*Flashback*

Dear Journal,

The wedding is getting closer. It's weird to think about it. Mary helped the bridesmaids choose dresses. Janine, the maid of honor, and I picked strapless ones. I think one bridesmaid decided to have thick straps on hers. Well, to each their own. It's not like we have to match, Mary said we didn't have to. Well, the color is the only thing that needs to coordinate.

That whole case with the guardsman is, sadly, unsolved. Well, I guess everything can't be explained. Maybe someone will find the answer to it. Or not.

Despite how weird it will sound, I'm okay with having Mary as a stepmother. She's a real sweetheart, but it's not the same. She's not my mother.

Courtney. My dad's first long-term girlfriend.

I'm tearing up thinking about her. How much different our lives would have been had she told my dad about me. What if we had stayed together? I would have an accent like my parents! Dad would have never met Sherlock, either. He would have never met Mary, either, or be prepared to marry her.

No matter what path, there are happy times in them.

Bayley is getting kind of annoyed with being apart from me for this long. I can't believe I'm thinking it, but, I think he's jealous of Sherlock. I laugh as I write this. It's silly to be jealous of him. Sure, he gets to be around me. That's what I want Bayley's jealousy to be about, but I know it isn't.

I don't see why Bay is worrying, though. Nothing is going to change my feelings about him.

"You're just like your father."

I winced as I felt Sherlock breathing down my neck. I shut the journal. "Excuse me, nosy. This is private and not yours."

"Since when did you find someone else?"

"When you vanished off the face of the earth," I retorted. "Why do you care? You're not hoping he's a psychopath too, are you?"

"Why would I?"

"You don't have a case right now. You might get bored and resort to shooting the wall again." I thought of the bulleted smiley lurking on the wall. "Oh, when the wedding comes around and if you get to meet him, be nice."

"That's asking a lot."

"I don't want you to drive him off." I sniffed. "We have something strong, and I don't want you to burn it down in less than twenty-four hours." I noticed Sherlock's attire. "Going somewhere?"

"Out."

"Oh. Did you find a case after all?"

"No, I told you. Your father and I are having a stag night."

I racked my brain. "Um, no, you never told me that."

"You weren't listening."

I rubbed my face. "Why are you putting me through this torture?"

"What torture?"

"You'll come home drunk as anything. Oh my God, what are you like drunk?"

"We'll know tonight when I come back."

"If you do. You may end up passed out somewhere, or in jail. If I get a call early in the morning from Greg saying I need to come get you two, I'm filing a restraining order for my dad against you."

"That's a bit extreme for a stag night, don't you think? Just don't turn everything upside down while I'm gone. I'll know if anything has been changed." He started to head for the door.

"You'd be too drunk, so you wouldn't."

* * *

"I sometimes wish I was back in England," Bay told me over the phone. "I kind of miss the country."

"Then fly down here," I suggested. "You miss me so badly, why not fly down and see me?"

"And miss plenty of chances to substitute? As tempting as the offer is, Rachel, I'll have to pass, though it kills me."

I rolled my eyes. "You'll live."

"How are wedding preparations going?"

"Okay." I shrugged. "From what I've seen, Dad's about fed up with deciding on things. I think guys would be, considering their future wife is asking them about a lot of things. I think some of that stress seeps into them from their wives."

"Have you been talking to anybody besides me since you've been in London?"

I chewed on my lip, thinking. "I haven't." I blanched. "God, I'm an awful person! I've been bored for so many days, and I don't think to talk to anybody besides you." I smacked my forehead. "I've made myself antisocial. I blame Sherlock."

"I'm surprised Madison and Kendal haven't been pestering you."

"Give it time, they'll unload on me one day," I assured him. "As long as they do it over the phone instead of Skype, it won't be so bad."

"Rachel!" Mrs. Hudson's high voice rang from down the stairs.

"Who's that?"

"Mrs. Hudson, the landlady. She's really nice, you'll meet her at the wedding," I told him.

"Rachel!"

"She sounds like she needs you," Bay noted.

"I guess so. I'll talk to you soon."

"Make sure to talk to other people besides me, Rach."

"I'll try." I giggled.

"Love you."

"Love you, Bay."

I shoved my phone in my pocket before heading downstairs. I was mostly down the flight before I saw two bodies lying across the last few stairs. I recognized the figures. I licked my lips nervously.

"How bad are they?" I asked the landlady.

"All I have to say is good luck, dear."

"With what?"

"You don't honestly believe they'll walk up the stairs great, do you?"

"You mean I'm going to have to help them?"

"Come on, Rach, be a good girl and give us a hand," Sherlock slurred. My eyes widened. This looks like him, but it doesn't sound like him.

"Alright, let's take this nice and easy."

Let me tell you, pulling two drunken men on to their feet on stairs was no easy task. I had to call on all my strength. Getting Dad up on his feet was much easier than Sherlock. They both stumbled their way up the stairs as I watched. Mrs. Hudson tutted.

"Have you ever seen either of them like this?" I asked her, sort of hopeful.

"Oh, no, I haven't, I'm afraid. You're on your own."

"Lovely." I grimaced.

"I'm sure they won't be too difficult to handle, Rachel. Don't worry yourself."

"You're only saying that because you aren't the one who's going to be with them."

"You can always go out."

"I don't think I have that option. I feel obligated to make sure they don't do anything stupid like hurt each other or make Baker Street explode or something."

"Oh, well, good luck with that."

"I'll need it."

Dreading what sight awaited me, I headed back upstairs.

There was no shouting or roaring laughter, so I assumed they were both knocked out. Hmm, maybe this won't be so bad after all. But when I got into the apartment, they weren't snoozing. They were still awake, but they looked half awake. More like drunk.

I watched them curiously. Both were sitting in their respective chairs. I noticed Sherlock had a piece of paper stuck to his forehead. I didn't know what the game was called, but I understood the basics of it. You asked yes or no questions until you guessed what you were. Of course, I wondered how much harder it was when you had God only knew how many drinks. I wasn't sure if I'd come across them during the game or if they had just started.

"So I am human," Sherlock listed. "I'm not as tall as people think I am..." He sat back in the chair. "I'm—I'm nice-ish...clever, important to some people, but I tend to rub them the wrong way." The laugh he gave out was so unusual I thought he was possessed. His laugh wasn't possessed though, it sounded like a genuine, hearty laugh.

Alcohol made Sherlock happy. That was a scary thought.

"Got it."

"Go on, then," Dad pressed him.

"I'm you, aren't I?"

I kept quiet as I entered so as to not disturb their little game. I didn't want to be noticed. I didn't want to be roped into anything. I wanted them to crash where they sat and sleep peacefully so we could all have an easy night. If the night went like that, then I wouldn't have reason to yell at Sherlock tomorrow morning.

"Ooh-ooh!" Mrs. Hudson's traditional greeting rang out. I whirled around to see her accompanying a woman in a nurse's outfit. "Client!"

"Hallo," Dad slurred.

"Hallo," Sherlock mimicked him, one upping my dad with a wave. Mrs. Hudson left before I could even ask her if this was a good idea, handing them a client in their current states.

"Come in," I told her, waving her in.

"Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?" she asked.

Dad drew out one long note of a whistle through his teeth at the same time he slowly pointed towards Sherlock. I threw the woman an apologetic glance.

"Alright, boys, the fun is over," I declared. "Time to get down to business."

Surprisingly, neither one of them fought me on it. I guess alcohol brought cooperation too. Who knew?

It didn't take long for their game to be put away. While those two got situated, I pulled out a chair for the woman to sit in. Dad and Sherlock took up most of my makeshift bed, forcing me to sit on the floor. I didn't want to risk sitting in between them. I knew if I did something weird or awkward would happen.

"Sorry, I'm new at this," I told her. "What's your name?"

"Tessa."

"I'm Rachel, and, well, you know who these two are."

"One question before we start: why are you here?"

"That's not important. So...I guess you just tell us what's going on, and we listen."

"Are they going to make it through?" She eyed the duo behind me warily.

"I'll make sure they do." I smiled to make her feel better. "Go on, start talking."

"I don't...a lot...I mean, I don't...date all that much...and...he seemed...nice, you know? We seemed to automatically connect. We had one night—dinner, such interesting conversation. It was...lovely. To be honest, I'd love to have it gone further."

I swatted away someone's hand, which was trying to stroke my head like a dog's.

"But I thought, 'No, this is special. Let's take it slowly...exchange numbers.'" I nodded, making Tessa know I was paying good attention. "He said he'd get in touch and then..." Her eyes downcast to the floor. "Maybe he wasn't quite as keen as I was...but I—I just thought" I could see the tears ready to fall, "at least he'd call to say that we were finished."

I wanted to grab Tessa a tissue, but she'd already wiped the tear away before I could even ask.

"I went round there, to his flat." Her voice seemed to sound stronger this time. "No trace of him, Mr. Holmes...I honestly think I had dinner...with a ghost."

I refrained from not questioning her right off the bat. This sounded interesting.

I felt brief pressure on my head. My eyebrows came together.

"Mr. Holmes?" Tessa prompted. She got no answer. "With a ghost, Mr. Holmes."

The moment I whipped around, Sherlock got himself upright. I noticed Dad's eyes were closed. Was this what they were doing the entire time during Tessa's story? Was I the only one listening? I had a hunch as to why I felt what I did on my head: Sherlock had probably supported himself with me.

"Boring, boring, boring—no!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Fascinating!" He looked to my dad. "John—John! Wake up!" Between Sherlock and me, we nudged my dad awake. I turned my focus back to Tessa. My heart ached for her. I hated that she had to see them like this, that I was the only sober one aside from her. "Apologies about my...you know...thing." Sherlock took in a breath, clearing his throat. "Rude. Rude!"

"Let me apologize for their behavior," I told Tessa. "Really, they're never like this, I promise."

"I checked with the landlord, and the man who lived there died," Tessa went on. "Heart attack. And there we are, having dinner one week on." She grabbed her purse, digging through it. "And I found this thing online, sort of chat room thing..." I grabbed the paper from her—I wasn't about to let Sherlock or my dad get a hold of it. "For girls who think they're dating men from the spirit world."

I stood up, stretching my legs. Beside me, Sherlock got to his feet. He leaned on me a little bit for support, glancing at the paper from over my shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said to Tessa. "I'll find him in ten minutes." I shot the consulting detective an odd glance. I looked back to Tessa. The poor girl, she was smiling, actually believing him. I wasn't sure how effective his finding-a-ghost-in-ten-minutes was going to be with him in his drunken state. "What's your dog's name?"

"Yeah, I'm there if you want it," I heard my dad mutter. I looked over my shoulder to see he'd nodded off again. I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

"John! Wake up!" Sherlock demanded. He pushed Dad's shoulder, nearly knocking my dad over sideways. "We're meant to," he snapped his fingers, "the game's...something." He knocked into me as he lumbered towards the door.

Meanwhile, Dad looked like he was trying to focus.

"On," he said.

Tessa gasped.

"Yeah, that, that!" Sherlock agreed. He continued his original course.

"Okay!" Tessa stood up.

"Hold on, I need to come along," I voiced.

"That's not necessary, Rach," Dad told me as he slowly got his butt off the couch. "You stay here. We've got this."

"No, you don't."

"Listen to him," Sherlock slurred. "He knows what he's talking about."

"He doesn't," I clarified. "Neither of you do!"

"They'll be fine," Tessa told me. I gave her a skeptical look. "They'll solve this in no time."

I shook my head as the trio left, leaving me steaming. Well, I guess the only thing left for me to do is change, sleep, and hope that I don't get a call from Greg in the morning. Feeling drained, my motivation for going after Tessa, Sherlock, and Dad dissolved. Once I was changed, I pulled a blanket tight around me. I made sure to have the phone on the table, on the highest volume possible.

Just in case.