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.


4. Chapter - S

Right so children. Children. Children. Children.


Chess I can… Where’s the chess board?

Why has John tidied up?

“Can you play Chess?”

No response. What is this child?

Why would it be under the sink Sherlock? Damn it can’t think straight. Stop staring.

The case think about the case…

2 bodies, apparently one killed the other before killing them self, according to that inspector it was open and shut. Why call me in? True the angle of the gunshot wound on each body would imply the story was true, so why was the gun in the hand of the one shot first?

Stop staring.

It was the murder weapon. Someone came in after the murder and suicide, that would explain the why the window was broken outwards.

Stop Staring!

It was set up. I was called in so my brother could visit the girl. The window hadn’t been broken by a person, which explains the shatter pattern it was probably smashed with a sack of something. Such a simple case I wouldn’t have been called in… What does Mycroft want with her?



…She looks like her…


Not good. Not good. Looked too long.

“Did you see where John put the… Chess Board?”

When did she move so close?

“Thank you.”

She is still watching me. Where is John when you need an overly sensitive human? Set. Not leaning back in the chair, uncomfortable? That was pain, why is she in pain? Scars on left arm, needle specks, blade lines, whip? Rope? Handcuffs.

“White or black?” She turns the board, black.

Second move, interesting. ‘The Woman’ would move first.

Moving the knight first turn, bold move child. My turn, bishop takes centre of board. Why expose the king? Moving that Pawn that is your downfall. I guarantee it.

“Do you intend to lose?” She doesn’t pay me attention rather stares at the board.

I hate it.

She is oddly intriguing.

Third move reveals all: the Queen, into play so early.

Head cocked to one side, brows pulled together as I push down her King. Her eyes blaze ‘Show me’.

“With pleasure,”

I watch her she narrows her eyes, when I move her Rook to take my Pawn but, she concedes. She has nothing to say and neither do I. What do you say to a child? A girl child? I don’t like her staring. Moments later she holds up her hand flat palmed toward me, I place my Knight back on the board and move her Queen back. Index finger right hand… she moved all three earlier with her left hand, which is dominant?

I didn’t see that. Damn it.

Black Knight takes the last White Knight. Black Queen remains in play.

Her eyes dance around the board, she is analyzing, she pulls her King back into play.

Obnoxious brat. Why can you do this so easily? Why do you look like you do? You should be younger. You’re distracting child. Biting her lip earlier… prevention technique? Was she going to say something? Biting her lip now, chewing on it, what are you thinking girl?

Brown eyes glare, it’s your move.

“Why don’t you just talk? You have a tongue don’t you?”


“Fine, so no conversation. Afraid you’ll give something away?”

Damn it tell me something!

“What’s your name?”

The more I speak the more she gains the high ground, she needs to react, and say something do something. STOP STARING!


“What was she like?”

Emotion. Wide eyes you weren’t anticipating that. Fists clenched. Anger.

“Not even that? You won’t speak of your own mother?”

Lip bitten, jaw tightly closed. Blood. That’s and interesting colour, as translucent as her skin, her blood has been thinned, those needle entry points, drugs. What kind? Opiates. No. Opioids. Doesn’t fit. Heroin, can’t be she should have already been suffering from withdrawal. More than 15 injection points. Steroids, she is too small.

“You have quite a temper child,” She pushed the board with her left hand, she is left handed although plays ambidextrous.

“Anger makes a person weak. Do you have the drugs in your bag?”

Playing dumb, that head on one side frowning expression.

Clothes, Mycroft chose these. Nothing to clean with? Phone charger no phone, perfume?

Smells like poison. Hemlock? Cyanide? Colour implies Arsenic. Why would Mycroft remove a phone but not a knife…?

He intends to have me killed – knew that already – didn’t know he was that serious.

Why is she still pulling that face! Damn her!

“Where are they then? You must have them!”

Eyes narrowed, what are you deducing? Stopped biting lip, fists unclenched. Amused?

Black case, looks like glasses. Someone like her would not have glasses. Hand extended.

“So they’re in here?”

Don’t roll your eyes at me, you can’t do that! That’s only John. Don’t click your tongue like him either. Stop it. DON’T IMPERSONATE JOHN WATSON. Not so… so perfectly.

She reaches for it I move it back, attempt to open.

She pulls on scarf. Suffocating. Grabs bottle hits, she falls down. Retaliation she has the case, makes way to door, picking up bag. Knife, right hand. John is home. Stairs, still recovering from choking tries to call John. Not enough time.

Decision made, hand back the case.

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