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"I'm bored!" cried Sherlock as he started pacing round the room.
"Why don't you take the case Mycroft gave you last week? He is your brother
Sherlock." said John, while reading his newspaper. Sherlock looked at him with utter disgust on his face.
"Oh yeah I forgot you don't do sentiment." said John bluntly. Sherlock stopped pacing. He didn't know how to reply to John's rare outburst, normally he would just sigh or agree with him.
"I'm bored." he said again and jumped onto the sofa.
"Well I've hidden your bloody gun if you were planning to blame it on the wall again."
"The wall had it coming."
John sighed. He knew he was fighting a battle he had already lost. "Tea?"
"Black, two sugars." replied Sherlock while staring at the ceiling. He heard a cab pull up outside 221B. Finally a case! Well that's what he hoped anyway.
He heard a deep male voice, mid forties, smoker, low class, no children of his own, tall, rather large, no job and very very angry.
BANG BANG BANG!
Whatever this man wanted, he was at the door.
"Who have you upset now?" shouted John from the kitchen.
"An easier question to answer is who haven't I upset, John." he stated. He could hear John's quiet chuckle from where he was sitting which gave him a small smile. At least this 'visitor' would entertain him for a little while.
"You can't just come in here without saying who you are!" cried Mrs Hudson. John came in with the tea and looked at Sherlock. They both turned to the man standing in the doorway. He held a teenage girl by her arm in his left hand and threw her into the room. She managed to keep her balance but he pushed her to the ground.
"She's your problem now." he said to the men. "She's your fucking daughter after all."
The man ran down the stairs and slammed the door behind him. The girl stood up and brushed herself down. She looked at the two men and the woman looking at her. She didn't say a word. Sherlock looked up and down her once.
"Around 15," the girl jumped at Sherlock's voice. "bitten nails so she's worried about something, scruffy hand me down clothes, poor background, scars in her wrist, self harm, bruising around her arm and neck, domestic abuse, dark eyes so she's tired, locket around her neck so she's lost someone close, older female relative, not her grandmother, lack of communication in her family, must be her-"
"Sherlock!" John shouted at him, causing the girl to jump again. How could he do that from one look? He's clever but seems to be very bored... She thought to herself.
"What? If she's not going to tell you about herself, John, then it's easier if I just tell you myself."
John. His name was John. She turned and looked at this man, holding two cups of tea. Obviously one was for this Sherlock and one for himself but what about the older lady in the doorway who she then realised was talking to her.
"Just ignore these two, they're having another domestic." Sherlock scowled at her. "Are you ok dear?" she asked. The girl nodded.
"What did he mean daughter anyway?" said Sherlock. "We both know I can't have a child."
John looked at the girl in shock. She must be his. She had green eyes and quite long curly brown hair, the same colour his was when he was her age. She was about two inches shorter than himself. The girl stared back at him intently.
"John Watson?" the girl asked in a timid voice. They all looked at her.
"Yes?" John replied slightly shaken by this news.
"My name's Marie, Marie Jackson."
