Sherlock and John stepped through the door of the flat, stripping out of their coats. Their daughter sprang up from the sofa to greet them.
Sherly was a tall girl for her age of 15. She had curly black hair that was just above her shoulders, deep brown eyes, and pale skin. She dressed a lot like Sherlock; she wore a dark purple button-up shirt with black pants and shiny black shoes.
"Hello fathers," she said with a grin.
"Hello Sherly," they said in unison. The men then glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.
"So Sherly are you ready for your lessons?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes. What do you have in mind for today?"
Sherlock looked up at the ceiling, as if thinking, until John left for the kitchen. Pulling her close, he whispered, "We are going to work on the art of deduction today, and I want you to deduce John."
"Alright," she responded slowly. They stared intently at the kitchen doorway until John exited, cup of tea in hand.
"Now Sherly, tell me what you see."
"Well...he was at work for a short while today. There are wrinkles on his clothes where he sat at a desk. Not for very long, or there would have been more. He was out on a case with you, somewhere in the country. There's mud on his shoes from out of town, and splattered on the back of his trousers. Running, obviously. Given your line of work, probably after a criminal. And, given your mood, you caught the man. Then you both came back and ate at...a Chinese restaurant."
"Very good, but it was an Italian restaurant. Obviously."
Sherly turned her head away from Sherlock and scolded herself. How could she have been so stupid? It was obvious, now that she looked. A little wine on his collar where it dripped, a drop of pasta sauce on his sleeve.
"Father I need to ask you a question of importance, or well at least important to me."
"Then ask," he replied.
"Well I was wondering, why can't I go to normal public school and go out and hang out around town like normal teenagers like me?"
"There are no teenagers like you. You don't want to lower your IQ by loitering about with ordinary people, do you?"
"Well no, I guess I see your point."
"There is no school that can teach you what I can. They are dull, and stifle creativity and individualism."
"There has to be more to why you won't even let me go out that much, even with you and John."
Sherlock sighed. "There are people out there who would use you against me if they got a chance. I will not have you harmed. Here is safe."
Sherly nodded, disheartened. Sherlock noticed. "Sherly, lessons are over for now. We can continue later on."
"Thank you, father." She gave him a small smile and went upstairs to her room. Sherlock flopped onto the sofa.
John looked up from his laptop. "What's wrong?"
"She's cross with me, I can tell."
"What did you do?"
"I did nothing. She just asked me why she was home-schooled, and I told her why. What's so bad about that?"
"She's a fifteen-year-old girl, Sherlock. She needs a life outside the flat."
"It's dangerous for her outside the flat, even with us with her. I mean, think about it John. What if someone like Moriarty were to kidnap her?"
"She's not going to get kidnapped. And even if she did, she's smart enough to rescue herself. Probably seconds before you burst in, guns blazing."
"Fine. I will think about maybe setting up some time for her to leave the flat."
"You can't threaten the people she goes out with either, Sherlock," John said firmly.
Sherlock turned with his back to John while he was laying on the couch. Under his breath, he muttered sullenly, "Damn."
"You can stay down here and pout," John said, setting down his computer. "I'm going to talk to her."
While John went upstairs, Sherlock flipped onto his back and glared at the ceiling. John hadn't said he couldn't tail her when she went out...