Chapter One
Sherlock awoke to sunlight streaming through the living room window. He had fallen asleep in his chair again. This was the third time this week. He stretched out his long legs and stood up, stretching out his back and arms as he went. He did not usually sleep this much, especially not out in the living room. He walked down the hall and looked into his bedroom at the small form which was still asleep in his bed. The child had been sleeping in his bed ever since he had brought her home from America 2 weeks ago. He knew that he should move her up to John's old room, but he didn't like the idea of the girl having a bedroom with an outside entrance. He didn't want anything to happen to her, to The Woman's daughter. To his daughter.
He had known of course, that he was a father from the beginning. From that fateful text message almost 9 years ago. The one that was sent because he refused to answer The Woman's calls. Those words were forever etched in his memory.
You're going to be a father, Mr. Holmes.
Of course at the time he had gone into shock. He had missed 12 more phone calls from The Woman over the course of the next 2 days. He had sat silently in his flat, John off visiting Harry, Mrs. Hudson fretting over him and bringing him tea which remained untouched. He may have never snapped out of it had Irene not climbed in his window.
"Mr. Holmes, I see that it is not only my phone calls which you have been neglecting." She spoke to him with her soft voice, motioning to the untouched tray of biscuits and the still full cuppa tea.
He did not move at all to acknowledge her existence, simply stared on at the same spot on the wall which he had been watching for two days.
She walked over to him quietly, holding out a snapshot. "Would you like to see her, Sherlock?" She asked him.
Sherlock reached out his hand and caught The Woman's wrist in a tight grasp. He stood up and towered over her, looking into her eyes to search for a sign that this was another trick. When he was not satisfied with what he saw there, his eyes wandered down to her stomach which was lightly swollen with child. She was easily already 20 weeks along. He counted in his head once again to that night. The night that they had dinner. The timeline added up perfectly as he knew that it would. There was no denying the truth. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever left no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Sherlock was going to be a father.
He had of course handled the situation. He helped Irene to fake her death in Karachi so that she and the child would be safe. He even spent time with them during his own brief exile of the dead. However he never had imagined that his child would be here, in 221B Baker Street, asleep in his bed. Never had the thought crossed his mind that The Woman would be found by her enemies again. That the time would come when the child would be safer with him, a self-proclaimed sociopath than with her mother. However that time had come, and now he was not just a father in a far off land. He had become a daddy.
The past week of having his daughter live with him had been interesting to say the least. He had to learn to remember that children need to be fed, and quite a lot it seemed. For such a skinny child she sure did eat a vast quantity. He also had to learn how to share his flat with a cat. One which was constantly taking over his chair. He also had to deal with his elder brother Mycroft, as he continued to try to wheedle himself into the child's life, enrolling her in a prestigious school and threatening to tell Mummy if Sherlock did not follow his every order. Sherlock knew that it was silly to be afraid of what Mummy would do, but he also did not want to deal with it at the moment. He was having a hard enough time dealing with it on his own, let alone with his parents coming down to visit and trying to take over as he knew would happen.
He was brought back into reality when the child stretched and sat up on the bed, her dark curly hair knotted around her face and sticking up in all directions. He was still not used to the pang of emotion which he felt when he saw her at times like this. The happiness that it produced. The great Sherlock Holmes was going soft, and over a child.
"Good morning Daddy." She said with a smile, as she stood up on the bed and reached her arms out to him. "What's for breakfast?" Sherlock walked over and picked up her small form, drawing her into a hug. He never thought that he would gain so much from having someone so small around, even if at times she was incredibly annoying.
He carried her into the kitchen, setting her down on one of the kitchen chairs at a corner of the table which he had rearranged just for this. His lab had gained a domestic side, albeit small. He shook his head in wonder as he pulled out a bowl and filled it with Frosted Flakes. He set the bowl on the table in front of his daughter and filled it with milk. "There you go, Miss eats-a-lot." He said and ruffled her hair. He walked back to the bedroom to get dressed while Alex was busy eating her cereal.
As had become usual, Sherlock and Alex caught a cab at roughly 7.30 in order to make it to Primrose Hill Primary School by starting time. Sherlock was not too sure about this new school, they seemed a bit too stuck up, but according to Mycroft it was one of the best schools in the area. Sherlock instructed the cab to drop Alex off at the entrance, and waited until she was safely inside before giving the command to take him to St. Bart's.