PROLOGUE

People, John had decided a long time ago, were like puzzles, all the pieces coming together to create that person. Sherlock had an extraordinary gift for seeing more pieces than most people could at a glance, but John, having spent so much time with his friend, assumed that he had picked up on those gifts, even after moving out and marrying Mary. He figured he had the puzzle that was Sherlock Holmes figured out: highly-functioning sociopath, cold, stubborn, intelligent (and far too aware of it), condescending, with a slight drug problem.

But what John didn't know was that he was missing quite a few puzzle pieces…

CHAPTER 1: A SURPRISING REVELATION

It was a completely normal day until there came a harried, incessant pounding on the door of 221B Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson, bless her heart, could be heard chastising whoever was knocking ("Really dear, this is quite unnecessary! He isn't in!") but she was barely audible over the screams of a small child.

"Leggo me! Leggo me NOW!"

John sighed. Why was it the craziest people showed up whenever Sherlock was out? He reluctantly put down his book and rose, going to answer the door.

This revealed a young woman with a half-shaved hairstyle so popular on teenagers, dyed neon green. Her lipstick and eye shadow were electric blue. Her eyes were brown, lined with a thick black line of heavy eyeliner, and she was wearing a purple camisole, a black leather jacket, and torn up black jeans with black flip flops. She looked like the drummer to some sort of rock band, and she looked pissed.

Beside her was the source of the screams, which had stopped when John opened the door. The young woman held a little girl of about four or five tightly by the wrist, and the little girl appeared to be in the middle of tugging herself free. One foot was braced against the woman's leg. She looked up at John from beneath unruly dark brown curls with bright, curious blue eyes. She took in John's appearance with a single, cursory glance before returning to her original task of freeing herself.

The other woman wasted no time. "Is he in?"

"If you mean Sherlock, no he isn't. There's been a rather unusual missing persons case and Scotland Yard called him to investigate. What is it you need?"

The young woman scowled. "Ugh. I don't have time for this. Are you his flatmate? Can you call and tell him to come back, tell him it's really important?"

John shook his head. 'Sorry, I'm afraid not. He turns off his phone for things like this."

The woman let out a frustrated growl and marched in, pushing past John and Mrs. Hudson, dragging the little girl behind her. The child immediately began to put up another fight, though mercifully without screaming.

"You hurting me." The child said sternly, very articulate for her age, bracing her feet against the carpet. "You leggo me right now!"

"Just shut up and sit still!" the woman snapped, exasperation on every inch of her face.

"No! Sitting still is borrriiinnnggg!" the child whined, kicking as the young woman grabbed her by the arms and tried to wrestle her down onto the sofa. John stood there, feeling uncomfortable. What on Earth was he supposed to do? The young woman looked quite dangerous. Judging from her tone, the child was usually difficult. He took this opportunity to try his own hand at deduction.

The little girl was wearing worn jeans and a green zip-up jacket, little blue sneakers on her feet. Her eyes were bright blue, perceptive and intelligent, and her dark curls played leapfrog around her face and shoulders. She was rather pretty. But she was also clearly stubborn. The second the young woman sat her down and straightened up, the little girl took off, running as fast as her little legs would carry her across the living room and into Sherlock's bedroom, screaming "NOOOOOO!" on her way.

"VIOLET!" the woman yelled after her, then groaned and covered her face. John started towards the room, intending to remove her from it, before the young woman held up a weary hand to stop him. "Don't bother, she's hidden by now and won't come out unless she wants to. I never caught your name." she added, looking at him inquiringly.

"John Watson."

"Nice to meet you, John. I'm Sabrina Murray."

They shook hands, then Sabrina sat down with a groan, swinging a large red backpack off of her back and depositing it on the floor next to her foot. "My niece…ugh, I'm sorry about her. I don't know what her problem is. I'm hoping Sherlock can help me with that."

John was just picturing Sherlock's face if Sabrina told him she had come to him for child-rearing advice when the door opened and Sherlock himself swept in, not noticing Sabrina at the other end of the couch as he spoke to John, untying his scarf as he did so.

"I swear, John, Lestrade is the only officer in the entire Scotland Yard that won't drive me to insanity before the year is out… what the hell are you doing here?"

He had noticed Sabrina on the end of the couch, but there was no time for introductions. John took a sip of tea, trying to prepare himself for the afternoon, and at the same instant, a delighted little voice screamed "DADDY!" from the door of Sherlock's room.

John choked on his tea, and a second later, as Sherlock's head snapped towards his door, a streak of brown curls and green jacket flew from the doorway to attach itself to Sherlock's leg.

To John's surprise, Sherlock didn't appear fazed in the least. Instead, he stood for a second before crouching down to the child's level. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her to a comfortable position on his hip as he straightened and spoke to Sabrina. "Again I ask, what the hell are you doing here? It isn't my weekend yet."

John blinked, again confused. Yes, Sherlock disappeared a weekend every month, but John had absolutely no idea where he went. His eyes strayed to Violet, who was leaning her head contentedly on Sherlock's shoulder, one little fist curled into the collar of his coat. He was suddenly struck with the similarity of the two: both had dark curly hair and bright blue eyes, and he could see hints of Sherlock's features in the little girl, though the sharp angles had been softened somehow, the high cheekbones prominent on both faces more gentle and graceful on Violet's face.

John blinked. Was he seeing what he thought he was seeing?

"I've reversed the paperwork." Sabrina was saying. "She's your responsibility now, I just can't handle her, and she's driving me crazy." She pointed to the large red backpack. "Those are her clothes, books, a few other things I grabbed. She can tell you everything else. I have to go." She gave a curt nod in Violets direction. "Bye, Violet."

Violet lifted her head to bestow a sweet smile. "Bye, Aunt Sabrina. Have fun on your date."

Sabrina blinked. "Wha… oh never mind." She turned to John, still sitting frozen on the couch, staring at this exchange. "Best of luck to you, Mr. Watson."

Then she left, leaving John extremely confused.

Sherlock stood there for a second, listening to Sabrina's footsteps descend the stairs, before he laughed and spun around, holding Violet up so she flew through the air with him, making her squeal with delight. John watched them, still confused.

"Hahaha! You're-you're staying with me now!" Sherlock gasped out, now holding Violet close. She looked up at him, eyes going wide with a sudden realization.

"Will I ever have to go back, Daddy?"

Sherlock's expression softened and he hugged her. "Not if I have any say in it, Violet."

"A-hem." John muttered, causing both to look at him.

Sherlock sighed and shifted Violet to his hip again. "Ah yes, introductions. Violet, this is John Watson, a close friend. John, this is Violet Holmes." He grinned down at her and said, quietly, "My daughter."