Shadows of the Past (BBC Sherlock) -1-

15. Falling Into Place

I rested my head against the cool glass of the window. I wondered how far ahead Sherlock got in his taxi; we seemed to be going quite a ways. The ride was silent minus the purr of the taxi's engine going.

I held my phone in my hand. Amanda had to know everything: about the kidnapped children and about Moriarty's visit.

"I think I'll be middle-aged by the time Sherlock helps me find my dad," I muttered, throwing a weary look at John. "Maybe he was right. I could have found out by now."

"Why are you so insistent on finding him?"

"I've never known him." I shrugged. "I'm adopted. My mom died when I was three, but I was with my new family long before that. Ever since then, I've wanted to find him. But recently, I've really wanted to. As a kid, I wasn't that focused on it. I just hope he's not dead like my mom, or in jail."

"I'm sure you'll find him, whoever helps you in the end," John encouraged me.

I grinned. "I know this could be a bit personal, but has Sherlock ever...you know...dated?"

John scoffed. "I can't believe you just asked that. The answer is way too obvious, Rachel."

"Did he ever have anyone he had even a little crush on?"

John pursed his lips, deep in thought. "There was this one woman..." I pulled my head off the glass. "She was the closest thing Sherlock had to a crush."

"Tell me more."

"Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"To pass the time." I shrugged. "Who knows how long we'll have to wait until we catch up to him?"

"You're not...infatuated with him, are you?"

I blinked hugely. "Is that why you think I'm asking?" I chuckled. "Oh, John, it's like you've forgotten who I had stupidly fallen for. The last thing on my mind is dating, and the last person I would ever think of having a future with is Sherlock Holmes."

"I just want to make sure. You could be turning into one of his many fan girls he has worldwide."

I snorted a laugh. "If you want to see fan girls, you can meet Kendal and Madison. Well, Kendal is more of the fan girl." I shook my head, remembering my Sherlock-obsessed friend. She was in no way obsessed like Moriarty was; hers was more of an I-will-stalk-you-and-make-you-mine kind of obsession, not the I-want-to-kill-you kind. "Besides," I continued, "I think a lot of delusional girls out there would change their minds if they spent some time with him and got to see how he really is." My finger absently rubbed my phone.

"Expecting a call?"

"No." In fact, I shut my phone off. If Moriarty ever had intentions of calling again, it would go straight to voicemail. The thought of what he could possibly leave as a message made me uneasy.

"Is that your cab up there?" the woman asked us.

I peeked through the windshield to see it speeding off. It looked like Sherlock was out—he was on the sidewalk—but that was about all I could manage.

"Pull over here," John told her. There was something in his voice that made me worried.

John rushed out, helping me out quickly. As our taxi pulled away, I could see Sherlock more clearly now. There was a body lying near him.

"Sherlock!" John called, running ahead of me. I sprinted after him.

"You don't think he did that, do you?"