This is my first fanfiction, so bear with me. I'm not quite sure how this is going to go, but I have a few chapters written already. I've read plenty of stories about Sherlock having a daughter, so I thought What if John had a daughter that he didn't know about? It takes place after series 3 (if you are reading this in the future, after series 4, I'm sorry it's inaccurate). Okay, here goes nothing.

The sound of their footsteps echoed around the halls of the school. It was kind of strange, he thought, that he was actually looking forward to this. John, however, seemed bored and angry. Considering the circumstances, it was as if they had switched personalities.

They entered the auditorium and found adjacent seats close to the front. The headmaster of the school gave a brief speech about how the talent show would work. Why is it called giving a speech? No-one is receiving anything. Yet another pointless expression that Sherlock didn't bother to understand. He wasn't really paying attention, though. He was thinking.

He was thinking about how he, Sherlock Holmes, was proud of another human being. It was complicated though, because he wasn't her father, John was. He had tried to convince himself not to get involved, to be like Mycroft, but here he was, at a talent show for her.

A few acts passed, including idiotic magic shows that he could see right through, and off-key singing. Very few were actually decent, and none were what they came to see. Until the last act.

They introduced her using her full name, Emma Omniscia Watson. He could see her ears burning bright red as she walked across the stage to the grand piano. He glanced at John, who was staring ahead. Little did John know that this would be the first time he would hear his daughter's voice. John knew that she had been taking piano lessons, as he had paid for them, but that was it. He'd never known much about Omni after all the years since he first met her at age twelve. That was four years ago.

Omni sat down at the piano as a stagehand brought her a microphone on a stand. John turned to him, clearly confused, wondering why his mute daughter needed a microphone. Sherlock shrugged, but didn't say anything. The blonde girl at the piano, who looked so much like his friend, looked at Sherlock. He nodded and she closed her eyes, starting to move her fingers across the keys. She really was an excellent pianist. Though she never mentioned it, he wondered if she had ever taken lessons as a child.

He had heard her play this song so many times, the words were practically burned into his mind. He had listened to the song on the internet immediately after she told him the title, Nearly Forgot My Broken Heart. The first thought that crossed his mind was that the music in the song was almost completely guitar. She later explained that she would replace the guitar music with piano. He questioned it the entire time, but she made it work, just like she said she would.

After the intro, she opened her mouth and began to sing. That was when he realized that was not only the first time John would hear her voice, but the first time that anyone in that room would, except for him. She had, for reasons he did not know, trusted him more than anyone else, more than her own father. She didn't speak to those she didn't trust.

Everyone around him had their mouths hanging open with shock. Her voice was pure and beautiful, and she hit the notes perfectly. The words were sung with raw passion. When she opened her eyes, she looked into John's. She was crying, and wasn't trying to hide it.

Every time I stare into the sun, trying to find a reason to go on, all I ever get is burned and blind, until the sky bleeds the pouring rain.

When you came along, the time was right. You pulled me like an apple, red and ripe. It wasn't very long, when you took a bite, did me wrong, and it serves me right.

[And I nearly forgot my broken heart, it's taken me miles away from the memory of how we broke apart. Here we go round again, again]

Every little key unlocks the door. Every little secret has a lie. Trying to take a picture of the sun, but it won't help you to see the light.

Every little word upon your lips makes a little cut where blood pours out. Every little drop of blood's a kiss that I won't miss, not for anything.

[Chorus]

Every single feeling tells me this is leading to a heart in broken little pieces, and you know I need this like a hole in the head.

Every single feeling tells me this is leading to a heart in broken little pieces, and you know I need this like a hole...

[Chorus X2]

As John glared at him, he realized that he was smiling. Though he usually would have caught himself and stopped, he didn't. He kept grinning, a natural, perfect grin. Omni stood, bowed, and ran straight off the stage to him. The auditorium erupted with applause. Omni caught him off guard by hugging him, her tears soaking his shirt. "Thank you, Sherlock."

He held out his arms and looked at John, unsure of what to do. "Don't ask me. You clearly know my daughter better than I do. I might as well be a stranger, Sherlock. Now, excuse me. Mary probably needs me." The words hit him like a slap to the face. Was he really blaming him for this? He didn't ask for this girl to walk into his life. And, it was John, after all, that spent all of his time with Mary and Abigail, his other daughter. Sherlock sometimes wondered if he was ashamed of Omni. Though he didn't say it, John must have known who Omni's mother was.

She let go of him and looked up at his face, their gazes connecting. Seeing her green eyes reminded him of the first time he saw her. She was standing on the steps of 221b Baker Street, her brow furrowed in disappointment. He remembered how much she looked like John, the John from back then.