It had been a month since she had died. It was the most painful month he had ever experienced and the pain wasn’t stopping any time soon. John tried to comfort him, but it was to no avail. Nothing could comfort him. He had gotten her back and lost her within the time span of forty-eight hours. He longed to see her bright smile, to feel the warmth of her hand in his, to see her eyes light up as she watched their baby girl grow up. But he never would. She would miss their daughters first birthday, her sweet sixteen, her first date, her graduation. The funeral had been short, only attended by a few people. Sherlock hadn’t been taking cases since she died. He spent his days at his flat, only leaving to pick up supplies for the baby. He visited her grave every day, sometimes sitting by her grave for hours.
“I can’t do this without you.” He whispered, falling to his knees and sobbing into his hands. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”
“You understand that once you sign these papers, you will never be able to see your daughter again.”
Sherlock nodded slowly, scrawling his name quickly across the dotted line before he could change his mind. It was too much for him to handle. He couldn’t look at his daughter without thinking of her and thinking of her hurt too much. As soon as the woman took the papers from him, his mind wandered to the conversation he had had with John earlier that day.
“John, I’ll be back soon. I have decided to take Katharine to the adoption agency.”
“What? Sherlock, wait.”
Sherlock stopped by the door and turned, the strawberry haired baby asleep in his arms.
“Why?”
“Look at her, John. She has her hair, her nose. Her laugh, for god’s sake.”
“Sherlock, you can’t do this.”
“John, I can and I will. There is nothing you can do to stop me. Now goodbye.”
He was halfway out the door when John called out to him.
“Do you think this is what Elizabeth would want?”
Sherlock stopped. How dare he bring her into this. He moved so he was standing in the door to the flat and turned to John.
“Elizabeth’s dead, John. She’s never coming back.”
John froze, looking at Sherlock with wide, surprised eyes.
“I can’t do this without her. Catherine will be better off with a different family.”
He spun sharply on his heel and sped out the door before John could say another word.
He handed the small girl to the red haired adoption agent on the other side of the desk and stood, wanting to get out of the building as soon as possible.
“Uh, sir?”
He stopped, not turning.
“Do you want this to be a closed or open adoption?”
He spoke without hesitation, without remorse.
“Closed.”
A.N: IF YOU LIKED THIS STORY, CHECK OUT THE SEQUEL "HIGH" AT MY PROFILE.
