My sisters have been trying to convince me to write fanfiction, so here's a quick Sherlock fanfiction. Tell me what you think and I might continue.

Joan watched Sherlock as he paced about the kitchen. She was worried about him. After several minutes of solid thinking he turned to her.
"There's something I need to do," He said rather abruptly.
"What?" She asked.
He stepped forward and pressed his lips to hers ever so gently. He pulled back, slightly embarrassed. Joan put her fingers to her lips. They tingled from the brief contact. Without thinking she laced her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again. She stood so that he wouldn't have to lean over.
Later she found herself naked in his bed. Her back pressed to his chest. His arm curled around her while he snored gently into her ear. She shut her eyes, and drifted away into an easy sleep.

"Goodbye Joan." The words rang through her head still. It had been two weeks since Sherlock had jumped off the building; two weeks and a day since... She refused to let herself remember that night. She had left 221b. Mrs. Hudson had tried to get her to stay, but she had refused. Now that she thought back, it had been a selfish decision. Mrs. Hudson needed her, Sherlock had been a part of her life as well.
She pushed herself out of bed. Her stomach lurched immediately and she found herself in the bathroom with her head in the toilet; her body dispelling even the most remote contents of her stomach. After a while she straightened, mentally checking her symptoms. Nothing that could really be the reason except... She immediately pushed the thought out of her mind.
She went through her symptoms again. Sore breasts, light period, cramps, nausea. She couldn't be. It was impossible. She couldn't be.
She dressed and ate quickly before running to the nearest store. She grabbed the first three pregnancy tests she saw. She was exceptionally angry at the man at the checkout and his horrid slowness. After what seemed like several ages she was back at her flat staring at the third of the three tests, not sure what she wanted it to say. The first and second had been positive. She shut her eyes, when she opened them there was a little pink plus on the test. Positive.
Pulling out her phone she scrolled directly to the contact she tried so hard to ignore. Without thinking she typed:
I'm pregnant, it's yours. -JW
Her eyes filled with tears when she remembered that Sherlock would never get the message. She curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor, wishing more than anything Sherlock would burst through the door and tell her it was all right.

It was several months before anything of interest happened. She had moved back to 221b to live with Mrs. Hudson, and continued to grow. The thing of interest was her ultrasound. Doctor What's-his-name showed her yet another picture of her and Sherlocks baby.
"Would you like to know the gender Dr. Watson?" The Doctor asked.
Joan nodded. Not pulling her eyes away from the picture.
"It's a girl," the Doctor told her, "A healthy baby girl."
Joan nearly started crying at this. She hadn't realized how much she had wanted her child to be a boy, just so that it could be like Sherlock.
It's a girl -JW
She had made it a habit to text him whenever anything even remotely interesting happened.
A black Mercedes pulled up next to the hospital. Knowing exactly who it was, Joan climbed in. Truthfully, she missed Mycroft Holmes and his odd ways.
The car didn't stop until it reached a large manor house. Joan was actually surprised at this. She expected an abandoned warehouse or something of that sort. Anthea led her through the house to a sitting room where Mycroft was reading a book.
"Hello Joan," He said shutting his book and looking her over. His eyes immediately locked onto her swollen belly. He looked at her face and she nodded answering the unspoken question.
"What are you going to name it?" Mycroft asked.
"I don't know what I'm going to name her," Joan admitted, "I actually thought she would be a boy."
"May I suggest a name?"
Joan nodded.
"Sherlock was very fond of our mother, so how about Violet?"
Joan nodded again. Though it felt odd accepting suggestions from Mycroft, she liked the name. Then she realized something.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"His last message to me was: Take care of her. I've been neglecting that request."
"I don't need to be taken care of." With that Joan turned to walk away, before she could, she stopped herself. "I'll let you know when she comes." That was the last thing she said.
Mycroft suggested we name her Violet. I like it, what do you think? -JW

There were three texts sent out. One to Lestrade whom she'd kept in contact with, one to Mycroft whom she hadn't, and one to Sherlock who would never meet his daughter. Mrs. Hudson rushed her to St. Bart's. Everything went smoothly and by the next morning, she held her daughter, little Violet Maria Watson. She looked as much like Sherlock as a little baby girl could. Thick black curls and eyes that Joan somehow knew would look just like his.
Even as everyone passed her around, smiling happily, there was a certain sadness. Sherlock should have been there to meet his daughter. To hold her and smile with everyone. To be proud of himself and Joan. For the little miracle they created.
The next day when Joan and Violet were released, Joan took them to the cemetery. Before she could go back to 221b she had to let Sherlock meet his daughter.
She stood before him, their tiny girl awake in her arms.
"Hello Sherlock," she began, "I know it's been awhile, and I'm sorry for not visiting more often, but I've been rather busy." She held Violet up for him to see. "I just wanted you to meet Violet, she's your daughter you know. Mycroft told me Violet was your mothers name. I really hope you like it." She stepped forward and set her hand on the cold black tombstone. "Goodbye Sherlock."
As she walked away tears streamed down her face. She clutched her child to her chest. She wished he would just stop it. Just not be dead. For her, and for Violet.

Nearby a man sat behind a tree, crying. Knowing that if he went to his love and his daughter, they would both be shot and killed. Part of him just wanted to run to them, to tell them it was okay, that he was alive.
His phone buzzed.
Please don't be dead, for her. -JW
He stood more determined than ever to find Moran and stop him. He had a family now, and it was his job to protect them.

Violet matured quickly. Her first word was "doctor" and she took her fist steps at nine months. Her eyes did end up being like Sherlock's. In fact, she looked more and more like Sherlock everyday.
She looks just like you -JW
Joan started visiting the Yard when Violet turned one. Though she refused to take her to any crime scenes. Everyone loved her, even Donovan.
Greg claims that she told him the killer was "obviously the brother." I think she was just quoting one of the stories I told her. Greg still loves having her around. -JW
Sherlock appeared in her personality at an early age. By the age of two she had developed a strong dislike of Mycroft, and loved to tell people what they were trying to hide. She always wore a little coat that looked like the one Sherlock had always worn, and hated tacky baby clothes.
Today she asked Mycroft how the diet was going. It's only her second birthday. She's going to be just like you, I know it. Please don't be dead anymore. For her and for me, we miss you. -JW

Hope you liked it! Tell me what you thought!

-Criminal