A booming knock filled the flat. The violin screeched as the bow was dropped to the ground.

Sherlock picked up the bow from the ground and set it carefully in its case, violin at its side.

The flat shook once more with knocking.

The detective walked down to the door. Unlocking it and swinging it open, what he saw wasn't pleasant.

Irene stood at the door, a girl at her side. She looked smugly at Sherlock.

"The time has come. It's your turn."

Irene nudged the girl towards Sherlock, and set a purple suitcase down next to her.

Lucy May. The tag read.

"She's 8 now. Birthday is May 1. Hence her middle name." She was keeping her sentences short and sweet. Lacking on the sweet. "Here's a paper I wrote up, simple stuff you should know. I'll pick her up in a month."

She shoved a envelope into his hand. Sherlock stood there, mouth agape.

"You d-don't mean she's. . . mine now?"

"You see, I adopted her from a society a while back. Renamed her and stuff." She waved at the air like adopting a child was something a person did every other normal day. "But she wasn't what I thought. She's like you. I thought, you of all people, The Virgin" she sneered, "Would be able to watch a girl like her."

Before he could reply, she pushed the girl and suitcase into the doorway.

"Goodbye sweetheart! Have fun with 'daddy'!" Irene blew a kiss at the girl and got into the cab. It sped away, leaving Sherlock staring shocked at the girl at his feet.

…..

Sherlock didn't know what to do.

The girl, Lucy, was sitting on the couch playing with her teddy bear.

Sherlock looked at the envelope and carefully started to pull away the seam. Inside was a thick wad of paper. He pulled it out and started reading.

It was just her birth certificate.

Her name had been Kate Rose Hamiliton.

Sherlock once more looked at the girl. She shared some striking similarities with the man, the grey eyes as cold as his. Her hair however, was a deep brown. It went down to about her shoulders, and in ringlets it sat. A small nose accompanied a pair of perfect rosy lips.

She was, after all, a pretty child.

Lucy sensed that the man was looking at her. She set the bear down in her lap and stared him straight in the face.

"I'm Gwen. Are you my daddy?"

The detective didn't know how to respond. "Um. Well, you see-"

The flat door burst open.

John looked at the girl, then back at Sherlock.

"What on earth did you do now?!"

Lucy perked up.

"My name is Lucy May Adler!"