John followed quietly behind Sherlock as they got out of the cab. Having finally arrived at their destination. Looking puzzled as they walked around. "Why would he send us here, it's a, oh"... He said in realization as they came across a tombstone which looked to be about a few years old.

"Io Johnson, 1983-2016".... He read quietly. "She's dead."

"Yes." Holmes mumbled. "I deduced that hours ago."

"So you never met her then"..

"No."

"Sherlock, I'm-" The doctor was cut off mid sentence.

"Sorry?" Sherlock stated calmly. "Don't be."

John shook his head, staying quiet again.

The detective gave a sigh as he stuck his hands inside his trentcoat pockets. "Let's go." He said quietly, his black trenchcoat swishing behind him as he turned to do so. 

Watson then gave a nod, following behind. "Do your parents know she's, well you know".. He asked awkwardly a moment later. 

Sherlock gave a shrug in response. "Most likely no, and they probably wouldn't care to obtain that knowledge." 

"They might, don't you think?" 

"They gave her up John, I think they stopped caring then." Holmes retorted. 

"Stopped caring? Sherlock, they gave her up because they did care. I think you at least owe it to them to tell them. And if you don't, I will." His companion said firmly. 

"Then good luck." 

John gave a slight scoff, opening the door as they reached 221B. Going inside and up the worn stairs. The Holmes family was strange, stranger than his. But he was determind to stick next to the detective none the less. 

"Tea?" Mrs. Hudson suddenly asked. 

"Please." He replied, he needed a warm mug or two after this long day...