"I'm so special I get a police escort?" I teased as I carried my things. "Wow, Dad is really going through a lot of trouble for me."

"It's for a good occasion." Greg smiled. "It's good to see you again, Rachel."

"Likewise. Um, a little help?"

Being a gentleman, Greg helped me put my things in the back of his car. We both clambered back in, and Greg took off. Even though I barely knew Greg, I felt at ease around him. I think it was because he was part of Scotland Yard, and he was on good terms with my dad.

"So, anything new happen while I've been away?" I asked, keeping my eyes fixed out the window.

"Not really. Nothing major, aside from..."

"Yeah, I know." I looked down at my hands, then out the windshield. "That's the major headline, isn't it? Britain's detective returns. Nobody knows how or why he did it."

"How's your life been since you moved back?"

Someone's eager to change topics. "I've got a question for you first: Did Dad tell you about me or did you figure it out?"

"He told me. It shocked me just as much as it did him when you two found out."

"It's strange, isn't it?" I agreed. "But I'm glad that mystery is put to rest."

"What do you think of Mary?"

"I think she's going to be great for my dad. Really, every time I talk to him, he looks ten times happier than I've ever seen him."

"He told me about his brief stay with you in America."

My face fell a bit. "Yeah. It was a rough time." I cleared my throat.

Greg and I continued to start little conversations in between pockets of silence in the car. I'd made sure to text my dad that I'd found Greg and that we were coming. But wait...where are we going?

"So, did they tell you much about the wedding plans?" Greg asked, going onto another subject.

"No, but I have a feeling they will once we get there. Speaking of which, where are we going?"

Greg didn't answer me right away. This caused me to look at him. He looked hesitant. An alarm rang in my head.

"No." I shook my head vigorously. "You aren't. You're not."

Greg sighed, dipping his head slightly. "It was better if you didn't know."

"Why?"

"Because we knew you'd react like this and not want to come back if you were told."

"Take me somewhere else other than Baker Street. I'm not going there."

"Rachel, everyone is there except for us."

"I'd rather be dropped off at Dad's place and wait for them there."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? Did he order you to not?"

"No, I don't know where they live."

"Oh." I swallowed. "You know, I've been kept in the dark about a few things since I've talked to my dad last. Like this terrorist threat on London, whatever happened to that?"

"It was foiled. The bomb was disarmed."

"There was a bomb?"

"Mhm, a carriage bomb."

"Wow. That sounds...intense."

"It was for your dad and Sherlock."

I snorted. "I should have known Sherlock would endanger my dad like that. He's not getting any younger, and he's got a fiancée now. He can't afford to go running off on cases that can be the death of him."

"Old habits die hard, Rachel."

"I'm sure this one will once he's married. He can't be expected to tag along with Sherlock on every new case he gets at that point. Dad won't have the time, he'll have other commitments."

My mood plummeted into my feet the moment I saw the familiar, famous 221B Baker Street door. This time, it was bombarded with people. No doubt they were reporters and photographers. The police escort made sense now.

"I won't let them eat you alive, I promise," Greg assured me. "We'll deal with your bags later. Come on."

"Why not just wait them out?"

"Rachel, I had to walk out that door with them hounding. If I had to deal with them, you do too."

My stomach knotted uneasily. The last thing I needed was for the media to get a hold of my face. I didn't want to be seen on any form of news whether paper, Internet, or TV. For some reason, I felt petrified, not because of what awaited me on the other side of the door, but by the crowd lurking. What would they suspect if they caught sight of me? That Dad was cheating on Mary? What if the media said Sherlock had me as a girlfriend? What if they paired me and Greg?

"I know it's going to be uncomfortable for you," Greg said softly. "But you've got to go through with it."

"You're right, I can't avoid it." I exhaled slowly. "Can I ask you a favor, Greg?"

"Sure."

"If things go bad, let them play out. Intervening will only make things worse." On that blunt note, I slipped out of the car. I waited for Greg before I faced the mob surrounding 221B.

Greg kept me close as we were pursued by camera clicks and microphones in our faces. With some pushing and shoving, he urged me through the door first before slamming it shut behind him. I breathed a little easier after that.

"Phase one is out of the way," I teased. Greg cracked a smile.

My attention went to the stairwell that led me to the apartment I knew all too well. I remembered all the times I went up and down these squeaky steps.

"You can't turn back now," Greg reminded me.

I sighed heavily. "I know. I better face it now instead of later." I trembled but forced myself up the stairs.

The doorway was open, judging by how the voices floated down. I couldn't distinguish one voice from another, they all blended together. What am I walking into? A party? I couldn't picture the apartment with a bunch of people in it. The most I'd known the place to have was a little more than five, and that had been when Sherlock had been arrested.

"Do you think she can handle it? She's practically the last one to see him." I picked out Mary's voice. My ears perked up when I knew she was mentioning me. My blood boiled at the vague reference of Sherlock. "It could be like our dinner all over again."

"She might take it differently," said another voice. My dad, I realized. "We won't know until she sees him."

Once I was able to see inside, I acted as though those comments never reached me. Mrs. Hudson was the first to spot me. She squealed, scuttling to hug me.

"It's been ages, Rachel!" she exclaimed. She looked me over. "Have you gotten taller?"

"Just older, not taller." I grinned. My eyes roamed to see the rest of the visitors. In addition to Mrs. Hudson was Mary, my dad, Greg who was behind me, and two other people who I didn't know. The one person who I had a bone to pick with was absent from the room. But he's definitely here. He has to be.

"It's nice to actually meet you." Mary got off the loveseat to shake my hand. I nodded to her. "I thought I was going to have to wait longer."

"So much for that. Did I miss the celebration?"

"You didn't, but it wasn't much of one to begin with. Oh! Rachel, this is Molly Hooper and her fiancé, Tom." Mary gestured to the two unfamiliar people.

Molly looked like the sweetest girl in the world; her face gave off that vibe to me. Her eyes were a darker shade of brown than her hair. Her fiancé, Tom, looked a bit attractive, but his overall appearance reminded me eerily of Sherlock. They were no identical twins, Sherlock and Tom, but their features looked somewhat similar, not to mention Tom's outfit kind of screamed Sherlock. I wondered if he was a wannabe or something. I couldn't rule out the possible chance of his attire saying something about Molly, like she was in love with Sherlock or something.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," Molly said. Her voice was low but oozed in sweetness. "I've heard a bit about you."

I raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh, well, I can't say the same about you. I've been told nothing about you."

"Well, that can always change." Molly smiled. I liked her already.

"So, what's the situation exactly?" I asked, getting down to business. I focused on my dad and Mary. "Is there a date set? Wait. You don't have a ring, Mary."

"John didn't propose."

"I thought you did?" I threw a befuddled look to my dad.

"I did," he interjected, "but we were, er, interrupted. Regardless, we've got a date set. Sometime in May."

"A spring wedding!" Mrs. Hudson gushed.

"So technically you aren't engaged." I was trying to wrap my head around this. I'd assumed Mary had the ring on her finger. We were interrupted. For some reason, I had a feeling the interruption was a certain someone I had yet to confront.

The room fell eerily silent very quickly. I didn't pick up on it until I looked where all the other eyes did.

I could finally believe it. I'd heard the voice over Skype, now I could see the person it belonged to. The person who I'd seen fall off St. Bart's two years ago. The person who'd helped me find my biological father.

I almost thought he was a hallucination, like he had been after he'd fallen off of St. Bart's rooftop. He looked the same as he had the last time I'd seen him, but the only difference was that he was wearing a purple shirt instead of the usual white I remembered him wearing. He could have worn purple at some point while I was here in 221B; I probably never paid close attention.

I wasn't sure how to react. Sure, I'd known for a few days now that he was back in London, but to have him standing in front of me was something entirely different.

I knew I wasn't about to faint, I was much stronger than that. For God's sake, I'd been face to face with a psychopath, so a reunion shouldn't send me into a fainting spell.

I was waiting for a break in the tense, awkward silence, but no relief came. I couldn't pull my emotions apart; there were too many churning inside.

I had no idea what made me do it. It had to have been because I couldn't figure out how I wanted to feel at the moment. Instead of letting my anger get the better of me, something else took hold.

For whatever reason, I crossed the gap between the consulting detective and myself in a few fluent strides. I hugged him, clung to him to make sure he was real and that I wasn't seeing things again. He didn't stiffen under me like I expected, but I could tell the action caught him off guard.

I was sure our spectators were stunned as well by the sight. I was astonished myself at how well I was taking this. But I knew it was only a matter of time before things went south.

Tears squeezed out of my eyes, tears of happiness. For so long, ever since The Fall had happened, I'd wished it was one big hoax, that it hadn't been real. I never knew it was actually going to come true.

I stepped back before I popped Sherlock. I could tell he was catching up on his new deductions of me; his blue-gray eyes wouldn't stop staring. I wasn't shaken by his examining gaze.

"She's taking this surprisingly well," I heard Mrs. Hudson whisper, though everyone could hear her with the silence in the room.

With all the force and focus I could muster, I socked Sherlock across the face. Relief was overtaken by rage. I felt the need to attack him, to make him pay for doing such a horrible thing. He'd left the world, left those who considered him a friend. His "death" nearly made my dad shoot his brains out! I'd been seeing things and was God knows how close to taking medication for it or being thrown into an institution!

I lunged for Sherlock just as he was in a daze by my left hook.

Pairs of arms restrained me. I made a high noise of annoyance as I was pulled away from Sherlock, closer to everyone else.

"You spoke too soon, Mrs. Hudson," Dad sighed. He was one of my captors. I was sure Greg and Molly's fiancé—Tom?—were assisting him.

"You deserve that, you bastard," I spat at Sherlock. He lightly touched his struck face. I felt my knuckles throbbing. "You deserve a hell of a lot more!"

"Okay, let's get you somewhere to calm down," Greg said calmly.

I continued to struggle against the men. "I'm not a child."

"Currently you're acting like one."

Instead of moving me into another room, Dad escorted Sherlock out. Once they were out of earshot, I felt myself relax. That man infuriated me. Just the sight of him pissed me off.

My heightened mood was deflated when I realized I'd made a scene during a happy occasion. I held back embarrassed tears.

"I-I'm sorry you all had to see that," I whispered.

"We should have known better," Mary simpered. "You weren't ready. We were wrong in thinking you could handle it. Let her go, she's not going to chase after him."

I plopped myself on my once makeshift bed—the couch—feeling drained. Mrs. Hudson took one side of me while Mary took the other. Molly looked down at me sympathetically. I was sure everyone took Sherlock's return more maturely than I had. Well, the only exception could be my dad on that one.

"So, um," I cleared my throat, "you and my dad figured out where I'm staying?"

Mary didn't meet my eyes. My heart dropped. "We can always find you a hotel or someplace," she suggested quietly.

"You—you thought I was actually going to stay here? With him? Whose bright idea was that?"

"You could always stay with me," Mrs. Hudson offered. "It may not be as big as here, but I'm sure I could find you a place to get comfortable." I couldn't help but smile at the little landlady. She had such a big heart.

"Can I have some time to think on it?" I looked back and forth between the two women. "I would rather relax and catch up on things, not to mention get to know you two a little better." I looked to Molly and Tom.

"Well, where do we start?" Molly asked.

"I can start as to how I got into all this." I gestured to the apartment, which I still realized had the yellow smiley face painted on the wall. For some reason, I couldn't help but smile at that. I quickly wiped the smile off my face when I remembered who did damage to the wall.

Once I started my tale, I had a room full of listeners.

**Was there any other song to have except the same as when John attacked Sherlock after he realized the detective wasn't dead?

Oh, Rach.**