Hello y'all. Here is another one-shot that is in the same universe as another I wrote called ' All that's sure to come.'. For those of you who haven't read it, you might want to but you don't have to to understand this.

Dedication: I would like to dedicate this to OliviaHolmes-Pond, the secret love child of amelia pond and Sherlock Holmes.

The mysterious S.

Yami'sPrincess4.

Amelia.

I'm glad that you all enjoyed it.

John Watson carefully crept into Lily's bedroom, making sure that he avoided all of the floors board which he knew would squeak when stepped on. Usually, when he woke up for work, he'd quickly pop his head in to make sure that their daughter was okay. Moving in, he walked over to the large double bed in the middle. This was for two reasons really. One, he wanted to make sure that her head was poking out of the large bundle of blankets that she'd managed to wrap herself in during the course of the night. He wouldn't want her to suffocate or over heat. The second was to make sure that she wasn't just reading beneath the covers. The little girl had an awful habit for doing it but his husband didn't even attempt to put a stop to it. No. Instead, he simply bought her a little torch so she'd be able to see the words clearly. When he confronted the detective about this, he was put firmly in his place.

" It's better then her using a candle, isn't it John?".

He had to agree. All it would take is for her to fall asleep with it lit and the whole place would be on fire... not that he believed her to be that foolish but that certain 11 year old had a rather abnormal body clock. If she was supposed to be asleep, you could guarantee that she was wide awake. When she was expected to be awake, like in class for instance, she could be found asleep on the desk. Sherlock had simply rationalised that she might have a form of insomnia which kept her awake at night. Lily had further rationalised that all her teachers were incredibly dull and sleeping was the only thing which seemed to help her ignore them. Sherlock Holmes had accepted this. John Watson had not.

When he finally reached her side, he gasped softly. From what he could see in the limited light, that managed to get through the heavy black curtains, her face was paler then it was the previous night. Going into doctor mode without a moment's hesitation, he placed a hand on her forehead. She had developed one hell of a temperature while she slept but John could also feel her body shivering beneath his hand which would explain the half dozen blankets swaddled around her and why she was actually sleeping. Sighing, he dropped a kiss to her clammy forehead then turned, intent on going to call work and tell Sarah that there was no way he could go in. He didn't like the idea of leaving her alone and vulnerable with Sherlock.

But please, don't misinterpret. It's not that he didn't trust his husband to take care of Lily because he knew that the detective could be rather protective of his little girl but the last thing that needed to happen was Sherlock attempting to mix medicines together or give her some experimental products that just happened to be knocking around the place. Surely, not even the great Sherlock Holmes could just stumble across some of the substances he had used in the past.

Glancing at the clock, he knew that he'd have a solid 5 minutes before his partner's internal alarm went off, waking him up and a good 15 minutes before Lily's clock did the same thing. The good doctor moved over to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on then, while waiting for it to boil, he dialled the phone number to the primary school. Sadly for his daughter, her uncle and grandmother had high expectations for her, meaning that she attended a private school that both Mycroft and Sherlock had attended.

" Hello? St Worthington's private school for the gifted youth of today where our motto is : They're our future to mould how we please. What can I do for you this fine morning?". ' That woman is way too chirpy for 6:50am.'. John thought to himself though he didn't allow it to show in his voice, forcing it to match the same upbeat tone she had used.

" Hi. This is John W-Holmes, Lillian Holmes' father. I just wanted to call and inform you that Lily won't be at school today because she has come down with something.". The sound of typing filled the background from her end, the sound of splashing water filling the silence from his though neither seemed to care that much. Both were too preoccupied at that moment.

" Okay Dr Holmes, I have just send an email to all of her teachers whom she was to be taught by today so they will be kept in the loop. We hope she gets better soon. Goodbye.". Before he could even utter his own farewell, the chirpy woman had hung up, a long beep filling his ear. Rolling his eyes, he removed the phone from the part between his neck and shoulder and placed it back in it's cradle. Then, just as he was about to take the three mugs and put them on the kitchen table, a long pale arm grabbed one from right under his nose before a shorter, slightly trembling hand, did the same.

Call it stupid but he knew exactly who took which one because of the cups they had chosen. You see, it was his idea in the first place because Sherlock was forever complaining that everyone was using his mug. In an attempt to stop the yelling, John came up with a silly idea. After searching online, he found a website that personalised mugs and had Sherlock make Lily one, Lily make him one and he'd make Sherlock's. Since then, it had become infinitely easier.

Lily's was purple and had ' Consulting Detective In Training' on the side in fancy bold font. When she saw it, she literally squealed and choked Sherlock by hugging him a little too tightly around the neck but he didn't seem to care that much. He just patted her back gently, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips.

John's was a creamy colour with ' Loved By Sherlock Holmes!' on the front in a font that looked like a child had finger painted it in bright red paint. He had kissed her forehead and hugged her gently for the design before chuckling at her proud cheesy grin.

Now Sherlock's was also purple though a much darker shade than his daughters and on it was what John had heard him say whenever a new case was given to them. ' The Game Is Afoot.' To the army doctor, the phrase seemed rather fitting. In return for the cup, the detective drew him into a deep kiss by the front of his jumper, causing Lily to cover her eyes before announcing " It burns!" dramatically.

" Why, if you don't me inquiring dad, did you call my school?" Lily asked from her place at the table. Her voice sounded strained and horse, no doubt from coughing through the night while she slept. Sherlock instantly took note and went to feel her forehead like John had done before but she weakly batted his hand away with her own while taking a sip from her cup.

" Lily..." he scolded softly, his tone warning, while reaching towards her once more but the same thing happened. His little girl, though she felt horrible, would not show any weakness to her parents. She didn't care if she had a throbbing head ache or that her body screamed in protest whenever she made to move. Like those around her, she'd push through it all without complaint.

" Either you allow me to take your temperature with my hand or I will go and ask Mrs Hudson if I may borrow her rectal thermometer.". The threat hung in the air while they stared at each other. Weary blue into warning blue. John simply watched on in vague amusement, finding it funny that even though the 11 year old was ill, she still put up a fight with her father.

" You wouldn't dare...". Now everyone in that room knew that that sentence was the worst thing that could possibly be said. Even Lily had clamped a hand over her mouth, her face paling even more the it was before. If there was one thing that you shouldn't do in your life, it was dare Sherlock Holmes because he would do it, if only to prove that he was an intelligent genius who didn't know what fear felt like. Well, at that moment, his daughter couldn't say the same thing.

Rising from the chair, the detective made his way towards the door of the kitchen but was stopped by a small hand resting on his arm. Following up the arm, he was met with the pleading eyes of his only child. They showed fear, exhaustion and pain which was enough to make him falter briefly.

" Yes little one?". With a tiny sigh of defeat, Lily moved his hand to her head and the other went to rest on her cheek instinctively. The heat beneath his palms startled him a little bit, his mind instantly telling him that she had managed to catch a virus... an infection as a fever was an obvious tell tale sign. He knew that it was most likely flu so he removed the cup from her hand, only to be met by protest.

" Daddy..."

" Don't whine Lily. It will achieve nothing as you already know. From now until I say, you'll be drinking things that are cold and can be seen through so that means no more tea. It absorbs important nutrients from food which will only hinder your recovery time." he explained, moving to get the little girl a cool glass of water. It would lower her fever and also help to flush out the infection but the others could only stare. It was rare that he was ever that forceful with her. Usually, though he complained about John being too lenient, he was a complete push over.

" John, will you please see to it that she climbs back into her bed before you go to work?"

" but Sherlock..."

" I'm aware that you phoned ahead but you can trust me to keep a close eye on her. I already suspect that I'll have to sit in her room so she doesn't step a foot out of her bed." he complained, placing the tall glass into her hand before turning her around by her shoulders. With a gentle push, she began moving to her bedroom though she didn't do so without whispered complaints. Oh yes. Lily was definitely a Holmes at heart.

John, knowing when he was defeated, got dressed and left the flat 10 minutes later after making Sherlock promise to call him at lunch with an update on how their little girl was doing. Once the door had closed, the detective grabbed his laptop and went to sit in her room. When he got there, he saw that she was buried in her sheets again, Alice in wonderland resting on her lap and open at the first page. For that, he couldn't but smile.

"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought -
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."

Sherlock recited, watching as his daughter's eyes lit up with recognition and surprise. Though he thought that the story was nothing more then a children's story, he did rather enjoy that one poem which the author wrote to pair with the stories. She, however, loved the stories so he made a challenge out of it and was determined to memorise the whole poem.

When he saw that her eyes were getting heavy and that she was struggling to keep them open, he said it again and kept on repeating it softly until she was fast asleep. Only then did he fall silent and begin working, knowing that she would feel better after being well rested.

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