I had to make sure I had everything: every little piece of clothing, every precautionary toiletry, my journal. I took inventory twice to make sure I hadn't missed anything or forgotten anything back at Baker Street.

My flight was leaving in two hours, so I checked out of the hotel. I was tempted to text Bayley, but I remembered the time difference. He would still be sleeping, being that it was five in the morning in Maryland. He wasn't going to be up for at least another hour and a half. I decided to let him sleep as I got in the cab.

Hopefully the next time I come here is much later. The next time I'd come, I'd have a half-sibling. Would they resemble their parents equally, or would they look more like one parent compared to the other? I knew I was a mix of my dad and mom; I had my mom's green eyes and probably her dark hair. My dad didn't have hair as dark as my natural color.

If I'd gotten up early and thought about it, I could have stopped by Baker Street to visit Mrs. Hudson. I could always still call her. I'm sure she'd enjoy that every now and again. Sometimes I wished I could bring her home with me.

Once I climbed out of the cab with my things, the only thing separating me from home was time and checkpoints. Feeling eager to be home and remain in a time zone for a while, I briskly trotted in. The airport seemed to be a little less full compared to the last time I'd been in here. Once I got through security, I had some time left over, so I bought myself a breakfast sandwich. I ate as I searched for my terminal.

I found my terminal after maneuvering past people going the opposite way I was. I planted my butt in one of the seats, realizing I had some minutes to kill. I pulled out my journal and a pen, tapping it briefly before writing.

Dear Journal,

Well, it's done. The wedding is over. Compared to Max and Darien's, this was far more interesting. There's too much to go into, but let's just say Sherlock managed to solve two cases in a day, though one was much earlier than the one at the wedding. I know Kendal and Madison will freak out when I tell them the story, they're such Sherlock fanatics. If they ever meet him, I hope their attitudes change. True, he may be very intelligent, but he's still an ass.

Mary Morstan is now Mary Watson. She is also the mother of my father's second child. I'm not happy with it. Maybe it's First-Born Syndrome, because I feel threatened by this newcomer. It's pretty sad to think that I should be intimidated by a being that isn't even born yet.

I think this is just temporary; my mind is still trying to process it all. Just like with my impression of Mary taking Dad's last name, I'll come to realize that they'll be happy, that their baby will be a good thing in their life. I need to push the negative emotion out of me first before I can be happy for them.

"I wouldn't recommend trying to board."

My head snapped up. What the hell? I jumped away as I realized Sherlock was next to me. When did he get here? I wasn't writing that long!

"When did you—how—? Are you stalking me?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

"What did you do?" I growled.

"I'll never tell." His blue-gray eyes observed passersby.

"Don't tell me you plan to leave London."

"I came here for you."

"Me? Why?"

Sherlock hesitated. "I need help with a case."

"You can't disturb my dad's honeymoon and ask him?"

"You think I haven't tried? He made his position quite clear."
"What about Greg?"

"Who?"

I sighed. "Lestrade. Why not ask him? Why bother me when I'm close to going home?"

"I know you won't refuse." He looked at me, throwing me a coy smile.

I frowned. "I already booked this flight. I'm not giving it up for you, Sherlock."

"Well, technically, you didn't book it."

I groaned. "You didn't put a price on my head, did you? Why are you sabotaging my ride home?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Nothing ever is with you."

"I need you, Rachel."

"You don't sound very needy," I deadpanned.

The boarding announcement was made. Lithely, I leapt to my feet, trying to escape Sherlock. I took a step before he had me by the arm. I clenched a hand into a fist. My other hand had the urge to knock him on the head with my journal, not that it would hurt him much. "You won't give up, will you?"

"I'm telling you, you won't be allowed to board."

I stood erect, spinning around to face the consulting detective. "Why should I stay behind? Why should I help you on a case? That's not my thing, Sherlock. I'm not my dad."

"Aren't you listening? I need you. You're the only one aside from John I trust to room with me."

"You can trust Greg too, you know. And I'm sure there are other people you could go to."

"Do you seriously think anyone would be willing to stay at Baker Street with me? Do you think anyone would be willing to put up with me as much as you and John have?"

I pursed my lips, contemplating. "I guess not." My shoulders sagged a little. "If I try to run, you'll stop me, won't you?"

"I think we both know the answer to that."

I caved, knowing Sherlock would do anything to keep me from flying away. "Fine, but everyone is going to suspect that something happened to the flight, or that I got abducted."

"In a manner of speaking, you are being abducted. Now come on, we need to discuss the price for staying with me."

"Isn't putting up with you enough?"

* * *

As you could imagine, Bayley was pretty pissed when he learned Sherlock got me into another case.

"Do you even know what it is?" he asked me.

"I've been trying to get details from him, but he's not saying anything." I was pacing in the kitchen, looking out to see Sherlock hovering over his laptop. "He's got to give me something eventually, otherwise I can't help him."

"I swear, if you end up hurt because of him..."

"Bay, Sherlock is my dad's best friend. He won't let anything happen to me."

"I still don't like this."

"I'm not happy about it either, but he wouldn't give up." I sighed. "Look, I'll try to help him solve this quickly so he can let me come home."

"Just say the word, and I'll get the police on him and have him arrested for kidnapping." Bayley sounded more serious than playful.

"That won't be necessary. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Fine."

"Hey. I love you."

Bay's voice brightened a bit. "I love you too, Rach. Just be careful."

I lumbered into the living room, looking out the windows. Night was in full swing over London. I blew out a breath noisily.

"Bored, are we?" Sherlock asked, not taking his eyes off the laptop screen.

"Just a bit."

"I don't think there's a gun around to help that."

"I'm not shooting at the wall. Nobody needs that." I crept closer, peeking over his shoulder. Sherlock had various articles and tabs open, all pertaining to one man: Charles Augustus Magnussen. He looked like a creepy guy, with eyes that held no life in them that hid behind glasses. "Is this your new case?"

"No."

"Who is he?"

"A man you should know nothing about, Rachel."

"Come on."

"No."

"But—"

I jumped back as Sherlock jumped out of his chair, blocking my view of the laptop. He glowered down at me with intense eyes. "Don't ask me about him again. Do you understand?"

"Why?"

"Don't. Ask. Me. About. Him. Again." Sherlock seemed to lean in with each word spoken. Our breaths were practically coming together in the small space between us.

"Fine. Then what about Irene Adler? You never told me anything about her."

"Yes, I know. Don't ask about her, either."

"Then what do I ask you about? This case you need my help on? If it's not involving this Magnussen guy, then why am I here?"

"I do need your help, but it's not with Magnussen. Isn't it time for you to sleep?"

"Excuse me, I'm not seven, and you're not my babysitter."

"If you don't go away, Rachel, I'll make you sleep."

I swallowed, backing off. Knowing Sherlock, he had many ways to knock me out. I thought back to almost three years ago, when he'd stopped me from stopping him from meeting up with Moriarty on St. Bart's rooftop. I inwardly flinched, not wanting a repeat of that.

"Fine, if you're going to be like this, don't expect my help to come easily," I snapped. I slithered away to the couch, occupying myself with my iPod.

If all Sherlock wanted me here for was for a verbal punching bag, he was going to have a rough time, because this punching bag was going to fight back.

**Hmm, me thinks that Sherlock wants a replacement Watson already.**