Disclaimer: Nothing of Sherlock Holmes belongs to me. Written for fun.


A/N: I've been trying to write this for a little while, so we'll just see how it goes. Also sorry for the bad summary. I really need to try and improve those.


Scarlett

On an overcast and cloudy day, there was an unexpected knock at the front door of 221B Baker Street. As the landlady, Mrs. Hudson opened the door; she stared down at the young woman who stood tall on the doorstep, clutching an old and a faded handkerchief in one hand and a tall black umbrella in the other.

Her dark hair cascaded down past her shoulders fluidly, reminding a person of silky water. Her dark eyes betrayed a curiosity and her clean, pale skin seemed flawless and delicate. The corners of her pale pink lips turned upwards into a shy smile as she looked at the woman before her. Mrs. Hudson returned the smile.

"Hello, dear, can I help you?"

"I hope so," the young woman replied. "I wondered if a Dr. Watson or Mr. Holmes is currently in and available."

"Yes, I believe both of them are home right now," Mrs. Hudson replied. "Which of them would you prefer to see?"

The young woman bit her bottom lip almost nervously as she thought about it. Truthfully, she didn't know either man at all but she decided to go with the one she had actually come to see. "I shall like to speak with Mr. Holmes, please," she eventually answered politely.

Mrs. Hudson took a step back and invited the young woman in. Taking her coat, she placed it on the rack that stood in the corner beside the door and soon had her umbrella join it. The older woman turned to her again.

"May I ask who you are?"

"Oh, forgive me. My name is Scarlett Holmes," the young woman answered, with an embarrassed smile. Mrs. Hudson gave a great look of surprise and part of her hoped the surname was nothing more than a coincidence. "And you...?"

"Mrs. Hudson," she replied quickly, shaking the girls hand lightly. "I'm the landlady. Both Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes are tenants. Please, follow me."

"Thank you."

Scarlett followed the landlady up a flight of seventeen stairs and they came to a quick stop outside of two doors. Turning to the one beside the staircase, Mrs. Hudson knocked firmly, but there was no answer.

"Mr. Holmes?" she questioned in a loud but polite voice. "You have a visitor."

There was almost an immediate reply. The voice was hard and quite harsh. "Send them away!" said the man within the closed off room. "I am not seeing any clients today."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head irritably and turned the brass knob. The door was unlocked. Poking her head around, she quickly spotted Holmes; sitting upon the floor, looking idly through a newspaper that seemed to be several days old. She entered without given expressed permission and faced her tenant.

"Mr. Holmes, there is a young lady here to see you," Mrs. Hudson said, her voice going softer with each word. "I do believe this will interest you."

Mrs. Hudson motioned for the girl to enter and at seeing Holmes for the first time, she smiled faintly. He took no notice, making Mrs. Hudson clear her throat loudly to get his attention. At seeing the young woman, Holmes seemed to stop mid-thought. His interest seemed to have peaked slightly. His eyes narrowed as they looked over her distrustfully. Without saying another word, Mrs. Hudson decided to leave them be.

Just as she reached the bottom of the staircase, a sound started behind her and at the top of the stairs stood Dr. Watson, a noticeable frown present on his face. She hurried back up but stopped half way and pointed towards Holmes' rooms and whispered to him, earnestly.

"You may want to join them."

"Them?" Watson asked quickly, clearly confused.

"Holmes and a visitor who happens to share his surname. I don't think I want to be in that room but I do pray she isn't his daughter," Mrs. Hudson said in a hushed voice.

"I'm sure you're mistaken," Watson said, not believing her words. "But I shall keep an eye on him."

With a nod of her head, Mrs. Hudson returned to her duties she had been attending to before the knock at the door had interrupted and she left the three people upstairs to sort things out.

Upstairs, Watson entered Holmes' room without knocking and instantly, he noticed the young woman. He wasn't sure he believed her claims but she did have a right to speak her mind. Holmes was on his feet and appeared shaken and a little angry. It seems words had already been spoken. He turned to the window, putting his back to the woman and Watson.

"I have no children," the detective spat. "It's not possible."

"But I am here," Scarlett said quickly. "I tell you no lies, sir. I am proof-"

"No, you are not," Holmes said sharply, turning to face the woman again. "I care not for the lies you have been told. Leave my presence this instant."

Slowly, Scarlett nodded her head and tears welled up in her eyes, stinging them greatly but Holmes noticed nothing. He went back to the paper that he had had his interest in previously and ignored the people still near him. Watson couldn't help but noticed the tears that Scarlett seemed determined not to shed. She licked her shakily lips and spoke evenly, despite how she felt.

"I apologise, Mr. Holmes, for interrupting. Good-day."

She turned sharply on her heeled boots and left the room. When the footsteps had turned faint, Watson held his chin out defiantly as he looked down at his friend on the floor who still seemed engrossed by something.

"There was no need for that, Holmes," said Watson, opting to choose his words wisely.

"She's a liar," Holmes spat, not looking up from the paper.

"You have no proof of that," Watson retorted quickly. "There was no need to speak to her the way you did." Watson walked to the door but paused for a moment to say one last thing. "If you bothered to notice, she has some of your features; in particular, your eyes."

Watson left the room just as promptly as Scarlett had done, leaving Holmes be. Leaving the house quicker than he thought he possibly could, he glanced up and down the street, looking for a glimpse of the woman that had just left. Seeing her after a few moments, he quickly went after her.

"Miss. Holmes?"

Despite the voice in her head that told her to keep walking, Scarlett slowed and eventually came to a stop before turning around. She watched as Watson hurried towards her. As he also came to a stop, he seemed slightly out of breath. He looked down at her gently and spoke in a soft tone.

"I do apologise for my friend's brash tone and behaviour," Watson said breathlessly. "He normally isn't so callous."

"No apology is necessary, Dr. Watson," Scarlett said, looking back at him. She found his light blue eyes quite endearing. "It went differently in my head when I pictured it but I do realise it could still have been worse. Even though it was informally, it was a pleasure to meet you. Have a nice day, Dr. Watson."

She turned to leave but stopped as she felt a slight tug of her sleeve. At seeing Watson's hand upon her she gave him a look of surprise. Removing his hand quickly, he muttered another apology and spoke quickly to avoid an awkward situation.

"Miss Holmes, for some reason I am inclined to believe you when you say that you are Sherlock's daughter. Please, give him a few days to calm down and we shall meet again. Would that be suitable?"

Scarlett thought it through for a moment. She had to admit the offer was tempting. She wanted to know more about the man that seemed to have captured her mother's affection although she had never been able to keep it. She sighed lightly before nodding a couple of times.

"Yes, that would be more than suitable," she said softly. "I am staying at the Grand Hotel, room twenty-four."

Watson tipped his hat to her and she gave a small nod of her head before turning to leave. Once she disappeared from sight, Watson went back home. He needed to speak to his old friend and explain why this meeting was necessary.