"You have got to be kidding me. You are not going outside of this flat wearing that."
"But Dad!"
"No, I don't care what your argument is. You can dress like that when I'm dead. Hell, you can dress like that when you're dead. But not now."
"Dad, come on!"
This was completely ridiculous. Since when had 15 year-old girls become so… complicated?
"Well Julia, let's just see what your father has to say about this."
"Yes, let's." Julia shot back with a smirk. Her daddy was on her side, and that she knew.
"Sherlock!" John called. "Can you come out here for a second?"
"I'm busy John! It can wait," came a voice from the kitchen.
Julia gave her Dad a look that said, 'Let me handle this.'
"Daddy!" She called. "Could you please c—"
He was out before she could finish her sentence.
John sighed. No one could manipulate Sherlock quite like their daughter could. He knew it… and she definitely knew it. It was ridiculous, how a grown man could be so swayed by the whims of a teenager. But, he supposed, that was just part of Julia's… charm.
"What darling, what do you need?" Sherlock asked.
"Sherlock," John said angrily as Julia started to open her mouth. "Just look at her outfit!"
He glanced at his little girl, clad in only a sports bra, what looked like a t-shirt for a 5 year old, and hot pants. "What?" He asked, looking curiously at John.
"Do you, perchance, see anything wrong with this outfit?"
"No." Was his solitary reply. Then, observing the seething expression on John's face, he added, "Should I?"
"So, there is nothing wrong, in your opinion, with having your teen-age daughter walking out of the house looking like the world's cheapest prostitute!"
"It's for school, John." Sherlock replied, seemingly puzzled at his outrage.
"Oh really? Because I've reviewed her school's dress code before, and I think she's breaking almost every rule. Oh wait, not every rule, she's wearing sneakers. Delightful!"
"John, calm down. What I meant is that this is for her psychology class."
That did nothing to soothe the bewildered and somewhat angry expression on John's face, as he stated very slowly, "She's not taking… psychology… this… semester."
"Of course not, those professors are woefully incompetent. I'm teaching her. It's her segway into criminology next term at U of Dublin."
"We're testing the variance of reactions from my classmates when a dramatic behavioral change occurs." Julia piped up. "I also write down my observations of the differences in behavior I observe, and how the behavior of the subjects varies by gender, age, et cetera. I particularly want to see my gym teacher's reaction, he's sure to—"
"Nope." John stated matter of factly. "You are not walking out of the house looking like a whore, and that's final."
"You should see what every other girl at my school wears," she muttered quietly. Sherlock smirked.
"John… if she puts a jumper on…"
"Yeah Dad, why can't I just wear a pull over or something? It's frigid in those classrooms anyways…"
He saw Julia and Sherlock glance at each other. They could practically have an entire conversation without speaking a word, tell each other exactly what needed to be done. (She assimilated that trait from John, of course.)
John knew right then and there that he had lost. 2 against 1 would soon become 3 against 0, if their usual arguments were any indication.
"Dad, I won't walk to school today, how about that? I can ask Uncle My for a ride, and he can get me there in time if I call now…"
"Fine. Just… call Mycroft, and tell him to bring the longest coat he can find."
"Will do!" She kissed her Dad on the cheek. "Thanks Dad."
And Julia walked out the door and off to school, leaving an oblivious Sherlock and a John fervently praying that his daughter did not have some experiment planned for later that involved becoming a hooker.