Unfortunately, Bayley got a call in the morning, so I had the house to myself. I was going to hunt for answers from my dad, no matter how annoyingly persistent I had to be.

I'd sent a text when I'd first gotten up. I simply put, Listen to the voicemail I left, please. If not, let me know if we can Skype. You know why I want to talk. I wondered how Dad was taking Sherlock's return. I doubted he was delighted to have the consulting detective back. I was sure a part of him deep down was, but if he was anything like me, I knew how Dad felt: betrayed, outraged.

I mean, Sherlock had convinced him he was dead for two years. How do you forgive someone who pulled such a big thing on you? I knew Sherlock was no longer in my good books. True, he may have helped me find my father, but he nearly drove my dad into suicide with his "suicide." That asshole.

I leapt for my phone when it went off. My heart thudded in my ribs when it was from my dad. Hurriedly, I grabbed the laptop and logged into Skype. I waited with a fidgety body.

The first thing I noticed was that the background was not Dad's place. It looked eerily familiar. The next thing was that he shaved off the moustache. I couldn't help but beam at that. Finally, somebody knocked some sense into him!

"Yes, I finally got rid of it," Dad deadpanned. "Happy now?"

"Very." I leaned forward. "Tell me what you can. And where are you anyway?"

"You know where I am, Rachel."

The pieces clicked into my head. "You're back there already? Is—is he back too?"

Dad nodded.

My eyes narrowed as I took in more of his appearance. "Did something happen to you? You look a bit shaken."

"Funny you should mention that..."

"Tell me everything from the beginning. When did you know?"

"The night before it broke worldwide. It wasn't a pleasant time."

"I can imagine. Did you give him a few good punches for me?" I tried to joke. Dad glared at me. "Sorry. Continue."

"I made my position clear when he tried to get me back into the old routine."

"Well, you must've not made it strong enough if you're back there."

"I went back to work the day after—yesterday. Then things got a little...intense."

"Your father was ambushed, drugged, and shoved under a bonfire," called a deep voice.

Dad sighed. Clearly, Sherlock wasn't supposed to give away those details.

My eyes bulged. "You were put under a bonfire? By who? Why?"

"We don't know," said my dad.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'll live, Rach. Don't worry about me so much."

"I should considering you're slowly going back towards your old life." I frowned.

"He's not telling you everything, Rachel," the voice shouted again.

"I can see that," I retorted, hoping the bastard could hear me. "Look, whether or not he's telling me the truth, the good thing is that you're okay. Mary wasn't involved, was she?"

"In a way she was," Dad said. "She was the one who found out I was in danger. The person behind it kept sending her messages about me."

I lowered my voice. "Where is he in the apartment? What's he doing?"

"You know, the usual stuff. This time it's a possible terrorist threat."

"It's not possible, it is a terrorist threat," Sherlock corrected him. "We've established that."

I grabbed my head. "Oh, speaking of Mary, did you ever get around to that?"

I tensed as I heard the voice was closer. "You two can catch up any time you want. John, I need you, now."

"For what?" I snapped. "This is just as important."

"I highly doubt it, as your conversation doesn't involve terrorism or anything life-threatening."

"God, someone is a needy baby." I crossed my arms. "Well, I guess it's goodbye until I talk to you next, Dad. You can thank your other child for that. I guess that's what happens when you realize you're not the favorite." Though Sherlock wasn't in the camera, I still had reason to scowl. "Text me when you can."

I huffed as the video was disconnected. I closed the laptop and left it sitting on the table. It seemed like nothing had changed, but everything had at the same time.

* * *

I assumed Sherlock was keeping my dad busy as I didn't hear from him since the Skype call earlier this morning. The hype had died down surprisingly quickly on TV. I guess it was a one-time deal here, and I was pretty sure it was a bigger deal in England. Sherlock Holmes lived there after all.

I tapped my journal pen on the paper. I had to write, to do something. Music wasn't going to help me, and neither would going somewhere. Besides, I didn't want to go anywhere alone, even if it was in the daytime.

Dear Journal,

Sherlock Holmes is alive. He was never dead, he faked it. How, the world doesn't know. Why, the world doesn't know. The only people who know how and why are Sherlock and any other people who were involved in the plan.

This changes everything. The very man who changed my life, and my dad's, is back. I can't believe he pulled that off and decided to wander back into the world. I doubt Dad has forgiven him, I certainly haven't. I mean, he's the reason why the things that happened to my dad and me happened. Then again, he did make good things happen...

No. I can't think positively about him like that. He doesn't deserve it for pulling a stunt. He left people in pain. He doesn't take into account people's feelings when he does things.

Yet, a small part of me is relieved that he's back. Why, I don't know. I think that part of me is an idiot for being happy for Sherlock's return.

You would think I had a lot more to say, considering how pissed I was towards Sherlock. But for some reason, words failed to come to mind. I couldn't bring Sherlock back into my good books. He wasn't healthy to be around. My dad should have learned that from the first time he met the madman. And yet, even after Sherlock dragged him through hell, Dad was still talking to him, though I could sense through Skype that it wasn't as harmonious as it used to be. There was a tension I could feel through the Internet.

Maybe Dad was finally seeing that his old life needed to stay behind. Maybe he realized that his life had gotten better with Sherlock's absence and Mary's coming. I could say that my life had greatly improved since Sherlock "died." For a while, I'd forgotten about The Fall and everything that had happened prior.

But now, with Sherlock back, flashes of everything that had gone on was coming back, trying to break through the drawers I'd locked them in.

My head snapped up when Bayley came through the door. I smiled grimly, trying not to seem sullen.

"Writing again?" he said playfully.

"I've got nothing better to do."

"You could go out."

"I don't have a car."

"You could have gone out for a walk or something. Fresh air does you good, you know."

"I'm not suffering from cabin fever, I'm perfectly sane. Besides, I'm more of a home girl than a partier."

"Seriously, Rachel, you need something to do besides stay here all day. Is this what you've been doing?"

"No, I talked to my dad." A lump formed in my throat.

Bay's expression changed. "And how did that go?"

"Well, he's back all right. I heard his voice." I shut the journal, the pen tucked inside it, keeping my place. "Dad told me very little. He knew about Sherlock a day before the world did."

"How?"

"I don't know, he didn't go into detail. All I got out of it was that and that yesterday he was ambushed, knocked out, and put in danger. T-they put him in a bonfire, Bay. But he's okay, though," I added when Bay looked slightly panicked. "He's still trying to get over it."

"Who's behind it?"

"Nobody knows. It could be the same person who's planning this terrorist attack in London."

"A terrorist attack?"

"Hey, I'm lucky I know that much. Sherlock stole my dad from me before I could get more details." I curled into the couch. "Your day had to be less eventful than mine."

"Actually, it wasn't. There were a few fights in the halls today." Bayley came to sit close to me on the couch.

"Did you intervene?"

"No. And I swear I've got admirers."

I raised a curious eyebrow. "Are we talking other teachers or students?"

"Students, Rachel. One girl kept asking me questions about the assignment. I could hear two girls in another class I was covering talking about me."

"Well, I don't blame them." I smiled, laughing. "I'm sure you're the hottest substitute they've ever had." My cheeks heated up. "None of the girls tried to throw themselves at you, did they?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure a few were considering it."

I shook my head. "Hormones. They're hard to fight especially when you've got an attractive older man in the room with you."

"Too bad they don't know that I'm already taken." He reached across to grab my hands. "I should probably break the news to them gently next time."

"I can only imagine the looks on their faces. Just don't give out my name or where we live. We don't want crazy teenagers coming after me and trying to kidnap you."

"That won't happen. Even if it did, I'd be thinking about you." He looked down at our interlocked hands before meeting my green gaze again. "How about we have a little date night? You know, go out to eat and see a movie. Something simple."

"And cliché," I noted, laughing. Bay smiled sheepishly. "But that sounds great. Give me some time to get ready."

I set the journal on the table, next to the laptop, before I flitted away to shower and dress. This was definitely going to take my mind off of Sherlock's return.

A simple date night was just the thing I needed.