Work Text:
Rosie sat beside her father in the back of the cab. His arm circled her shoulders comfortingly. She turned to look at Sherlock, who was staring out of the window, seemingly at nothing. His face was ashen and…different, and it scared her a little. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. She looked up at her father, and he met her gaze with a melancholy smile.
“You OK, Bumblebee?”
“I feel sad, Poppy.”
“It’s all right to be sad, sweetheart. I’m sad too.”
As they rode in silence, Rosie watched the green of the countryside go by. The breeze through the open window carried with it the smell of summer. Rosie thought about what a beautiful day it was and was glad for Mrs H.
London was often gloomy, and she thought Mrs H. would be happy to have nice weather for her funeral. Rosie hoped she would have such a day for her own funeral, but being only six felt it would be ages before she'd have to worry about it.
She turned again to Sherlock and placed her small hand over his large one, which rested on the seat between them. "England has fallen, hasn’t it, Daddums?"
Sherlock turned, and she saw his tears. “Yes, Rosie. It has, and my heart is broken.”