The helicopter flew above Appledore. At the same time, armed police marksmen were sprinting for the patio. The helicopter put a spotlight on us on the patio while it hovered above the ground yards away. It's about time, Mycroft. You couldn't have gotten here earlier, you know, before Magnussen had fun hitting my dad's face? Wiggy should have given him a smaller dose so he could have woken up quicker and gotten here faster.

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Rachel Watson," Mycroft's voice rang above the wind from the helicopter. "Stand away from that man."

Since Magnussen was facing the helicopter and the men, I ran to Dad's side, trying to not be blinded by the spotlight trained on us.

"Here we go, Mr. Holmes!" Magnussen shouted.

"To clarify: Appledore's vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there," Sherlock bellowed over the roaring wind.

Magnussen had his gaze on the helicopter. "They're not real. They never have been."

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Rachel Watson. Step away," Mycroft repeated. I probably would have had I not froze like a deer in headlights.

Magnussen took a few steps towards the helicopter, waving his hands. "It's fine! They're harmless!"

I swallowed, afraid of the armed men lined up in front of the patio. Their rifles were aimed towards us. Truthfully, I couldn't think of a time where I'd been so scared in my life.

"Sherlock, what do we do?" Dad yelled to Sherlock.

"Nothing!" Magnussen said. He looked at us. "There's nothing to be done! Oh, I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a business-man, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them! Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Rachel Watson," Mycroft interrupted. "Stand away from that man. Do it now."

"Oh, do your research," Sherlock said loudly. Before I knew it, Sherlock was on the other side of me, advancing towards Magnussen. "I'm not a hero; I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!"

I almost didn't believe it happened, Sherlock did it so quickly.

He raised a gun—where it came from; I had no idea—and aimed it at Magnussen. I screamed as the shot hit Magnussen square in the forehead. As Magnussen's body was heading for the ground, Sherlock tossed away the gun, facing the helicopter and the marksmen, his hands up.

"Get away from me, John, Rachel!" Sherlock demanded. "Stay well back!"

"Christ, Sherlock!" Dad exclaimed.

"Stand fire!" Mycroft commanded. "Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!"

"Rachel, get back here!"

I hadn't realized my legs were moving until Dad shouted my name. Sherlock turned to look at me.

"No, Rachel, I said get back," he shouted. "Stop right where you are." My legs obeyed him. "Put your hands up and get back with John. Do it now, Rachel. I'm not asking you."

With labored breathing, I gave a curt nod, slowly having my hands up first. With teary eyes, I backed up to be close to my dad.

"Oh, Christ, Sherlock," Dad whispered, his voice full of despair.

"Give my love to Mary. Tell her she's safe now."

Sherlock turned back to face the marksmen and the helicopter. With snail slowness, he dropped to his knees.

I accidentally looked towards Magnussen's still form on the patio. I yelped, squeezing my eyes before turning my head the other way. I'm not going to vomit; I'm not going to vomit.

Oh, Sherlock, you've really done it this time.

* * *

Sherlock was to be shipped off somewhere either tomorrow or the day after, I wasn't sure. I couldn't remember which day since I had been in too much anguish to pay attention. In the very back of my mind, I could hear Moriarty laughing. I could picture him beaming.

Once the situation at Appledore was finished, Dad and I headed back to the Holmes' residence.

It took a while before Dad and I got back to his place. I'd stopped at the hotel I was staying at and checked out earlier than expected. I wanted the comfort of family right now; I wasn't going to get it in a hotel room.

I was lying across the loveseat, staring blankly into space. I cringed, replaying Appledore in my head. The world's most dangerous blackmailer was dead thanks to a high-functioning sociopath. I fiddled with air, once again forgetting the anniversary necklace was in Bayley's hands. I needed something to channel my nerves right now.

Currently, Dad was telling Mary what had gone on at Appledore in another room. My insides tightened.

Sherlock was going to be shipped off in either a day or two days' time. For his good deed he was being sent off. Well, murder was murder and would never been seen as a good deed even if the murdered was a bad person.

I was tempted to write in my journal, but I knew I wouldn't write legibly—my hand would shake too much. There was nothing I could do to suppress Appledore for the moment.

Hot tears fell down my face. This felt like The Fall all over again, only this time Sherlock had murdered someone. Nobody had committed suicide this time. My breaths hitched.

For some reason, the thought hadn't occurred to me until just now. It had to be because I'd been caught off guard by Sherlock committing murder. By doing so, he saved the entire Watson family. I couldn't help but remember Sherlock's vow he'd made at Dad's wedding. Whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there, always. He hadn't made the vow to me directly, as most of attendants hadn't known the little secret of John Watson having a daughter. Still, it did pertain to me.

There was no one in the world that could compare to Sherlock Holmes. He lived up to his vow; he saved my family. If Sherlock's actions didn't prove that he really would do anything for my dad, then I didn't know what did.

"Oh, she's out," Mary noted quietly. "We shouldn't bother her. The poor thing, she's been crying."

"She hasn't been taking it well," Dad agreed. "I was surprised she didn't react worse when it happened."

"Do you think she's up to talking about it?"

"Mary."

"I'm not saying now, I'm saying when she's awake." I felt a heavy blanket get draped over me.

"You may not be the ideal person to talk to about it."

"She needs to talk to someone about it."

"Then let me when she wants to, if she does. I was there with her; she'll want to talk to someone who was there."

"So he's leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Dad sounded pained. "I'm not worried about her now; I worry about her when he leaves."

"Why?"

"She's attached to him. They get along much better than they had when they first met. He thought she was a spy for Moriarty the second time we met her."

Mary gasped. "You're joking."

"Nope. I think saying goodbye may be hard on her."

"It will be for you too. For both of you. Do you think she's going to be okay out here tonight?"

"What are you suggesting? That she stays in our bed?" Dad joked. "Mary, she's not a child."

"What if she gets nightmares overnight, John?"

"Then one of us will hear her and go to her."

"What if we don't hear her, though?"

"Mary, relax. Rachel is one of the strongest women I've ever seen. A little nightmare won't get the better of her. It takes a lot to get to her."

"Gee, like Sherlock murdering Magnussen? Like Moriarty's corpse on St. Bart's rooftop? Do you even know this for a fact, that her nightmares don't bother her?"

"Well, no..."

"Then how can you be sure she won't be traumatized?" Mary insisted. "We should at least let her sleep in our room; she'd have to settle for the floor."

"She's fine right where she is."

"Maybe one of us should camp out here with her."

"You can if you're so worried about her. Come on, let's go to bed."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Truthfully, I don't know."

I felt someone kiss the top of my head before they both disappeared, taking their footsteps with them. I barely opened my eyes, checking to see if the coast was clear. I poked my head up, feeling the blanket over me. No matter if I held a lifetime grudge on Mary, she would always love me like her daughter. It was proved by what I'd just heard. I couldn't help but smile. I knew Mary was going to be a great mother to my half-sibling.

Maybe it was time I forgave her. It was still Christmas after all, though it felt like another normal day in London for me. This holiday was overshadowed by a murder and an arrest.