"Daddyyyyy!" Voices belonging to his two daughters were calling him and in a matter of seconds the girls entered his room. "We want to talk to you about something." One of them informed cheerily.

Sherlock was reading the murder filled newspaper. Sherlock was tired because he just came from another boxing match, which he won by the way. Sherlock wanted to shoot some bullets into walls. In case you don't get it, Sherlock wasn't in the mood for his daughters.

"What about you mother?" He barely mumbled.

"Well, mother left for France this morning and when we asked her she told us to speak with you." Charlotte explained.

"Yes and mom also told us you can explain it better."

"Alright, so what do you want to talk about?"

"Sex."

That left Sherlock with the most shocked expression he could come up with. He was definitely going to make Irene pay for this after she returned from God knows where. Logically and normally, the most suitable person to talk about sex with a 16 year old girl and a 13 year old one was their mother. However the words 'normal' or 'logical' could not be applied to this family either way you take it. Charlotte, their older daughter, had a fascination in dark magic and her younger sister, Natalie, got a kick out of stealing jewelry or setting things on fire. It was clear by now that Sherlock's daughters were like their mother, another reason why the future of his family was never certain. If our detective would wake up one morning with, let's say, half of the house burnt and five little devils running around like kids in a candy store he wouldn't be surprised at all. Truth be told, he'd expect worse.

Sherlock snapped out of his daze before he could think of other calamities and put his straight face on, ready to give his daughters a logical explanation.

"Well… It's…" He started, but his mouth remained open and no words escaped it.

Charlotte and Natalie were waiting with hope and curiosity in their eyes.

"Yes, father…"

For the first time in his life Sherlock was speechless, so he said the first thing that came into his mind.

"It's like...when the gun in your hand is loaded and cocked. And when you're ready, you fire it and the bullet meets the target. Yeah, just like that."

Suddenly the curiosity in Charlotte and Natalie's eyes disappeared and their hope filled faces were blank.

'Oh great! I lost them. I'm going to have to explain this… this abomination again.' He thought and pitied himself.

"Dad, what if the gun doesn't have bullets?" Natalie asked.

However, the troubled father didn't have time to find a quick answer because his dear friend and long time partner entered the room with an enthusiastic look on his face. His long time partner was also a doctor and doctors knew how to explain these things to students. It didn't matter that the two different anatomical parts, that engaged in intercourse, were taught separately because Sherlock knew that no matter what, Watson could pull it off.

Upon entering, the young doctor felt unusually uncomfortable because Holmes was staring at him as if he were wearing a suit made of money and cases to crack.

"Watson! Just the person I was thinking about. How are you, mate?"

"Fine, Sherlock. I see you have actually opened a window to let some air in. Impressive improvement I must say. I've come to you with business a-"

"Not now my friend. Listen something came up and I have to go somewhere. Would you mind taking care of these little devils while I'm gone?"

"But w-"

"Wonderful. See you in a couple of hours then." He told the doctor and took his hat. "See you later pumpkins. Uncle Watson here can finish our discussion."

With that, Sherlock left for another boxing match, not before snatching Watson's coat too.

"So… What were you talking about with your father?" He asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

"He was telling us how to make love." Charlotte answered.

"Yes but we didn't quite understand. Can you be clearer, Uncle Watson?"

He was expecting to have to talk about operations, principles of physics, murders, their cases, politics, dark magic, weapons, explosives, poisons or even how their parents met, but this- THIS was worse than all of above put together.

'Bloody Hell…'

It was all Watson could think of.