"You're leaving so soon?" Mrs. Hudson whimpered.

I smiled at her sadly as I sat at her small table in her kitchen. She was bustling around, making me a cup of coffee. "I've been here for months," I told her. "It's time I headed home."

"Well, I wish you and John visited more. Things have been lonely here ever since..."

"I know." My throat tightened at the reminder. My mind drifted to the apartment upstairs, my former home in London. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll try and call you every now and again to check in."

"I'm glad you decided to stop by before you left."

"I'd hate myself if I didn't say goodbye to you." Mrs. Hudson handed me the steaming mug. I blew on it, setting it down on the table. I didn't want to scorch my hands.

"Did you want a spot of breakfast?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't. I ate before I came here," I declined kindly. My pinkie nail scraped the surface of the table. I nudged the bags at my feet on the floor, making sure they hadn't disappeared. I figured I'd take my things with me so I didn't make a trip back to retrieve them.

Besides, my flight was leaving in less than two hours.

"Oh!" Mrs. Hudson squeaked, looking towards her doorway. I peeked around to see John coming. I grinned. "John! What a lovely surprise. I wondered why you hadn't come along with Rachel."

"She left before I could," he answered.

"Ah, so you got my message," I sang. I'd left him a text once I was in the taxi. I'd forgotten to write something down on paper before I left, it'd totally slipped my mind. I was lucky I managed to remember to leave him my whereabouts.

"Yes, and next time leave a proper note."

"I will."

"Do you want something to eat while you're here, John?" Mrs. Hudson pressed.

"Oh, sorry, I'm afraid I can't stay. I've got a cab running."

"Seriously? I can't stay for, like, ten more minutes?" I whined. "I don't want to leave."

"You do if you want to catch the plane. Now come on, I've already got my things in there. If the driver leaves and takes my stuff, you're paying for it all."

"Hold on," Mrs. Hudson interjected. We both looked at her. "Where are you going, John?"

"Oh." I blushed, becoming interested in my coffee. "I'd forgotten how long it's been since we've seen each other, Mrs. Hudson. You've missed quite a bit." Slowly, I rose from the chair.

"Like what?" She put her hands on her hips.

"I found my dad."

"Oh!" She clapped her hands. "I'm so happy for you, dear! Who is he?"

I snickered, flicking a thumb in John's direction. "You're looking at him."

Mrs. Hudson's dark eyes widened. "Stop joking, Rachel."

I pouted. "I'm not. We took a test to confirm it. We're...we're related."

Mrs. Hudson let out a squeak. "How unexpected!"

"Tell us about it," John muttered under his breath. "Come on, Rachel, we really need to leave."

"But I don't understand why you're leaving."

"He's coming with me to America," I said rather proudly. He'd seemed hesitant, but something spurred him to accept my proposal. I knew it would be for the better. "It's just for a little bit, don't worry. I'm flying down for my birthday."

"Oh, that sounds nice." Mrs. Hudson beamed. "You will be back soon, won't you?"

"He will," I emphasized. "I won't be, I'm afraid."

Mrs. Hudson's happiness vanished in less than a second. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "America is my home, Mrs. Hudson."

"Well so is England apparently, since your father is John!" she protested.

I laughed dryly. "It would seem so, wouldn't it? I promise you, I'll call. And maybe...who knows? I might make a trip back to London someday."

"Oh, well, since you're going..." Mrs. Hudson hobbled to me to hug me. I squeezed her back, feeling a hole in my chest. "You both be careful now, alright?" Mrs. Hudson warned us as she hugged John next.

"We won't get into any trouble," I promised her.

With one last wave, John led me out of the 221B door, to the taxi. My eyes never strayed from the gold lettering on the door as we pulled away.

* * *

I could tell something was bothering John. I had a feeling it had something to do with me staying in America. As much as I wanted to spend time with him, I couldn't make another trip to London. I probably wouldn't be able to afford it, and honestly, I wanted to stay in one place for a long time.

We arrived at the noisy airport. John paid the driver, and the taxi sped off as we went inside. We were early for our flight, which was good—we still needed to get through the checkpoints. John and I kept side by side, towing our luggage along. Our things could easily be stowed once we were inside the plane. He and I didn't have much to carry.

By the time we got through the checkpoints and got to our terminal, we still had time left over. Our flight was to board in ten minutes. We sat in the waiting area with a few other people.

"So you're not coming back."

I stole a glance at John, who seemed to be occupied with looking around. His hands were clasped in his lap. I sighed. "This isn't my home. America is."

"So I'll lose you once I come back here."

"We'll still keep in touch. You have my number. We can probably Skype or something." I pushed hair behind my ear.

My eyes snapped to a flash of black. I relaxed when I noticed it was a woman in a black leather coat, not a man in a trench coat. I rubbed my temple. How many times must we go over this? He's dead. How else can I say it? Sherlock Holmes is dead.

"I wouldn't focus on the negatives," I went on carefully. "Think about what's ahead. You'll get to experience a taste of my home. Who knows? You may even find someone there." I nudged him playfully, trying to get a smile or even a chuckle out of him. I huffed when I was unsuccessful. "All I'm saying is make the most of the trip. For me?" I put a hand on his arm.

John stared at me. I tried to give him an encouraging smile.

"How long is the flight going to take?" he asked.

"Hours. Why?" My eyebrows scrunched together.

"Let's do a little getting-to-know-you thing."

"You mean like an interview?"

"Something like that, yeah. We'll have lots of time."

I brightened, realizing John was deciding to look on the positives of this trip. I was glad he was looking at the good aspects of life, not the bad. America will definitely take his mind off of Sherlock. Hmm, I might have to keep Kendal and Madison away from him. I blanched, realizing that all who would be celebrating my birthday would be in for a real shock. Well, everyone minus Amanda, who already knew about John Watson being my father. I would definitely have to make them promise to not tell anyone and especially to not ask John about Sherlock.

If my friends had any sensitivity, they wouldn't say a peep.

Rachel Avril Watson, I thought. Hmm, doesn't have a bad ring to it.

Once the announcement was made that we were now boarding, passengers flocked to the gates. We all filed in once checking in. John and I found our seats quickly, stowing our bags in the compartments on the sides of the plane above our heads. We got settled in as other passengers began to find their seats.

I drummed my fingers on the armrest; I looked out of the window. My heart beat anxiously in my chest. I did a breathing exercise to help calm me. I'm coming home.

I really did have two homes: one in America and one in England. Huh, not many people could say that.

"You aren't secretly sending me to a therapy session in America, are you?" John whispered. "Tell me if you are now so I can get out if it's possible."

I sniggered, looking back at my dad. "I'm not tricking you, I swear. I'm going home, and you're coming with me. No therapy, no intervention."

My heart picked up speed as the plane started moving. The feeling of being shoved back into my seat overwhelmed me. I looked out the window one last time.

Goodbye London, hello Maryland. This was going to be good for John and me, I could just feel it.

Our lives had a silver lining after all.