Knowing that John would keep me up-to-date about Mrs. Hudson, I turned on my heel and walked back towards the lab. As I was about halfway there, I saw the door open. Thinking on the fly, I ducked behind the closest corner I could find. I peeked around to see Sherlock coming out. I quickly pulled my head back when I thought he was looking my way.

My heart sprinted in my chest. Just where was he going? After a quick minute, I peered around again. I just barely caught a flash of his black trench coat. Curiosity got the better of me.

Feeling a little ambitious, I calmly began pursuing Sherlock from a safe distance. At times, I did a fast trot so I wouldn't lose him. I knew something had been off. I scowled as I thought of the possibility. What if Mrs. Hudson wasn't actually shot? What if it was some trick that Sherlock conjured up so he could get John and me out of the picture?

If that suspicion was right, then what purpose would that serve him?

I continued to think about whether or not Mrs. Hudson was really injured as I continued to stalk Sherlock.

Employees working in St. Bart's didn't see my behavior as unusual, they paid me no mind. On occasion, I flashed a few people a smile as they did so to me when I passed. I kept myself focused.

I stopped against another corner, looking past. Sure enough, I found Sherlock in his trench coat. I squinted to get a better look. My legs moved before my body told them to. Like a cat, I crept down the hall, making sure to not make too much noise. If Sherlock knew I was following him, he'd surely lecture me, or insult me. I had a feeling the latter would be more likely.

I didn't stop as Sherlock disappeared through a door. I sucked in a sharp breath, picking up my pace. The door was almost halfway closed, still continuing to shut, as I reached it. I slipped through with plenty of room to spare.

Once the door clicked shut, temporary silence fell over the stairwell. I tiptoed to the railing, looking down. We seemed to be up a good few flights already. My head snapped up to the upper flights of stairs.

Faint echoing footsteps told me Sherlock was taking his good old time heading up. Just how far are you going, Sherlock? To where? And why? Biting my lip, I snuck up the stairs, making sure to not stomp my feet.

I sometimes took two steps at a time as I kept a close tab on Sherlock. My theory kept running through my brain. If Sherlock had made someone else make that fake call about Mrs. Hudson to get John and me out of St. Bart's, what was the reason?

The longer I made the treacherous climb up the never-ending stairs, I realized the gap between Sherlock and I was shrinking. I wasn't about to let the small gap grow. I continued to lightly hop up the steps.

As I completed yet another flight of stairs, I was literally feet from Sherlock's calmly fleeing figure.

My heart skipped a beat when he stopped in the middle of his current flight.

"Like I said before, you would be a terrible spy," he murmured.

I halted abruptly. Slowly, he turned. I shot him a dark look.

"You should have continued with just your socks on. Maybe then I wouldn't have guessed you were following me."

"You would still know somehow." I put my palms against the cool wall behind me. "How did you know?"

"First mistake, you pulled away too late on your first corner. I just caught you." A smile wobbled on his face. "Second mistake, your shoes scuffled on the tile. Though you may have thought I wouldn't notice, I did. You thought it would blend in with others passing by. Last mistake, you took the time to look and see how far up you were. I looked down and easily saw you."

"Okay, I get it. I shouldn't get a job that requires sneaking around," I moaned. "What are you up to? Are you heading for the roof or something?" Something in Sherlock's eyes told me "yes." "Why...?" My mouth dropped, a sudden piece to the puzzle clicked in my head. I shook my head vigorously. "No. You're not doing it."

"Doing what?"

"You're going to meet with him, aren't you?" I couldn't even bring myself to say the name. "It's not a good idea. You're going to be face to face with him."

"I have been before, if you remember."

"Yes, but on a rooftop, Sherlock? There won't be any witnesses—well, not unless you count me."

"What makes you think I would let you go up there and confront Moriarty with me?" His tone became cold.

"The man has caused me pain."

"He would hurt you a lot more if you went with me."

"Do you even know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't be meeting him if I didn't."

I shook my head. "You're not going up there."

"Oh, am I supposed to believe you will stop me?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm stopping you now, aren't I?"

"You're delaying me."

"You don't know what he's capable of." I put my hands on my hips.

"Oh I think I do. Do you?"

"I've been around him, of course I do."

"Even now, you aren't sure." Sherlock blinked, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Go back, Rachel, now. This isn't your place to be."

I stomped up the stairs to stare up at Sherlock. "Nothing you can say will stop me from going up there with you."

Sherlock's blue-gray eyes bored into mine. "I found your father."

It took me a second to recover from his statement. "I don't buy it. Try again."

"I have," he insisted. He sighed irritably. "I don't have time for this." He whirled around, ready to continue his ascent towards the rooftop.

My eyes widened as I realized that he was serious. "Wait!" Sherlock stopped. "You're—you're sure you found him?"

"You didn't think that I was going to forget, did you?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure. Given everything that's gone on, sometimes I forgot what I originally came here for." I swallowed. "But I should know better than to think you forgot about it, a promise is a promise. Who is he? Wait! First, tell me how you found him."

Sherlock sighed. "It wasn't hard, I didn't have to do a lot of digging."

I kept my eyes on him, pressing him to give me more. "Well? Who is he?" I pressed eagerly.

"He's actually been closer than either you and I imagined."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Really? You mean...he's in London? Did you see him?"

"I have. In fact, I'm sure he's your father. You both possess similar traits. You have an unnatural tendency to become extremely loyal to people you barely know."

"Sherlock, that doesn't necessarily match me up with my dad," I retorted.

"Do you want to know him or not?" His tone was clipped.

I bit my lip. "Sorry. Continue."

"You both are haunted by your past. You get the same look in your eyes when certain things bother you. You sometimes look alike when you make the same faces. But your eyes aren't his, they're your mother's. Oh, and how could I forget the injury you both share?"

My head tilted to the side. "You mean to tell me that my dad has a scar similar to mine?" I asked slowly. "Okay, that is a little farfetched."

"No, it isn't, not when I know it's true. Not when I guessed it of him the first time I met him. Of course, your injuries being on the same shoulder must be purely coincidence."

I groaned. "Just tell me who he is. As much as I'd love to hear your fascinating explanation, I want to know by the time the sun sets today."

Sherlock blew breath out of his nostrils. "You did ask."

"Yeah, I know, I know."

"I don't understand how even you didn't make the connection."

"We all aren't smart sociopaths, Sherlock."

"It's John."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then his words sunk in. It's John. He had said it so out of the blue. I clamped my mouth shut, feeling it be sewed together by shock.

John Watson, my father? John Watson, Sherlock's crime solving partner and blogger?

"You're..." I swallowed. "You're lying." Carefully, I stepped backwards until I landed on a flat floor. "That's not possible."

"But it is." Sherlock descended down to confront me.

My heart was beating in tune with my rapid breathing. "No, it isn't."

"Why would I go to all this trouble to tell you something that isn't true?" he asked me sternly.

"Because you're Sherlock Holmes! People listen to anything you say and automatically think it's true, even if they don't know that it's not because they know that you know what you're talking about!" My voice rose.

"I know what's true and what isn't, Rachel. And I know this: John Watson is your father."

I could only blink at Sherlock, who watched me. I shook my head fervently, not wanting to believe him. The claim was shocking enough. Who Sherlock claimed my father was, was even more shocking.

Tremors began to rock my body. I watched Sherlock wearily as he came closer to me. Other than yesterday's confrontation at Kitty Riley's place, this had been the closest we'd ever been to each other. I thought I saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes, and also a flash of...what? Pity? Desperation?

With a man like Sherlock Holmes, it was hard to tell.

Our eyes met, blue-gray meeting green. I cringed but didn't pull away as surprisingly warm hands held my face. This was starting to freak me out.

"I know you won't believe it," he said. "But you wanted to know."

I was tempted to pinch myself and see if this was some sort of dream, but the fact that Sherlock had my face in his hands was distracting. I wasn't sure where this was going.

His eyes dipped down to the floor momentarily before bringing themselves back up to mine. My brows came together. Was there...regret in the consulting detective's eyes?

"Forgive me," he whispered.

Now, I know what you all thought. You're expecting him—Sherlock Holmes—to kiss me or hold me in some embrace. You're expecting me to describe how awesome it was, and how we started kissing or how he confessed his love to me, something sappy like that. Hell, he even had me convinced something romance-novel-like was going to happen.

Instead, Sherlock rammed his forehead into mine harshly. The last thing I felt before I went under was my body meeting the cold floor. 

**Now, the big question: do you believe Sherlock? Is John Watson Rachel's biological father?

And, sorry, dears, no Rachlock. I couldn't bring myself to have those two kiss. There's a decent age difference between the two, and their chemistry is nowhere near romantic.

But I'll bet I had you fooled for a second ;)**