The great Sherlock Holmes, a father? Who could've predicted that? In all the time I have spent with my bastard of a best friend, I remained unaware of his capacity to pro-create. I'd presumed him inhuman... seemingly, Holmes is not as inhuman as previously thought.
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The story focuses on aspects of the book and TV series (Which lets be honest are fabulous!!) in this timeline, Mary is dead (... for now ;) ) however John's daughter never came into existence.


3. Chapter - J

“Where are you going? Sherlock isn’t here!”

I hear Mrs. Hudson’s protests from downstairs and can only assume that Mycroft is here. I move to the door and prepare myself for Mycroft and the difficult task of getting the child to change clothes. The girl was on alert standing to attention, she moved to the other side of the room so she was in direct access of what I think was the door.


“It’s alright Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft is here to see me.” I felt my face frown as I saw the two men with Mycroft, one at the door and one behind the man himself. “What is happening?” The girl pulled herself up straight at Mycroft’s entrance. He held a blue bag out to her, cautiously she approached and took it, she stepped away and peered inside as I moved into the room her head snapped up to face me, before she returned her attention to the bag. She placed it at Mycroft’s feet and extended her hand to him.

“I am afraid we can’t give you that. Shall we discuss it over tea?” Mycroft gave me a pointed look. He wanted me to leave. I can’t the man who resides beside Mycroft’s side does not appear to be friendly nor does the one at the door.

“Mrs. Hudson, could you make us some tea please?”

“I’m not your housemaid John!” Came the usual reply. After a few moments there was also a slightly annoyed “Alright then…”

Mycroft turned to look at me.

“Why don’t you go and help John?”

“She doesn’t speak…” I said bluntly intending to continue in the child’s defense.

“She also doesn’t need your help.” Mycroft cut me short

The child turned to me and nodded, she kept her extended hand in place. Mycroft moved to rest his hand on the girls she pulled it away and clasped it in her other, moving anti-clockwise to inspect the two men before her. The man who I now realized to be a bodyguard, moved as if to attack the girl she stopped and Mycroft held up his hand. The girl turned to the man who was at least four times her mass and double her height. She narrowed her eyes and a familiar expression danced across her face, Sherlock’s deduction face. Her eyes rapidly drank in all of the man before her freezing occasionally on a prominent or useful feature. She turned her attention back to her uncle, the elder of the Holmes brothers, then continued to move around him. Her deduction face still in place.

It was here that Mrs. Hudson intruded upon the impromptu meeting, she placed the tea down on the table and nodded at me.

“Thank You Mrs. Hudson.” Mycroft said sharply signaling Mrs. Hudson to leave.

She tutted her tongue and gave the girl a warm smile before leaving. The child watched her go the same bewilderment from earlier lingered in her eyes.

“What is it she is after?” I dared to ask.

The girl narrowed her eyes slightly and moved in closer toward Mycroft. The tall man took this to be an attack and pulled her back into a restraint, locking her arms with his. She did not struggle.

“What are you doing? She is a child! For-Christ’s-Sake, let her go…Mycroft!” I found myself to be unexplainably rude and my voice to have risen above what I am usually comfortable with. Mycroft did not give the order to have the girl released. I was unaware of what to do, when out of nowhere the child brought her foot up to connect with the Bodyguards crotch, he restrained himself from buckling over and letting her go but it clearly hurt. She did it again, then jabbed her elbows sharply into his gut and pushing up under his ribcage taking his breath from him, as his grip faltered she wriggled free, hooking feet around his ankles and sliding between his legs. I moved to intervene, when she climbed up to his shoulders and pulled the gun from inside his jacket and pointed it at the Bodyguards throat. Mycroft held up his umbrella, resting its tip on my chest. As the guard moved to free himself from the small girls grip, she brought her knee into his back so that he fell to his knees. From here she stood on either one of his calves and disengaged him of any further weaponry, another two guns, a knife and his ear piece. She then held out her hand.

“Bravo my dear,” Mycroft said bluntly - lowering his umbrella. “I am presuming this is what you are after?”

Mycroft pulled a memory stick from his pocket and extended his arm to the girl so that she might take it. Swiftly she brought her leg up to the side of the guards head and kicked the memory stick out of Mycroft’s hand. She glared at him. There was movement from the guard downstairs at the door, I could hear his footsteps drawing nearer.

“Thank you for the insight into my niece John,” Mycroft said softly. “We’ll leave her in your capable hands.”

He walked past me, turning to stare at the guard he had brought with him. He raised his eyebrows. The guard nodded.

“Get off of him.” The child was clearly shocked by my tone of voice and the anger it held, yet she did not move. “Now!” I shouted. Slowly she did as she was asked, holding the gun by the barrel and offering the handle to the guard, he took it never breaking eye contact with the girl. As he moved to collect his things, she turned to face me, her heels pressed firmly together and her arms by her side. A soldier. I frowned. The guard sheepishly walked past her and past Mycroft to join the other on the stair well.

“All the best John.” Mycroft nodded as he followed the men.

The child remained unmoving watching me, seemingly waiting for her next order. I should have asked Mycroft her name. I sent a quick text:

If you’re going to insist on treating your family members

In such a way, would you be so kind as to tell me her name?


I threw my phone at the chair and the child watched it land.

“You can sit down,” She moved back to her original position, sat on the sofa her legs crossed. “Tea?” I asked. There came no reply. I poured each of us a cup of tea and placed one in front of her, pouring the milk in mine and adding half a teaspoon of sugar. The girl mirrored me exactly. She left her tea cup on the table before her as I drank.

It was here that I realized that the child had nowhere to sleep, we had no extra bedroom and she couldn’t exactly share with me or Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson? No, the girl has already shown her malicious nature, to leave her in the same room as Mrs. Hudson would almost certainly be a death wish… for who I don’t know. I moved to place the cup back onto the coffee table.

“Are you going to drink that or not?” I asked. There was no reply as usual.

Time passed by and the child did not move. I finished tidying up and peered inside the blue bag, there were clothes inside which were clearly not her own, they still had the labels on and were two sizes too big with pastel colours and lace. I looked at the child, with her dark coloured rags and thin fragile body, these clothes were not hers. I decided it would not be my place to meddle if I continued to look thorough her belongings, and placed the bag at her feet. I found myself uncomfortably close to her as I moved away from the chair. I was crouched at the side of the sofa as I placed the bag and on standing up my face leveled with hers; our eyes locked.

Slowly her hand moved toward me, remembering our first encounter and the power she held over the bodyguard. I refrained from flinching away wary that sudden movement could trigger her fight instinct. I kept my gaze steady, focusing on her brown eyes. I became acutely aware that all this time, she had been gaining information about me, I had nothing on her. She rested her index finger beneath my right eye and gently pulled it off of my cheek, holding it before me to inspect. An eyelash.

“John you idiot! It was an EYELASH?” I mentally shouted at myself, sound in the knowledge that if Sherlock were here he would definitely make laugh at the fear that was ‘oh so evident’ from this that and the other’.

A few seconds passed and I still remained crouched before her, eye to eye.

“T-Thank You,” I stumbled on my words.

The child who had attempted to drain the life from my body this morning was now so gentle and caring. I cannot possibly fathom this child. She began to lean away from me, pushing herself deeper into the leather of the sofa: is she afraid? I moved away and returned to my chair picking up the newspaper and my phone. She relaxed slightly. The same pained expression crossed her face before she regained her composure after inhaling and exhaling deeply a few times.

3 messages:

~Case was boring SH

~Can you work tonight? Ta

~I don’t know. Inform me.


I tutted my tongue and rolled my eyes. The girl frowned then copied, a motion which I found rather amusing. Her eyes grew wide when I smiled at her, she didn’t smile back. Sherlock walked through the door in a foul mood, he glared at the child and threw himself into his chair drumming his fingers on the arm. I peered over the top of the paper.

“Evening,” I said.

I received a grunt in reply. I moved to the desk draw and pulled out the take away menus passing one to Sherlock and laying the other before the girl on the coffee table. She looked at it for a moment and then turned those chocolate eyes to me, before staring at her father who flicked the corner of the menu with the nail and print of his middle finger. Slowly, she copied him, on the first snap of the menu, Sherlock’s attention was drawn to his daughter. He scowled at her. She drew her lip back with her teeth; biting down on it with such force it bled.

“Now, now children. Stop biting your lip. And you, choose what you want for dinner, set an example.” I said pointing at each child in turn.

Both pulled a sullen expression but did as they were asked. With the children fed, I quickly sent a reply to Zoe:

~Be with you in 10 J

I pulled on my work clothes and hailed a taxi, Sherlock stormed out after me, pulling on my jacket shoulder.

“You can’t leave me alone with that?” He said turning me to face him.

“She isn’t that bad Sherlock, and beside we need some way to pay the bills. Consulting detective doesn’t bring in anything!” The taxi pulled up alongside me. “I have to go Sherlock, play chess or something? She seems of your level.” I pulled my shoulder free and climbed into the taxi. “See you later, its three hours, not an entire day.”

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