Chapter Text
Rosie Watson was five years old the first time anyone attempted to kidnap her. Fortunately, her godfather, being the high-functioning detective that he was, never short of adversaries seeking to hurt him through the ones he held dearest, had taught the little girl personally on what to do in just that type of situation.
Molly had been babysitting her that day. They had gone to the cafe for a treat on their way home and the woman had taken her eye off of the little girl to pay for their cakes for only a moment. The next time she turned around, the little girl had vanished. Terror pumping through her, Molly's eyes swept the cafe, searching for the familiar little head. She didn't see her. With their tea and cakes forgotten on the counter, she moved through the little shop, heart in her throat as she searched for her goddaughter.
The woman heard the girl far before she found her.
"HELP! HELP! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED! THIS MAN IS NOT MY DAD! HE IS NOT MY DAD! 221B BAKER STREET! MY DAD IS THERE! GET MY DAD!"
The scream was deafening and when Molly turned a corner, she saw the child struggling against two large men while they attempted to shove her into a car. The little girl herself was making it impossible though as she had bent her body down and gripped the man's leg that held her, latching on tight to inhibit his ability to walk any further. She was also kicking her legs out as hard and as furiously possible for a child her size making any attempt to gain hold of the girl utterly impossible.
In an instant Molly saw red. She forgot everything she knew personally about self-defense and charged aimlessly at the two, blind with rage as she collided with the one holding the girl and punched him as hard she could.
"LET HER GO!"
It didn't take any time at all for the commotion to attract the attention of numerous people from every direction. In the blink of an eye, a dozen or so people swarmed the two men that had been hired to abduct the little girl, and like that, they were soon realizing that the amount they had been paid had been nowhere near enough for the trouble they were in now. Molly managed to grab Rosie by the waist and lift her up, holding her close as she dived out of reach from the two kidnappers. To their credit they didn't attempt to retrieve the girl and were at least smart enough to realize a losing battle right as the crowd was about to rip them apart. By the skin of their teeth, they managed to dodge quickly into their car, speeding off without their target.
Sherlock and John arrived just as Lestrade was questioning Molly. John wasted no time in rushing up and embracing Rosie instantly, asking her repeatedly if she was okay, before doing the same for her godmother. As Sherlock studied the scene, he couldn't help but notice the clear look of terror in the woman's eyes and the blanket thrown over his goddaughter's shoulders, meant to help with shock. From the looks of it though, it seemed like Molly needed one of her own a lot more.
"Now, Molly, what happened here exactly?" Lestrade began. Sherlock resisted the impulse to roll his eyes as he scanned the area, instinctively looking for clues while he listened at the same time.
"It all happened so quickly," she explained, still shaking from the ordeal. "I was paying for our cakes and when I turned back Rosie was gone. I was looking for her in the shop when I heard her scream and I saw two men trying to get her into a car."
"Can you tell us what they looked like?"
Molly wracked her brain. "It's all a blur. I just saw red and the only thing I could think at that moment was "Please God, don't let them take her." And then I ran at them and began hitting the one that had hold of her as hard as I possibly could. I think I gave him a black eye. I hope so at least."
"Are you sure you can't remember anything more than that?" Lestrade urged gently.
Molly wracked her brain, irritated by her own short memory and wished more than ever before that it had been Sherlock in her place instead of her. He'd probably know exactly who they both were with a single look. "Um... I'm pretty sure they were both white. Both wearing black coats and dressed casually."
She wanted to roll her own eyes by that miniscule description. Real good, Molly. That narrows them down in London.
Try as she might though, there was nothing else about the two men she could recall. She felt Sherlock's eyes on her with those words and could knew he was disappointed. She shrunk in her spot, feeling useless. "I'm sorry. It was all... so fast."
Lestrade turned his attention to the little girl. "How 'bout you, Rosie? Do you remember anything about them?"
"I was mostly trying to make sure they couldn't take me," the girl explained, looking between the grownups. "That's what papa taught me to do first." She looked towards Sherlock with that declaration, beaming proudly. "I grabbed his leg and started shouting what you told me to say."
"That's very good, Rosie," Sherlock declared, looking her way with an encouraging smile. "You did everything exactly right. Are you sure you can't remember anything more?"
"I didn't see either of their faces, but when he was taking me and when I bent down to grab his leg, I did see his pants and shoes."
Intrigued, Sherlock stepped forward, lowering to her level to look her in the eye. Perhaps his instruction with his goddaughter was about to come in handy. "What did you notice, Rosie?"
"His pants had stripes and they were wrinkled. There was also red mud all up and down his shoes."
"Red mud?" He repeated, feeling excited. That was more like it!
She nodded.
He examined the area where the would-be-abductor's car had been parked and whipped out his magnifying glass. There! Red mud! Just as Rosie said. He instantly produced a cotton swab and collected a bit of it for testing later. Now he had a lead.
"It's too bad nobody got a good look at either of them," Lestrade lamented, disappointed yet again that that part of the street had no cameras. "It might have given us a lead."
Rosie, calm as ever despite nearly ending up on a milk carton, held up her hands which had been hidden prior by the blanket but were now revealed to be spotted with blood.
"Will this help? Papa told me that pieces of people can give the police clues. I scratched them bad to get some blood. That's a piece of them, right?"
Everyone stared at the little girl. Sherlock even paused his examination of the crime scene to look back towards her, meeting Rosie's gaze with a delighted expression. A feeling of intense pride swept through the man, and he stepped forward to press a kiss on top of her forehead, indicating a job well done. John couldn't help but lean forward, embracing her for the millionth time that evening. Even Molly looked somewhat relieved by the girl's quick thinking.
"Good job. That was real smart of you, Rosie."
"It was?"
"With the blood you collected we can run his DNA and see if he shows up in the system," Sherlock explained, momentarily forgetting that he was talking to a little girl.
Rosie took his words with stride though, and if she didn't understand what he meant, no one could tell. "Oh. Well, that's good then."
By the time the blood had been collected and documented carefully by forensics, John was more than eager to get Rosie home as soon as possible. As a parent, this had been probably the scariest moment of his life and he was desperate to make sure his daughter was back home where they were safe. Lestrade was kind enough to offer the group an escort and John wasted no time in accepting it. All during the ride, the father refused to release her hand until they were all behind the door of their flat.
"Dad, you can let me go now," Rosie said, indicating their locked hands and tugging a bit to try and find release.
"Right. Sorry."
Once freed, Rosie skipped away, seemingly unaffected by the whole ordeal. "Can we have mac and cheese tonight?"
John was in a bit of a daze and completely missed her words. Sherlock studied his expression and instantly saw he was in the darker part of his mind as the look of fear about what could have happened was practically pasted on his face. So, he answered in John's place. "Yes, Rosie. I'll handle it tonight."
"Goodie." And like that, Rosie left to play in her bedroom. Once she was out of earshot, Sherlock turned to his partner.
"John? Are you going to be alright?"
The words shook him out of his thoughts and his gaze snapped up at the taller man. "I don't know. My child was almost kidnapped today."
"Yes, but she wasn't," Sherlock consoled. "She was smart, and she did exactly what we taught her to do in a situation like that."
"Yeah, but I honestly thought she wouldn't need to ever actually use all that," John admitted.
"In our line of work and the adversaries we attract, it was necessary to teach her those things. Some would argue that it's necessary for all children to know such defense in this day and age. And Rosie performed better than anyone could have anticipated. Her reaction was instantaneous, and she was even able to supply us with a lead and trace of the ones who tried to abduct her. She's a child, but she was perfect."
John looked at his friend, comforted slightly by his words.
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm being selfish by putting her through all of this. Is it fair to subject her to this life? How can I do this detective work if it puts her at risk?"
Sherlock winced by those words. For all the truth that they carried, he couldn't bring himself to encourage that train of thought. It was selfish, but he knew if John left with Rosie, or even chose to send Rosie away for her safety, their relationship would never be like it was, it wouldn't survive.
Sherlock pressed a hand to John's shoulder, looking him in the eye as he spoke. "John, remember my vow? I promised to always protect you and Rosie. I wasn't with her, but Rosie was protected by the knowledge I gave to her. She knew exactly what to do because I--because we--both taught her what to do. She can't get that knowledge if she's sent away, even if you think it's for her own good."
Behind John's gaze there was still doubt and fear, but it seemed like Sherlock's words had eased him slightly and the man nodded, seeing where his point was.
"I know. I'm just worried and a bit shaken up by what happened I guess. Whoever targeted her is still out there and they may try again."
"If they do, they'll need a new strategy. Rosie was much more difficult to subdue than they anticipated."
"Not quite like abducting me I guess." It was meant as a friendly jab, but Sherlock still didn't like being reminded of the other times John had been put in harm's way due to the detective's lifestyle. He chose not to say anything about it and concentrated on the evidence they had acquired at the scene. He moved towards his laptop, ready for some researching while John got busy with dinner, despite Sherlock's prior offer to do it himself.
"Oh, uh... right. I can handle dinner if you want to be with Rosie," Sherlock said, halfheartedly.
"No thank you," John retorted from the kitchen. "Nice of you to offer, but after beans and ramen night, I'm not taking that chance again."
Sherlock felt an impulse to argue but the call of the case was more than he could resist, and the game was now on!