The Blog of Eugenia H. Watson, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed

I tried to picture my Dad without Sherlock and I couldn’t do it. I’d never known my Dad without Sherlock. I’d never been without him, either. I knew I was being dramatic, but I couldn’t help but worry that if he never came back, or if he died, that all of it would be just broken into a million pieces. Mum would be okay, she’d deal with it. Dad and me might not be so okay. I think even I would be okay eventually, but Dad? I don’t think so. I think that if you’re in love with a man like Sherlock, you’re done for. There’s just no moving on from that. Who could possibly compare?


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