Sherlock wobbled his head in disappointment as he disposes off yet another client who so desperately wanted Sherlock to work on his case. He had been through the narration of twenty unwittingly poor descriptions of lame events. Cutting half of them in mid of their first sentence cause they didn't seem fascinating enough to challenge his genius mind.

But the real reason was that he was distracted.. distracted by an image which clouded his mind. The more he tried to kill the image the more lively it turned. It looked like his mind palace was out of his control today. Not unusual. Its been a few months and Sherlock has been having continuous trouble focusing his mind on a particular case.

Sherlock had tried explaining John about the changes.

Sherlock was trying hard to convey his feelings in the form of words. He might be ranter when it came to explain concepts of logical reasoning. But he had the vocabulary of a kid when it came to discussing his feelings. While Sherlock miserably mumbled about the state of events John's lips curled into a satisfying smile. He had never seen his best friend in such a miserable state. And all because of a girl.

"Finally someone could keep you you sane, huh?"

John left Sherlock at that. He was happy that Sherlock turning social instead of being the high functioning sociopathetic snob that he was.

It seemed as though someone now held the key to enter his secured mind-palace. The first time she barged in.. he had to make sure everything was in place and that he kept his composure. It was not just the mind-palace that was unlocked, his heart too was unbolted.. the mass of muscles that he proclaimed was meant to beat, only to keep a person alive had now turned into a jar.. a jar which was surprisingly a non empty collection of emotions.

He was to meet Molly at five that evening. Spending time with Sherlock these days was not a unbearable pain, when compared to all the struggling encounters that Molly had with him in the morgue a few months ago.

Molly dressed herself in casual jeans and a maroon turtleneck. She dabbed a light shade of maroon lipstick onto her lips knowing that Sherlock wouldn't notice. She didn't mind him not noticing. She might have thought things were wrong if he noticed. With a start she realized the purpose of their meeting.

He was to buy a present for a girl. A girl whom Sherlock adored and loved more than John or Mary or the violin.

A girl for whom Sherlock was ready to give up his life.

Two days back when Sherlock had called Molly instead of paging or messaging her she sensed something amiss. From the phone sounded a voice deliberately annoyed. It was Mary. Mary had rejected Sherlocks selected gifts for the thirty seventh time. Even if Sherlock was not losing his cool Mary sure was.. Molly was cajoled to help him out as Mary would approve of nothing that he chose. Mary was not to be blamed. Sherlock didn't posses the quality essential to select a pleasing gift.

Sherlly was her name. Sherlock had spent days and nights with her.. keeping her safe,sound, engaged and asleep while John and Mary were away.

She had the exact same hair as her mother. Her smile was a blend of her parents. Her emerald green eyes though resembled Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock was beaming when he noticed that Sherlly didn't inherit John's nose.

A lifetime ago he would rather spend a night in the morgue than the prospective of staying awake looking after a little infant. It was unlike Sherlock.

Its amazing how innocent giggles, untimely cries and diaper changes can transform a high functioning sociopath into a person.

Sherlly was John and Mary's daughter.