Sherry Holmes, age 7

"Daddy, who's that?" Little Sherry pointed at the picture. It was nicely framed, and it had the whole Holmes family in it. Sherlock, Sherrinford, Mycroft and baby Sherry with their mother. Mr Holmes took the picture of the happy family. It was taken days after the birth of the Holmes Girl, the only daughter of the Holmes family. A rose among the thorns, as they say. They were all beaming, smiling as wide as they could, ecstatic that they could welcome an addition to the family of geniuses, or was it genii?

Sherrinford smiled as his thoughts drifted to the past. They were all happy, then. But of course, it was only 15 years after Sherry was born that everything changed. Enemies became brothers, and families settled down. Sherrinford, his wife Molly, and their daughter named after his sister, Sherry. Sherlock, married to John, with a son named Hamish. Mycroft and Greg, with William. Sherrinford was the only straight brother of the Holmes siblings. The sister, of course, was gone. She had died saving his life.

"That's Sherry, darling." Sherrinford answered his daughter's question. His daughter's blue eyes twinkled in confusion. She had her father's eyes, but she took after her mother, mostly.

"But I'm Sherry! Is that me when I was born?"

"No, love. Do you want to hear a story?" He asked her. She nodded enthusiastically and led her father to the sofa, where her father sat, pulling her onto his lap.

"You were named after the bravest girl I have ever known. She was fearless, and had risked her life for me. She was a wonderful girl, and she was married to Uncle Jim. Remember Uncle Jim? He came over a few days ago."

Little Sherry frowned. "Of course I remember Uncle Jim! He gave me Mr Cuddles!" Mr Cuddles was this big teddy bear that Jim had bought for her, as a present. It was her height, and she wouldn't go to sleep without it. When she slept, she would hug the teddy bear as tightly as she could and never let go. She really loved Mr Cuddles. Mr Cuddles and her were inseparable.

"Okay, sweetheart. Anyway, she is someone you'd look up to, someone that was worth every diamond in Earth and someone you would never forget." Sherry's father's eyes twinkled as he reminisized the long gone but not forgotten memories.

"Was she pretty?"

Sherrinford nodded. "She was beautiful, like a princess. She had wavy hair, wide curious eyes and a wonderful smile. She always had a mischievous and knowing twinkle in her eyes. You look like her, except for the eyes."

"She sounds like a wunnieful person, Daddy."

"Yes, she was, and it's wonderful, not wunnieful." Sherrinford smiled. Little Sherry stuck her tongue out. "That's not nice, darling. Put your tongue back in." Sherry giggled and obediently followed her father's orders. "Good girl."

"Someday, I want to be like Sherry!" Sherry declared. "I want to be as brave as her, as pretty as her, and as wunnieful as her!"

Sherrinford let out a low chuckle. "One day, darling. One day."

From that day on, Sherry started to ask a million questions on Sherry. 'What was she like?', 'How was she so wunnieful?', 'Why did she die?' or 'Would she like me if she was here?' among other questions. Little Sherry made it her mission to be as 'wunnieful' as Sherry. Sherrinford and Molly encouraged her to, as Sherry had wonderful qualities that should be an example of a good girl. Sherlock was a little uneasy, unsure if he wanted a younger version of Sherry. Jim however, was happy. He was, after all, the godfather, and he raised her like a mini Sherry that he had wanted all those years ago. He loved Sherry like she was his own, and Sherry loved him like a second father. To quote her, 'He's a wunnieful daddy! He should have his own little ones so I'm have coosins!' Sherrinford corrected her pronunciation, and agreed with her. But he knew the reason Jim didn't have his own.

Jim was still mourning over the loss of his beloved wife, after seven years. He had loved her deeply, and he never forgave himself for saying those words to her, even after being repeatedly told that she forgave him, by Sherrinford and the letter Sherry had wrote for him before she died. He had made excuses, saying that he was simply too busy with work. It was half-true. He was up to his neck deep in the work for the Sherry Foundation for Ex Criminals that Want Change for Loved Ones. Most people couldn't believe that the foundation was still running good after seven years. Jim believed that Sherry was helping him do the right thing. Even after death, she was encouraging him to do good things in life, in her name.

Sherlock and John still went about, doing detective work for the Scotland Yard. They were the most respected detectives in the department, much to Sally Donovan's chagrin. Anderson became Sherlock's successor, and is now a famous lecturer and professor in the Science side, of everything. He was like Stephen Hawking, but of course, no one could beat Stephen Hawking. Sherlock and John were going back and forth, caring for their son and managing detective work. But they got by pretty well.

Mycroft was still in his so-called 'minor position' in the Government, but everyone knew better. Greg Lestrade, DI of Scotland Yard, was still doing his job, as a Detective Inspector. He had once joked that his division, which was unknown to everyone including himself at times, was his family, both Mycroft and William, resulting in Mycroft blushing, William and Hamish pulling disgusted faces.

The family was at bliss, albeit losing one beloved member of the family. They had never forgotten about Sherry. They merely kept her in a special place in their mind palaces, a treasure chest filled with cherished moments and fond memories, to be opened for telling stories to Sherry, William and Hamish. And it stayed that way. She, stayed that way.

Locked in a chest, only a memory, like a friend that we never lost. The name Sherry was spoken with smiles and the highest of regards. And it continued to bring smiles to their faces, except for one, after hearing one too many stories of how perfect Sherry was.