Comforting

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the amazing Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffatt and of course, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. :)

Hope you enjoy! :3

Rosamund Watson's heart was beating so fast she was quite sure it would burst any time soon. She turned her head to look at the boy she was walking next to. He was texting someone on his phone, his dark blue eyes looking at the screen as his fingers typed on the keys.

Rosie sighed.

He was so… amazing. Everyone in her school liked him – he was one of the 'popular' kids, as everyone said – and he was so tall, and handsome, and he had the most stunning eyes and a beautiful smile and he was-

"Um… are you okay?"

The fifteen-year-old looked up and noticed that he was looking at her, a frown on his face and his eyebrows raised.

"What?" she asked.

"You were staring at me."

"I was? Oh. I-I'm sorry Josh, I just..."

Josh's frown deepened and he stopped walking, placing his hand on Rosie's shoulder to stop her too.

"What's wrong?"

Rosie looked at her feet and shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I just… is this a good idea?"

"How d'you mean? I'm only coming around to your house, it's no big deal."

"Yes, I know but…"

"Is this about your dad? He's seen me before. We're cool."

Rosie barely suppressed herself from rolling her eyes. Yeah, she thought, once. When you walked past our car when he came to pick me up from school.

"Trust me," she said, "my dad isn't the problem."

"Then what is?"

"Nothing. He- it's nothing. Come on," Rosie insisted. She continued to walk up the path, Josh following behind, her mind whirling with irritating thoughts. There was a problem. Of course there was. She was a Watson, after all…

Rosie had been quite surprised when Josh came up to her at lunch time, asking if she was free after school. She had nodded, feeling her cheeks growing red at the sound of her friends' hushed giggles beside her. Josh had ignored them, his own friends lingering behind him, and went on to explain that he wanted to know if they could hang out that afternoon. Rosie had felt the blush on her face growing even more as she looked into the eyes of the boy she'd had a crush on since she was eleven, and asked him if he'd like to come back to her house after school was over. Josh had happily agreed.

Rosie knew her father wouldn't be happy with the fact that she was bringing a boy home, but would nevertheless shake hands with Josh and only ask questions after he'd left. However, the problem would do the complete opposite. He'd done it before and would do it again in a heartbeat.

"This is your house?"

They had just arrived at a nice, big white house on a small street. It was beautiful, with green and blue flowerpots sat on either side of the door and lavender planted around the front garden. Rosie nodded and opened the black gate, waiting until Josh had walked through before closing it again. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and walked up the path towards the front door.

Josh frowned as he looked up, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Why," he asked, "is the knocker not straight?"

"Doesn't matter," Rosie said before pushing the front door open and walking inside. "Dad? I'm home!" she called up the stairs.

"Your dad's gone to- who's this?"

The dark-haired girl turned at the voice.

Oh God.

"Um… Uncle Sherlock, I'd like you to meet-"

"Joshua. Yes, I know his name," said the tall figure who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"How do you know my name?" Josh asked.

"It's obvious."

Rosie sighed heavily and turned to look at Josh. "Josh, this is Sherlock Holmes. You know… the so called private detective? Mr know-it-all? The high-functioning-sociopath? The-"

"Rosamund Watson."

"Sorry."

A look of realisation crossed Josh's face and he looked at Sherlock as the man walked over to them. "You're Sherlock Holmes? I had no idea you'd be here!"

"Yes, well, I am here. And you shouldn't be, so get out."

"Sherlock!" Rosie practically hissed in embarrassment.

Josh looked shocked. "What?"

"Do you think I wouldn't notice?" Sherlock said.

"Notice what?"

"The cigarettes in your rucksack?"

Josh turned his head to look over his shoulder at the red rucksack on his back, eyes slowly growing wide.

"How did you-"

"I also know that you smoke those cigarettes at least once a day, you've tried drugs and alcohol before, you've stolen from exactly five - no, six – shops, and three of those times you were caught, you bully people in and out of school, one of those people being your mother, and… hm. Does Millie Robinson know you're going to another girl's house?"

Rosie's eyes had grown wider with every word, and her head snapped to look at Josh at her uncle's last statement. The boy's face was bright red.

"Millie Robinson?" she asked.

"Oh, that's Josh's girlfriend. She goes to that other school Detective Inspector Gavin and I were investigating a murder nearby to," Sherlock said casually.

Rosie sighed. Of course. They boy she'd had a crush on for four years now had to be a horrible, mean, bullying alcoholic and druggie and… whatever the hell else Sherlock had basically called him… with a girlfriend.

Josh looked at Sherlock, red cheeks burning. "You're mad, you are," he said before turning to leave, making a disgusted face at Rosie before opening the door and walking out, slamming it behind him.

"Well," Sherlock said with a smile, "wasn't that fun?"

Rosie ignored him, dropping her bag on the floor before running up the stairs to her room. She threw herself on her bed and screamed into the pillow, tears running down her cheeks.

A few moments later, Sherlock was stood outside Rosie door. He didn't understand why this always happened. Wasn't he doing the right thing? Sending away anyone who he didn't think was good enough for Rosie? Slowly, he lifted his hand to the door and knocked.

"Daddy? Is it you? Are you home?" came a tearful voice.

"Um… no. No Rosie, it's me."

"Then go away."

Sherlock didn't. He sighed, placing his hand on the door handle and pushing it down. He walked into the room and gently shut the door behind him. The teenager was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, tear marks streaming down her cheeks from her eyes.

Slowly, he walked over to the bed and sat down.

"Are you alright?" he asked after a while.

Rosie rolled her eyes.

"I'm guessing that was a no."

The teenager sat up in bed and drew her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She sniffed, looking at her uncle with puffy red eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, no. It's okay. I understand."

Rosie managed a small smile at that. "No, you don't."

"Well, no, but-"

"Uncle Sherlock, it's fine."

Sherlock grimaced. He was horrible at this.

"I'm really not very good at this. Your father is better."

"What? Better at what? Comforting me after you drive away another friend I bring home from school?" she sighed. "Where is dad anyway?"

Sherlock tried his best to ignore that first sentence, but found that he couldn't. Was he really doing that? Kicking every one of Rosie's friends he met out of the house?

"But this Joshua was not a good influence for you. I know your father wouldn't agree with it either-"

"I asked where dad was."

"Oh. Of course. He's shopping. Asked me to come around so someone would be here when you came home from school. He doesn't like you being alone."

Rosie rolled her eyes. "I'm fifteen for God's sake. I don't need someone with me every minute of every day."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows together, his face growing serious. "Rosie," he started, "you must understand the reasons for it. When your mother died-" here the detective's breath hitched a little, the memories flooding out from the dam he had put up in his mind –"he only had you. Only you."

"And you."

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, I suppose he did. But you were the only part of Mary he had left. He became so protective over you, and still is. And I guess… I am the same way. When I see someone around you who isn't exactly… a good person… I get a little… worried. I – I do love you Rosie, and I want what's best for you. But I am sorry if it came across as me being a horrible person who doesn't want you to have any friends…"

Hearing these words, all the anger Rosie had for her uncle washed away, and she looked up at him. He was staring at his hands, which were resting in his lap, and his green-blue eyes were filled with love and protectiveness.

Smiling, she crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing happily when she felt him return the hug.

"I love you too. And I'm sorry for getting mad. Really, I am."

"Don't be. I should be sorry. Next time… I will try and – refrain myself – from deducing your friends too much."

Rosie shook her head. "No, seriously. If all the people who come back to my house are on drugs and smoking cigarettes and stealing from shops, then I want to know. Just… don't deduce them in front of them," she said with a laugh, "it's embarrassing for me."

"I embarrass you?"

"No! No, you don't. Just… only when you do your deducey thing-"

"I'm not quite sure 'deducey' is a word."

"Shut up," Rosie laughed. "I'm pretty sure the reason why I'm losing friends and dad is thinking about changing me to a different school is because the kids you do it to always seem to be the popular ones. They tell the entire school and everyone goes on about how 'Rosie Watson's uncle is a freak so she must be too' blah blah blah."

"Sorry."

"Nah. It doesn't bother me too much. I still have friends. Nice ones who you've met and deduced that they're perfectly fine for me to be around."

Both their eyes flicked up as the door to her room opened and John Watson walked in.

The doctor stopped at the door, eyes wide as he stared at the scene in front of him. "What did I miss?" he asked.

Sherlock looked at John. "I am… what's the word, Rosie?"

"Comforting?"

"Ah. I am comforting Rosie, John."

John raised an eyebrow at that. "Drive another one of her friends off again?"

Sherlock nodded and John made a face.

"What was he this time? On drugs? A smoker? Alcoholic?"

"All of those."

"Oh God. Yeah, we're definitely changing schools."

Rosie laughed and got off her bed, walking over to her father and hugging him, glad he was home.

"Will you stay for dinner Sherlock?" John asked.

"No, thank you. I have some eyeballs back at the flat that I need to experiment on."

John nodded. "Eyeballs."

"Eyeballs," Sherlock confirmed, before ruffling Rosie's hair and walking out into the hallway, making his way down the stairs. "Laters."

John rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

"He's Sherlock Holmes," Rosie said with a shrug, "what did you expect?"

So I'm done with my first Sherlock fanfiction! :D Hope you liked it! Please review, it would mean a lot. ~ Gre3nleaf