"Sherlock!" cried Mrs Hudson, tottering into the flat. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and came face to face with the man himself. Mr Holmes had a pair of goggles shielding his eyes, the elastic from which had put a dent in his dark curls; he also sported a black shirt and trousers. In one hand he clutched a test tube with some dark red, ominous looking liquid, and in the other a flaming Bunsen burner. He was wearing thick brown gloves, presumably heat retardant ones.
"Sherlock! Have you gone deaf? The doorbell has been ringing for the past 5 minutes."
"Not at all Mrs Hudson. I simply elected to ignore it." As he spoke, Sherlock hooked his foot around the leg of a stool, pulled it out from under the counter, and ceremoniously flopped onto it, his gaze fixed intently on the liquid, as he moved the test tube from side to side.
"What if it's somebody important?" Mrs Hudson countered, stepping forwards.
"It won't be. John is asleep upstairs, if it was Lestrade, he would phone first. And my brother doesn't ring. He just enters regally whenever he takes interest. Although, I wouldn't count him as important, would you?" Sherlock replied blandly, heating the test tube again.
Mrs Hudson opened her mouth to reprimand him, but the doorbell rang again. "I'll get it then…" she muttered, turning to go back downstairs. John stumbled down the stairs just then, edging around Mrs Hudson to enter the living room.
"Good morning Mrs Hudson." He yawned, scratching his head.
"Good morning John. Did you sleep well?" She replied as she passed him.
"Perfectly fine Mrs Hudson." He said, before picking up the newspaper that had been abandoned on the floor. He scanned the front page, and upon seeing nothing of interest, folded it up and placed it on the arm of the sofa.
Sherlock glanced at his flatmate, taking in the ruffled hair, the dark circles under his eyes and announced, "That was a lie."
John stopped in his tracks. "Yes. Yes it was. Problem?"
Sherlock shook his head. "Not at all. Simply stating a fact."
"Well, you know how it is." John sighed, approaching the fridge.
Sherlock's eyes followed him across the room, smirking slightly, before turning his attention back to the test tube, its contents glimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the window.
"What's this one about then?" John asked, opening the fridge.
"Hhhmm?" Sherlock mumbled, raising an eyebrow, suddenly engrossed in the fact the liquid had started to bubble lightly.
"Your experiment. What's it about?"
"Unimportant." Sherlock brushed him off, setting the burner on the counter to switch it off. He then picked up what John assumed was a chunk of bread, and dropped it into the test tube. It disappeared almost instantly, the liquid absorbing its mass in a couple of seconds, much like candy floss on your tongue.
John looked back into the fridge and sighed upon discovering its contents, shutting it and turning back to the living room. "You didn't get milk again."
Sherlock didn't answer, as he was scribbling things down into a notebook.
"I'll go and get some then. Do you want anything?" John asked, grabbing his coat from where he left it on the sofa.
"No." Sherlock replied, waving a hand absentmindedly over his shoulder, pen still in hand, not taking his eyes from the page of his notebook.
As John zipped up his coat, Sherlock shook the test tube gently, turning his head one way, then the other, in an attempt to see all angles of the liquid within.
But before John could leave, Mrs Hudson came bustling back in again, this time followed by a young woman.
"Sherlock! I warned you it might be somebody important." She scolded.
The woman stayed in the hallway at the top of the stairs, the dark-haired man was in full view to her, albeit his back from where he was hunched over his experiment.
"Why, who is it?" he asked, starting to get annoyed at all the interruptions. He was determined not to look up though.
"There's a woman here-oh what was your name again dear?"
Sherlock tuned them out entirely. He knew of nobody that could bear any great importance today.
The woman reminded Mrs Hudson of her name, who then called Sherlock's name again, but it was to be in vain. He was too engrossed in his experiment to care.
"Honestly, that man will be the death of me. I do apologise-" Mrs Hudson started to talk but the woman cut her off.
"Really it's no bother. I remember what he's like."
"Oh do you? From where?" John pitched in now, his shopping trip entirely forgotten.
"I used to share a flat with him when I was in university."
"Really? He's never mentioned you."
She smiled softly. "Of course he wouldn't. I left quite abruptly you see. I can't imagine he was overly pleased with me."
Then she stepped a little closer to the kitchen, twisting her hands together nervously.
"Sherlock?" She called.
The effect was instantaneous. He shot straight up out his seat, spinning on one heel, dropping the test tube onto the counter. It shattered, spilling red liquid everywhere. Normally, an action such as this would have prompted Mrs Hudson to scold him once more, but she and John were both too stunned by Sherlock's reaction to think of anything else.
His cheeks held a blush that was most unusual, he looked awfully flustered. He hurriedly yanked the goggles from his face, lobbing them over his shoulder, running a hand through his hair.
"Nina." He murmured, staring at her with soft eyes.
John began to think about why on earth Sherlock of all people, would give someone a nickname, this woman's name was Katerina, not Nina. But his train of thought was cut short by a small voice appearing at Katerina's elbow.
"That's my middle name! How does he know my middle name Mummy?" The three residents of Baker Street looked at the little girl in shock, who had been concealed behind her mother's back. She had a shock of black hair, framing a pale face, curls escaping from the French braid that held it back from her cheeks, and she was clutching Katerina's hand tightly.
Katerina didn't even blink. She crouched down to her height and spoke gently.
"Because he's an old friend of mine, sweetheart, and that's what he used to call me. That's where I got your middle name from." Katerina squeezed her shoulders before standing back up again, looking back at Sherlock.
But Sherlock's gaze was fixed upon her little girl. He took in her dark eyes, exactly like her mother's. Her hair must resemble her father's, he assumed, as Nina's hair was a soft, chestnut brown. For a split second, he wondered who her father was, but her lips made that thought an understatement. His eyes flashed back to Nina, who's own brown eyes were filled with tears, pleading him to understand.
"Sherlock, please." She whispered, her emotions evident. Sherlock took a moment to admire her bravery and strength for finding him here after all these years, before he crossed the kitchen in three strides, and gathering her tightly in a hug, wrapping his arms all the way around her. One hand rubbed her back, as Katerina burst into tears of relief, soaking his shirt. His other hand wound into her long wavy hair, soothing the only girl he'd ever dared to fall in love with.