

John felt an uncomfortable feeling spread through him as he slowly understood what Carrie had just said.

Both parents. Both parents.

A cough crept up his throat that he just managed to stifle. Now it was his turn to shake his head and mimic Carrie's gesture with his hands.

"Oh no."

He tried a laugh but failed miserably.

"We...we're not...Rosie's not...she...she..."

Jesus Christ, get a grip.

John broke off and pulled himself together.

"Rosie is the daughter of me and my former wife," he finished his sentence and his smile failed at least as woefully as Carrie's.

Her friendly expression fell flat on the spot and her cheeks took on a rosy hue.

"Oh no, sorry. I didn't...I didn't mean that. I know Rosie is your daughter. I um...well I read your blog."

Her expression darkened a little.

"I'm very sorry by the way."

John would have preferred to sink into the depths of his chair, he felt so uncomfortable.

Oh great. What kind of impression did that give?

At the same time, ironically, a faint surge of pleasure came over him when he heard Carrie apparently knew about the blog.

He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes to the floor.

"Thank you," he said, then fell back into silence.

He had only mentioned Mary's death once, very briefly, as well as the wedding. It had been a separate entry, but it had been ages ago. And it was short. Perhaps the shortest he had ever written. Mary and all that stuff in general had always been a part of his life that he hadn't wanted to share with anyone but the people he knew. And not even with all of those. So it surprised him even more now that readers of his blog could remember it. Sometimes it felt like an eternity since he had written it. Yet he could still remember every single word.

Hello.

John could see the bitter expression on his face in his mind's eye with which he had written those words that day.

Some time has passed, I know. Actually I had planned never to write in here again, but since there seem to be people who actually read this, I finally decided to do so.

Maybe some of you have already heard about it from whatever source, but my wife passed away. So yes, a lot has changed and not least because of that.

That' s why this will probably be my last post. I thank you for all the loyal readers who have followed Sherlock and me on our cases all these years.

However, I think the game is over here.

All the best,

Dr. John H. Watson

Thinking about it now, it all seemed rather dramatic to him. Especially in view of the fact that pretty much the exact opposite of the last paragraph had come true. But anyway. Now was not the time to think about it.

He shook his head slightly to return to the present and then raised it.

Carrie had averted her eyes as well and in some way that relieved him. It gave him a moment to sort of collect himself again.

With another clearing of his throat, he broke the silence and pushed aside the thoughts of just now.

"So," he began, in an as casual a tone as possible. "You have siblings?"

Carrie turned her gaze back to him and then nodded, apparently as willing to talk about something else as he was.

"Yes," she explained without stopping to nod. "Two little brothers. Will and Jason. Although little is probably an exaggeration by now. They're pretty much teenagers. Even if they still act like four most of the time."

She smiled and John saw love flicker between the amusement in her eyes.

He smiled as well.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, I can relate to that. Though my daughter acts like she's older than me more often than not too."

A soft laugh escaped Carrie. John didn't know what it was - maybe relief that the conversation had turned in a different direction after all, maybe the unfamiliar sound - But something about her laughter caused some tension to leave his body and the light suddenly didn't seem so gloomy anymore.

Jesus, cheesy.

Her laughter slowly died away and Carrie turned her eyes away again to look out the window. Suddenly lost in thought, she lapsed for a brief moment back into that absent silence John already knew from earlier.

A few seconds passed before she broke it again.

"Juliet loved them both," she said then.

John no longer saw her eyes, but even so knew that all of he amusement was gone now.

"And they loved her."

John stopped short. The sudden change of mood threw him off for a moment.

"So...," he searched for the right words for a moment, "...did Juliet...know your family?"

He didn't quite manage to keep the astonishment out of his voice.

Somehow, subconsciously, he had just...assumed that Juliet didn't know Carrie's family any more than Carrie knew Juliet's. Student life, you know. Carrie had never said anything of the sort. Actually pretty silly, since they were such good friends.

"Yes," she replied.

From the side, John could see a slight smile forming on her lips.

"I don't know hers, but..." she shrugged, "...Mine loved her. She was like a part of us, even though we spent most of our time in college, of course. She celebrated Thanksgiving with us, Christmas...all those things. The weekends, once I went home."

Before John could ask, she explained on her own.

"My parents live Weymouth, right on the coast. And because I don't have a car yet, it's quite a bit of a drive to get there."

She sighed

"That's why we could hardly see them last term, and even the one before that, because we had so many exams. Juliet once more didn't, because she's one year over me and graduating soon."

Her gaze took on something wistful and hardly seemed to really address the window anymore. Instead, it was like...looking through it, but into a whole other world.

"She always wanted to be a teacher."

Carrie spoke so softly now that John struggled to understand her despite the silence.

"A good one. One you can trust. Who not only imparts knowledge, but understanding, love. Like a kind of...family. As far as you can tell in a profession like this."

She smiled briefly again, hardly joyfully, before the absent expression returned to her face.

"She could never talk about it with her own family. That's what she told me."

"So they weren't supportive of Juliet?"

Carrie blinked, as if Johns question brought her back to reality, and shook her head. She turned it back to him and her gaze was clear as she looked at him again.

"No," she replied, shaking her head.

"Absolutely not. The few times Juliet has spoken about them, it was always in a bad tone."

She hesitated for a moment.

"I...I remember asking her something similar to what you just asked me once and she replied that in a prison, you're unlikely to be granted any freedoms or dreams."

Carrie sighed.

"I guess that says it all. Maybe that was the reason she just left? I don't know. What do I know..."

She lowered her eyelids and even without words John understood what she was trying to say: That she didn't want to talk about it any more. Could. Had to.

Leaning back in his chair, a soft sigh escaped his lips as well.

He would definitely not force her. What good would do that anyways? It was nothing they didn't already know. Just more details in all the mess they already had. More mess.

Silence reigned once more in the ever-darkening room, greeting John once more like an old friend - Thoughhe, on the other hand, seemed the only one to notice it. Welcome back, he thought gloomily, and could do nothing about the fact that his face was slowly but noticeably adjusting again to the light in the room. Or rather, to the darkness.

Without his doing, his gaze slowly drifted from Carrie back to Sherlock.

As it lingered on him, John almost sighed again.

He was sitting in his chair just as he had been the last time John had looked at him.

For a brief moment, the idea occurred to him that he should get up and pour a glass of water on Sherlock so that he could hear what John would scream at him then.

It wasn't even Sherlock's fault, even though it didn't really make it any better. At least then John would have someone to be angry with. But it was no more Sherlock's fault, that they didn't have a single goddamn clue about anything even remotely related to this case, any more than John's was his own. If anything, John should probably be shouting at himself for not coming up with a new thought.

He raised his arms and crossed them in front of his chest.

A new curl had fallen into Sherlock's forehead. That had changed.

A curl and his gaze, no longer fixed on nothing but on the client diagonally beside-

Wait.

John blinked.

His gaze. Sherlock's gaze had changed. Not just the direction he had been looking (if you could call it a direction), but his gaze as well. He no longer seemed fixed and absent, probably lost somewhere in his mind palace, but attentive towards Carrie. And there was something in it. Something vivid.

John dropped his arms.

Things were not as they had been. How had he not noticed that?!

"Sherlock?" he asked.

From one second to the next his pulse had quickened.

Sherlock blinked as if, like Carrie, he had only been brought back from an even deeper sleep.

For a moment John feared that he would now revert to his state of rigidity (in which case he would probably really pour a glass of water over his head), but in the very next moment his head jerked to the side and his look pierced into John's. In his ice-blue eyes was...realisation. That was what John had just seen. Realisation and a heap of energy.

Involuntarily, he slid back and forth in his chair and he felt that energy somehow enter his bloodstream and spread as a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Sherlock?" he asked again and with a quick sideways glance he saw that Carrie was looking at him as nervously as he was.

"What's wrong?"

Sherlock swallowed and the next moment he jumped up from the chair as suddenly as his head had jerked up. John flinched.

"John," he said, his voice dripping with the kind of enthusiasm one normally heard only from toddlers in a toy shop.

Under other circumstances, John would have leaned back in relief at the sound, if the situation hadn't been so damned tense. Now he merely raised his eyebrows and looked at him, waiting.

What the hell had happened?

The hint of a smile spread across Sherlock's lips.

"I think we have a new track."