Dear Journal,

I don't know why I still have you. Whatever the reason, I'm glad to be writing again.

Max and Darien's wedding was a few days ago, November is coming very soon. The newlyweds are currently in Rio de Janeiro, lucky people. Too bad they didn't go early next year, around Carnival. That would be an experience.

You would think since two years have gone by that a lot has gone on. Oh, wait, there's the obvious. I've found someone now, a very good guy who's honest with me. I can thank Max and Darien, and Amanda for helping us come together.

I often wonder about Dad back in my home country of England. It's weird to associate Britain with my bloodline, as it's still a recent discovery. I know things are going well for him. Despite me staying home while he returned after my birthday, luck became his best friend. Like me, he's found a stable relationship. She'll never be my mother, but I love her, though I've never officially met her. I've only talked to her via Skype when I can on Bayley's laptop. I need to ask him, or someone, about getting me one for Christmas...

That'll be a holiday I'll never properly celebrate with my biological dad and his girlfriend, being we're countries apart.

There's this nagging topic that I know needs to get written down. So here it is.

People know Sherlock Holmes was real. It is a shame it became the truth after The Fall. Sure, they leak the story out after everything happens! Ugh, just thinking the event's name threatens to bring back awful memories. But not all of them are bad, considering Sherlock Holmes was the reason I found my real dad.

I don't have hallucinations anymore; I haven't had them for a long time. Here and there I'll have a dream involving Sherlock or...or Moriarty. My hand trembles as I write this now, as I'm reminded of all the bad memories that name gives me.

Thinking of Sherlock now brings my mind back to my dad. Does he still think about Sherlock sometimes? I don't mean to, it just happens when my mind wanders. Bayley doesn't bring him up much, not ever since I told him my past, every single detail, right down to my shoulder scar.

In fact, the scar was what started the telling of my past.

Bayley hadn't judged me, he'd been an open, quiet ear. He'd told me a bit of his past even though I'd told him practically everything of mine. Though he couldn't compare his experiences to my own, he told me about the night he and his girlfriend had gotten ambushed, how they both tried to fight back, and how he ended up with a few bullet grazes while she ended up being murdered. He sometimes still feels guilty about her death, even though he'd tried to help her.

I need to focus on better topics. Recently, my world has gone dark and now has some light in it. The darkness needs to be destroyed.

I gnawed on the end of the pen, glaring down at the almost-full two pages of the journal. If my hand hadn't cramped up, I would have written a lot more.

I rested my head on my arms on the table. I was up thanks to Bayley, who was getting ready to leave for work. I couldn't understand how he did it, be a substitute teacher. I wondered if he had aspirations to become an actual teacher. I'd have to ask him about that sometime.

I shut the journal and grabbed my iPod, opening Safari. I bit my lip, curious. I hadn't dared to search for it before, because the pain and memories were still fresh. But it'd been two years since The Fall, so why not try and find my dad's blog? I remembered him mentioning it to me once.

Feeling brave, I typed in John Watson blog on Google. I clicked the first link. I swallowed as skimmed through the site. I was tempted to look through some interesting titles, but one caught my eye. Many Happy Returns, dated October 5th. The year was unclear, only the month and day were posted.

I read through the rather short post. Long story short, Greg (Detective Inspector Lestrade) had brought stuff for my dad, stuff that had belonged to Sherlock. Dad had found this DVD, a video recording of Sherlock doing a message for my dad's birthday dinner. This had to be before I'd come into the picture.

As I read further down and got towards the end, the post almost had me in tears. I caught myself reading the majority of the ending out loud.

"'And now it's time for me to be honest. I'm meant to be keeping this blog to remind me of the good times. I know it's meant to be healthy but what's the point? I need to properly move on. I need to put it all behind me and move on. And I'm so tired of deleting comments from people who don't believe me. Who think all this is a lie. I know it was real. There are so many people out there who know that all this was real.'

"'They believed in Sherlock.'"

There was a little more after, but I'd stop reading aloud by then. I knew one of the said believers was me, though Dad hadn't directly mentioned me. I wonder if I'm in any of these entries. Unless he was to the moon and back about having a long lost daughter, I couldn't see John Watson dedicating an entire post to me.

"What are you reading?"

I jumped at Bay's voice. He chuckled, slipping his arms over me.

"I found my dad's blog," I said bleakly. "I figured I'd check it out."

"I guess that's better than Twitter or Facebook." Bayley shrugged. "Look, don't do anything to upset yourself. Don't pry into any posts that might mention..."

"But what if I want to?"

"Then you do. I won't stop you, I'll be at work."

"Shouldn't you be leaving for that now?"

"I am. Have you talked to him in a while?"

I tried to think of the last time I did. "I could try him later on. He's probably at work by now."

"You do that." Bay pecked my cheek before heading out.

I sat back in the chair and sighed. Sometimes I wished I had something to do, like a job or a hobby. Reading through my dad's blog didn't count, and neither did torturing myself by finding Facebook pages and Twitter things about Sherlock and how he was either real or a fake. Those who didn't believe he existed could go to Hell for all I cared.

He was definitely real. All of it had been real.

* * *

I figured I could get a hold of my dad while Bayley was making dinner. I knew it was getting late in London, but I was sure Dad would stay up late to see me for a little bit, even if it was through a web camera.

I'd made sure to text him ahead of time so that it could be arranged. While Bay was in the kitchen, I stole his laptop and went into the bedroom. I wanted to have a one-on-one with my dad. Bayley had talked with him a few times. Skype was how I introduced them. It was the only thing we could do.

"So this is all you've been doing for the past two years? Going nowhere?" Dad joked to me as I sat in front of the webcam. "You haven't even gone out to a bar or anything?"

"I may be of age, but that doesn't mean that I'll drink," I pointed out. "There's nothing really out here." I shrugged. "I would come down and visit you and Mary, but I can't afford it."

There was a momentary silence from Dad.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's on your mind?"

Dad fumbled for words. "T-there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Dad, I'm telling you, if I was engaged or pregnant, I would have told you by now."

"No, no, it's not that. But thanks for reassuring me."

"Where's Mary?"

"She's in bed. She knows I like to talk to you late at night." He cleared his throat. "Rachel, I'm...I'm thinking about asking her to marry me."

I blinked rapidly. My heart pounded. I should have known this was going to come up sometime. "W-wow. That's—that's something."

"I wanted to talk it over with you because, well, you're my daughter, and I want to make sure you're okay with it."

"Why wouldn't I be?" I forced a laugh out.

"You're not happy about it, are you?"

"Dad," I whimpered. "I am, it's just...it's a little hard to process. It's something that I need to work through." I rubbed the back of my neck. Ever since I'd found my dad, I'd be worried about him marrying another woman. I'd never known my mother, as I was adopted when I was very young, and she died in a car accident when I was three.

To have my recently-found dad marry someone who wasn't my mother wasn't an idea I was fond of.

"Don't let me keep you from doing it," I said to break the silence further. "If she makes you happy, then by all means ask her." I smiled. "She may not be my mother, but I really do like her."

"Even though you've never officially met."

"We will at the wedding. By the way, you're shaving for it, right?"

Ever since we parted ways in July 2010, my dad decided to grow a moustache. It made him look much older than he was. The moustache made him look like my grandfather.

"Why does it bother you so much?" Dad complained in a whisper. "It's not hurting you or me, is it?"

"No. It's just...there, on your face. Did I ever tell you how much it ages you?"

"Repeatedly. I'm not getting rid of it, Rachel."

"Doesn't Mary get fed up with bristly kisses?" I snickered.

"She's never voiced anything about it."

"I'm telling you, Dad, ditch the moustache, for all our sakes."

"What will you do if I don't?"

"Well, if a wedding is happening, I'll be in London. I'll shave it off you while I'm there."

Dad scowled. "You wouldn't."

"Let's not threaten your dad now," Bayley interrupted, coming into the bedroom. "Dinner's ready. Hello, Doctor Watson."

"Bayley, call me John like I've asked," Dad said. "So, can I expect a similar talk from you soon, Rachel?"

I coughed. "I don't know. Wait! Do you have any idea how you're going to do it?"

"I've got an idea or two."

"Let me help you on it. Please."

"I'll consider it if I don't do it before I talk to you next."

"Alright. Goodnight, Dad." With shaking arms, I shut down Bay's laptop and followed him out for dinner.

We ate in silence, with forks hitting plates, mouths chewing spaghetti and slurping single strands. I looked at anywhere but Bayley, as he kept throwing glances at me from across the table. Was Dad's marriage proposal affecting me that much?

It wasn't until Bay and I were snuggling in bed when he brought it up.

"So what were you talking vaguely about?" he asked.

"My dad wants to propose to Mary." I felt a lump in my throat.

"Wow, that's a big move."

"Tell me about it."

"And are you onboard with it?"

"I am, but like I told him, it's something that I need to work through on my own. I know I shouldn't react how I am, it's just...I don't know." My fingers skimmed Bayley's face, brushing small hairs. I looked up at him. "You're growing out too?"

"Just a little bit. It's something different."

"Don't have a caterpillar like my dad has on his face, please. I am not dealing with hairy kisses." I wrinkled my nose.

Bay laughed. "I promise it will only be a little bit. It'll give me a bad boy look."

I scoffed. "You don't have a bad bone in your body, Bay."

"Not that you know of," he said cryptically.

I raised an eyebrow. "Just what have you done that's so bad?"

"I won't tell you."

"You probably haven't done anything bad."

He kissed my temple. I sighed as he peppered kisses on my face. I nuzzled my head into his neck, nestling it on the area where he had the bullet graze scars.

For both Watsons, things were looking up. We found someone, Dad was about to propose, and it was possible that there was a marriage proposal in my future.

The worst was behind us, left in the year 2010.