Hi there! This is my first fanfiction. I've been a lurker on the site for a long time, but this idea simply wouldn't go away after listening to, 'When Somebody Loved Me,' by Sarah McLachlan (Jessie's song from Toy Story 2). It was a songfic at first, but then I read the rules - so, instead, this is inspired by that song. It is planned to be a three-parter including this, which is more of a prologue really, to set things up to suit the song. This is set pre-series.

I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.

Here we go!

I was five. I didn't really understand why I was here, and Mummy wasn't. They'd told me that she'd had to go away for a bit, and that I had to stay with my Daddy. I was very sad, and I cried for a bit, but then I realised…

Daddy?

I'd never had a Daddy. Other children did, but Mummy hadn't ever answered my questions about why I didn't. She'd told me that it didn't matter. But there I was, in front of a door leading toward him. A strange, nice lady named Angela stood beside me holding my case, and she stepped forward to knock three times.

We didn't wait a moment before it opened, and there he was. I had to look quite far up to see his face – he was very tall. His dark hair was curly, the same shade as mine, and his eyes were blue. Mine were too, but more like Mummy's. At least, that's what she had told me. It wasn't his appearance, however, that surprised me. It was how unfriendly he looked.

I gulped.

"This is Rosemary." There, the first time I heard his voice. Low and smooth. It wasn't scary – sort of nice.

"Yes, this-"

"It wasn't a question."

Angela didn't seem to like the interruption. It did seem a bit rude. She was silent as she picked up my suitcase and handed it over to him.

"You've signed all there is to sign. She's all yours." The nice lady turned to me. "Goodbye Sweetie."

"Goodbye…" My small voice wavered under the stare I could feel as well as see when I turned back.

And then she left me alone with him, the unsmiling man who was my Daddy.

The first time that I made him smile was when I asked him to read me a bedtime story. The Three Little Pigs. Mummy used to read it to me nearly every night – it was my favourite. I plopped down onto the couch and looked at him. He was playing the violin again and didn't seem to even notice me. His eyes were closed, and he was completely absorbed in the music made from the small instrument. It was pretty, but boring. I waited for the pause that eventually came along.

"Please read to me," I asked shyly. It had only been a week, and he hadn't shown much friendliness so far. I had plenty of reason to feel insecure around him.

"I was busy composing," he huffed. "Helps me to think." I blinked, started to shrink away, when he took it from me with a sigh. "Oh, alright." I was relieved by that simple action and statement.

I wasn't too sure of whether I not I was allowed to get close. But as he read, I felt myself getting sleepy next to him. So I scooted close to Daddy for the first time, hesitantly snuggled into his side. He didn't push me away, simply paused for a moment before continuing in his calm, reassuring voice. As he read, my eyelids drooped. I wrapped an arm around his, buried my face into his sleeve.

I peeked sideways, and saw it. The small smile pushing his cheeks outward slightly. And I felt better. Maybe he wasn't such a scary monster after all. I closed my eyes.

"The End," he finished, as I slipped away.