Falling Stars and Cigarettes

Daddy Issues

    Sherlock was worried. Three days. It had been three days since Sibley stormed out of the house and she wasn't answering her phone. He couldn't really blame her, he had been terrible. He just didn't know how to deal with all of his new found emotions and seeing as this was the reason Sibley was in the state that she was in, he was trying to get rid of them. In the process he had just pushed everyone away. John was royally pissed at him, it seemed, and was staying at another girlfriends house. Mrs. Hudson would just shake her head and walk in the other direction when she saw him. Molly refused to speak to him or allow him in the morgue. Lestrade was the only one that talked to him and even then it was minimal, only when he needed assistance on a case. He supposed he deserved it. Sibley looked so hurt when she had left. He was so incredibly stupid. Of course shouting at her and insulting her wouldn't solve any of his problems, they just made everything worse.

Sherlock stood from the sofa, unable to sit still any longer, and pulled on his belstaff, before rushing out the door. He didn't get very far before a big black car pulled up beside him. He rolled his eyes and huffed, annoyed, as the window rolled down.

"Get in, brother mine, we have things to discuss," he said.

"What is it, Mycroft?" he asked, in too bad of a mood to deal with his brother.

"It's about your daughter, I'm afraid she's gone to an unlikely source for comfort," he said. Sherlock felt his heart stop for a moment before climbing in.

"Who is it, Mycroft, who has she gone too?"

"Moriarty."

~~~

Sherlock and John both stood in Mycroft's office, staring at the screen. Moriarty was clearly baiting Sherlock seeing as if he didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't be. Yet there he was, standing next to both Amber and Sibley outside of some large business building. His daughter was clearly happy to be there, laughing with Amber while Moriarty stood next to them, smirking. He frowned. He knew that Sibley knew who he was. At one point he had shown her pictures and told her if she ever saw him, to run. Still, there she was, in the company of his worst enemy. It made since, too. That Moriarty would use her to get to him. His mind went back to standing by that pool, a gun in his hands.

"I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"But we both know that's not quite true."

He was right. Back then it might have been John and Mrs. Hudson and maybe even Lestrade and Mycroft, but now... Moriarty had found his heart, he stood next to it in the photo. Right there with Sibley. She was his heart and there she was, right in the grasp of one of the most dangerous men on the planet.

"I don't understand, Sibley wouldn't work with him. Ever." John insisted, pulling the detective out of his thoughts.

"Clearly she has. I wouldn't estimate the power of 'daddy issues', John. She was looking for acceptance and i'm sure Moriarty was the first one to offer it besides his daughter, Amber." he explained.

"I can't believe this. Amber always seemed like a good person. She and Sibley were very close." John claimed.

"I don't doubt that. It is possible that she didn't even know her father was using her." Mycroft said.

"That sounds exactly like something he would do," Sherlock snarled.

"Mmm, yes, I wouldn't mark Moriarty as father of the year. What do you plan on doing, brother?" Mycroft asked. Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't just go to her. She wouldn't come with him. He couldn't kidnap her, there were way too many things that could go wrong, Moriarty's security, Moriarty himself, her reaction in the end. No, that could lose her to him forever, she had to understand what she was doing by teaming up with the serial killer. She had to already know, though. Sibley may have not been a genius but, despite what Sherlock says, she wasn't an idiot. No, if she was actually choosing him, there had to be a really good reason, one that Sherlock probably wouldn't be able to talk her out of. She was stubborn, just like him. He didn't know what to do. Of course, he would never admit that, especially not to his brother.

"What, the great Mycroft Holmes doesn't already have a plan?" he sassed. Mycroft smirked. He knew Sherlock had no idea what to do. No course of action.

"You're going to have to use your newfound sentimentality for this one, brother dear. The only person who can truly fix this, is you." Mycroft replied.

"I don't know how," Sherlock spat through his teeth. He really, really, hated admitting defeat.

"You need to figure it out. I can't deal with this one for you," Mycroft said. If John didn't know better, he would have said Mycroft almost sounded... regretful. Sherlock just growled and turned, storming out of the office, his partner and flatmate hot on his heels.

When they arrived back to 221B John wasted no time before turning on Sherlock. He was angry. Sibley was clearly a sensitive young girl. Between her mother and taking care of herself and now dealing with her arrogant arse hole of a father, she had to have some issues. She had been neglected from a young age. She needed care and love. John had tried to tell Sherlock this on many occasions, but the stubborn sod never listened and now they were in a mess. A mess that could end up in the death of a young, teenage, girl. He was fuming.

"I told you! I said it over and over, Sherlock! You should have been kind to her! Why in the world would you even say those things to her. It's no secret you're a brutally honest jerk, but the way you treated Sibley was too far. The things you said to her. The way you treated her. Now look what's happened! She could end up dead and it'll be all your fault! Why? What possessed you to act like that?!" John shouted.

"I was scared!" Sherlock shouted back on instinct. It took John aback. Scared? Sherlock Holmes just admitted to fear. Well, that was new.

"What do you mean, scared? What on earth does that have to do with anything?" he was still cold, but he wasn't nearly as loud this time.

"I got close to her, John, attached. It took us weeks to find her because my brain wasn't clear. She was kidnapped because of me, John." he said.

"So you thought you should insult and bully her and it would fix things?" his voice was now gentle, yet, still, stern.

"I don't know! I just... I needed for both of us to not be so close to each other." he sighed. John glared at him and shook his head.

"Sherlock Holmes, you're a bloody idiot." he said. With that, he turned around and walked out the door, leaving Sherlock to mope by himself, trying to figure out what to with his daughter.

He sighed as he paced the floor before finally pulling out his phone. She may not be answering his texts or calls, but she would still see them. He found his mind came up blank as he stared down at the small screen. What could he possibly say? John was right, he had messed up, big time. Now here he was trying to make it right but he wasn't sure he could. After typing and erasing and typing again over and over he finally gave up. Tossing his phone on the couch before falling next to it and running his hands down his face.

The flat was silent. Empty. It only made his thoughts louder as they rattled around in his brain. When his phone began to ring, he was relieved and, in hopes it might be Sibley, he scrambled to pick it up, only to find that it was Molly. He huffed and fell back onto the couch with the intention to ignore it when he realized he needed her. He picked it up and answered.

"Sibley's not answering her phone, is she alright? What have you done?" the woman asked.

"Molly... She's left... I need your help."