The small figure scurried through the quite streets of early london, her footprints betraying her as they appeared on the snow. A hood lay over the persons eye's ,and a bundle of purple and blue blankets pressed to their chest.
They spotted a dark, wooden door with a crooked knocker. They made out the address as they read the golden numbers which were nailed to the door. 221b.
Silently they scurried across the quiet street, over to the door. Gently she lay the bundle down, and knocked. The sound echoed through the building, then she ran off, leaving the bundle, leaving the baby.
The dark wooden door opened to reveal a yawing man with sandy hair and blue eyes. He looked around, seeing nobody. He was about to close the door when he spotted the bundle of blankets. Curiously he reached down and scooped the blankets up in his arms, and shut the door. Once the door clicked shut he unraveled the blanket, revealing a sleeping baby.
"Sherlock! !"
The man yelled, waking the baby. Sherlock, in his robe, sweatpants and white shirt, ran down the stairs. Panic painted his face. , who had been cooking, stepped out of her kitchen.
"What is it dear?"
She asked, one hand on the handle of the door that lead into thekitchen, and the other held a wooden rollar.
"John, what's wrong?"
Sherlock restated her question. John was about to say something when noticed the baby in John's arms.
"Oh dear."
Was all she said before dropping theroller and snatching the child away from John. Sherlock pulled John off to the side by his forearm.
"What happened?"
Sherlock asked. John looked over at the smiling then back at Sherlock.
"I heard a knock and found the child on the front step."
He explained. Sherlock sighed.
"What are we going to do with it?"
He asked, referring the child as some kind of parasite.
"We are going to keep it."
John whispered, trying not to let hear, trying not to get her hopes up.
"What?"
Sherlock hissed, his eyes wide. He came off as angry but John could see the fear in his friend's eye's.
"Sherlock, we can take care of that child. Her mother dropped her off on our porch step. So obviously no one else will take her."
John argued, Sherlock looked down at John. What he could say? No?
"Okay. What will we name her?"
Sherlock asked and saw John smile. He grabbed the smiling baby from and handed her over to Sherlock, whose eye's widened a fraction.
The baby looked up at him with stormy eyes, she already had sprouts of brown hair which dotted her small head.
" Emilia Fey Holmes."
Sherlock said, he glanced over at John who nodded.
"Emilia."
He repeated and saw the baby yawn, her pale lips forming a perfect O.
John watched as Sherlock stared down at the now sleeping Emilia.
"Welcome home, Emilia."
(What did you all think? Honest opinions! please)