"DNA test results came back. They're an almost near match to her husband, Marcus Maybourne, but we have proof that he was in Cambridge all last week and into this week. He wasn't present for the murder and he was the one who reported her missing," Lestrade explained to Sherlock and he hummed.

"So if it wasn't her husband, maybe a relative," John said and Sherlock nodded.

The three of them went to go see Marcus who was still being questioned.

Sherlock entered the room and sat down.

"Marcus, these men are gonna ask you some questions. Just answer them honestly and Sherlock, be respectful," Lestrade instructed with a stern glare towards Sherlock.

Marcus nodded and looked at John and Sherlock.

"We need to know exactly what you came home to when you found out your wife was missing," Sherlock started as he tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Well I had gone out to Cambridge to visit a friend of mine from uni, and when I came home, Jenna wasn't home. I thought that maybe she had gone to the store or to run some errands. I had gotten home a day early so I wanted to surprise her. I waited at home all night and she didn't come home. I'll be honest I was afraid that maybe she was seeing someone else. But I started calling her repeatedly and she just wasn't picking up or answering my texts. That's when I called the police," Marcus explained as a few stray tears ran down his cheeks.

"And is there anyone that you know that would have it out for Jenna?" Sherlock asked.

"No one that I can think of. She got on with nearly everyone. She was like a ray of sunshine in any dark room. She was beautiful and incredibly smart. I can't see anyone wanting to take her away," Marcus said and Sherlock pressed his lips together tightly, holding his breath.

"Yes. Yes. Now, do you have any family in London?" Sherlock questioned.

"Just my sister, Daisy. Our parents died when I was a baby," Marcus answered.

"I would like to question her too."

"I can give you her address. She should be home," Marcus replied and Sherlock nodded.

"Good."

🔎

Sherlock and John showed up to Daisy's residence before Lestrade got there so Sherlock knocked on the door.

The door opened after a moment and they were met with a tall ginger haired woman who looked like a female version of Marcus with just a few facial differences.

"Hello, Daisy Maybourne?" Sherlock assumed and she nodded.

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?" She asked curiously as she smiled.

"We're here becuase we need to ask you a few questions about the suspected kidnapping of Jenna Maybourne," Sherlock said and he watched her stiffen.

"I heard about that. My brother texted me this morning, saying that she had gone missing and that he was gonna call the police," Daisy said as she let them step inside. "I'm not sure I can help you. I haven't seen Jenna in a while."

"That's funny, because witnesses and camera footage put you on their street on Tuesday. Or was it Wedsnday?" Sherlock lied and John saw her eyes widen slightly on Wednesday.

"It was Wednesday, Sherlock," John spoke and the detective nodded.

"Right, Wednesday," Sherlock confirmed as he gave Daisy a hard look.

"I was running errands, Wednesday," Daisy tried to cover as her hands began to shake. "I wasn't anywhere near their house when she was killed."

"Killed?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow and she froze, her mouth hung open as tried to find something to say to save herself. "You wanted her out of your brother's life, didn't you? So you found a way to get rid of her."

"Marcus deserved better than that gold digging wench! She was taking him away from me and I won't stand for that!" Daisy shouted as she slammed her hands on the table.

Neither man flinched as they stared at her.

"Regardless, murder is still murder. Do you think that your brother is gonna want you in his life after you murdered the woman he loves?" John questioned as he walked towards her.

"He'll hate me. Oh God, what have I done?" Daisy trembled as she fell to her knees.

There was a knock on the door and Sherlock opened it.

"We got her. Make the arrest, Inspector," Sherlock said as he looked back at John. "We have to let Moriarty know we solved it, and get Phoebe back safely."

🔎

"We got the location. She's in an abandoned apartment complex," Sherlock said and he immediately left, getting a cab as fast as possible.

John slipped in beside him and Sherlock told the cabbie where to go.

Lestrade followed them as well in a police car, all of them praying that Phoebe was still okay.

Running into the building, Sherlock eventually found the room and he nearly cried when he saw her curled up in the corner of the room.

He scooped her into his arms, clutching her close to him.

"Sherlock!" She cried as she clung to him as if her life depended on it.

"I've got you. Your safe," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

John ran in when he saw them in the room. "Phoebe! Are you alright?"

She didn't respond, tears streaming fron her eyes which soaked through Sherlock's shirt which she had her face buried in.

"She's shaking. Come on, we need to get her out of here," John said as he rubbed her back gently.

Sherlock nodded and slipped his arm under her legs as he stood up, carrying her out of the room.

Lestrade jogged over to them and panted slightly. "There's no signs of Moriarty anywhere in here."

"Alright. Let's just get her home," Sherlock said as he looked down at Phoebe, cradling her close to his chest.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Lestrade asked.

"I hope so. Until we know what he did to her, and how much she was affected by this experience, we can't be sure," John said as he walked beside Sherlock.

"Well, keep me updated on her condition. If you need anything, you have my number," Lestrade said as they exited the building.

They split ways and Sherlock refused to let go of Phoebe during the cab ride home.

John watched Sherlock, but his face remained straight the entire ride home.

Sherlock remembered the last time he had spoken to Moriarty... what he had said...

"I will burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one," Sherlock countered.

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

🔎

Phoebe had only spoken Sherlock's name once from the time they found her and the time they got home. She refused to speak for a while as she stayed curled up on her couch.

Sherlock, John, and Mrs Hudson took turns watching over her that night.

While Mrs Hudson was watching over Phoebe, Sherlock sat in his chair across from John who was sat in his own chair as well.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?"

"I'm fine. Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? Are you fine?" Sherlock spurted quickly as he looked up at John.

He raised an eyebrow and Sherlock sighed.

"I am fine. I'm just fine. Phoebe is going to be okay. There's nothing for me to worry about anymore," Sherlock spoke slowly.

"You're allowed to be worried about her, you know?"

"I know. But what good is worrying going to do? She's back and she's safe. Everything is fine," Sherlock said as he put his head in his hands.

"Sherlock, I-" John started before the door opened.

"Sherlock?"

The curly haired detective looked up to see his brother.

"Is she with you?" Mycroft asked sternly.

"No, she's downstairs with Mrs Hudson at the moment," Sherlock replied as he sat back in his chair.

"How is she?"

"She's physically alright, but she won't speak to us. She refused to let go of Sherlock for the first hour we were home," John answered as he looked at the elder Holmes brother.

"I'm going to check on her," Mycroft said before turning to go back downstairs.

He carefully walked into 221C and saw Mrs Hudson holding Phoebe who was staring at her wall.

"Phoebe?" Mycroft spoke and Mrs Hudson looked at him. "Leave us for a moment."

Martha nodded before standing up, letting Phoebe go.

Mycroft sat down in the sofa and Phoebe stayed curled up in the corner against the cushions.

"Phoebe, can you talk to me?" Mycroft spoke calmly as he put a hand on her back gently.

She just looked at him, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

"Come here," he said slowly as he pulled her into his side.

She laid against his side as he put his arm around her.

They sat in silence as tears began to pool in Phoebe's eyes. She started to cry, burying her face in Mycroft's side.

He stiffened and looked down at her, rubbing her back gently to soothe her a bit. "Calm down. You're safe here. I know you're scared, but nothing bad is going to happen to you."

She nodded slowly and closed her eyes.

After a little bit, Sherlock came into the room.

"Oh, you're still here," he mumbled as he saw his brother. "Has she said anything."

"Not a word, but I got her to fall asleep. I need to go," Mycroft said as he carefully stood up, letting Phoebe lay against the back of the sofa.

"Why do you care?" Sherlock asked suddenly as Mycroft grabbed the doorknob.

"What?"

"Why do you care about her? You've never cared about anyone, yet here you are, worried about Phoebe. You've always cared about her," Sherlock said.

"I could ask you the same thing," Mycroft shot back.

"She's my friend. I'm supposed to care. But why do you?" Sherlock replied sharply.

Mycroft sighed and looked down. "She's like a sister to me. Goodnight, Sherlock."

With that, Mycroft walked out of the flat.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow before he just turned back to face Phoebe.

He sat down on the opposite side of sofa, not wanting to disturb Phoebe.

He pulled out his phone and started going through some emails when Phoebe jolted awake with a cry.

Sherlock quickly thre his phone down and looked at Phoebe. He wanted to hig her, but he didn't want to freak her out. "Hey, hey, you're okay. You're safe with me. I promise."

Phoebe looked at him and breathed deeply as she tried to calm herself down. She kept her eyes on Sherlock as he I strutted her to breath evenly.

"You're doing good. Just breath with me. In... and out. In... and out," Sherlock instructed gently. "Good. Are you okay now?"

Phoebe nodded and Sherlock smiled a little, letting her curl up against him.

He held her close to him and sighed, running his hand down her hair slowly.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Sherlock mumbled and she looked up at him.

"I don't want you to die," Phoebe murmured.

"What?" Sherlock questioned, but she closed her eyes and just focused on her breathing.

Sherlock just set it in the back of his mind for a later date, letting her fall back asleep on him. It was the first thing she had said since they got home. He was glad that she seemed to be starting to calm down a bit.

He looked up when he heard a creak in the floorboards, only to see John watching.

"Am I doing good? Is this what I'm supposed to do?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Yes, now, can you take her to bed? She needs proper rest," John said in a hushed tone.

Sherlock nodded before carefully picking Phoebe up, not wanting to wake her as he took her into her bedroom.

He lied her down and tucked her in. He was about to leave her flat, but he looked back and groaned slightly. Something told him that he should stay, so he went upstairs to grab a blanket before going back into her flat, resting on the sofa where he eventually drifted off to sleep.

🔎

A scream made Sherlock jolt awake. He ran into Phoebe's room, flipping on the lights to see her gripping at her blankets as she looked around frantically.

"Phoebe? Are you alright?" Sherlock asked gently as he walked closer to the bed.

"It was so dark and I... I don't want to be alone..." Phoebe mumbled as she clutched her duvet tight around her. "Can you stay with me? I don't want to be by myself... I don't want him to come back..."

"He's not gonna come back, Phoebe. You're being ridiculous," Sherlock replied and she frowned, looking down as tears filled her eyes.

"Right... I'm just... overreacting. I'm sorry," Phoebe whispered as she snuggled back down in her bed, facing away from him.

Sherlock turned on the small lamp she had on her bedside table before turning off the other lights in her room. He then left and laid back down on her couch.

He closed his eyes, trying to get himself to fall back asleep.

After a while, Sherlock felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, but then he heard quiet sobs coming from Phoebe's room.

He willed himself to sit up with a groan before making his way back to her room and opened the door. He saw her trembling under the covers as soft sobs left her lips.

He sighed and slipped under her covers, making her cry out as she scrambled away from him. "Hey, it's just me. I heard you crying."

Phoebe looked at him and then turned away. "I'm sorry. I'll be quiet."

"No, you're upset. You're allowed to cry. But you should be getting sleep," Sherlock replied as he laid on his side, looking at the back of her head.

"I just... okay..." Phoebe wiped her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

After a while, Sherlock realized she was trembling in her sleep so he tried rubbing her arm gently, trying to calm her slumber.

He couldn't understand why she was still so worked up. She was home and safe. Wasn't that enough?