"Daddy!"

It was a word John had never, even in his short acquaintance with Sherlock Holmes, ever anticipated to hear him called.

But there was a smile incipient in the voice and, as they turned to meet it, John saw something else he had never, in his short acquaintance with Sherlock Holmes, expected to see:

A very affectionate smile stealing over his face and reaching all the way up to his clear blue eyes.

The attractive young girl from whom the hithertofore unexpected expression had emerged was striding down the station platform at King's Cross towards them, dragging a large suitcase and beaming. She appeared an elegant fifteen, wearing a short brown and green plaid skirt underneath a chocolate cardigan with her school's emblem monogrammed on her left breast. Her long brown hair was tied into a thick braid which fell over a shoulder and her blue-grey eyes sparkled with warmth as she levelled them directly at her father.

Sherlock has a daughter?!

John was still struggling to assimilate this fact as the girl, paying absolutely no attention to him, neared them, abandoned her luggage and rushed forward to enfold his flatmate in a loving hug.

A hug which was just as warmly returned.

"There she is! Welcome home, darling. How was term?"

"Elementary. As always."

The casually flippant roll of the eyes was all too familiar to John. He tried to muster a smile out of his shock as the duo turned anticipatorily towards him.

"I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, darling. This is Dr. John Watson, recently returned from Afghanistan. We're sharing new rooms now, at Baker Street."

The girl accepted John's outstretched hand with a disarming smile.

"Daddy, what did you do to trap him into living with you? You must know he's a nightmare. That's why I ran away to boarding school!"

Sherlock regarded his daughter with a look of gentle reproof.

"No. It was to get away from your mother. Not me."

"Both of you! And her boyfriends!"

John watched them banter, still wondering if it was all a trick.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, love?"

The girl's eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Jacqueline Elizabeth. My mother was far too pretentious and named me after the late American First Lady and Her Majesty! I usually go by a much more straight-forward Jackie."

John nodded.

"Very pleased to meet you, Jackie. Your...er, father has told me absolutely nothing about you."

Young Jackie's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Just popped me onto you, did he? I wonder why... Daddy? Thoughts?"

They both waited for Sherlock's reaction although he seemed to be momentarily engaged in following the course of another gentleman who was studying a piece of paper in his hands and anxiously checking the departures board.

"Hmmm? Oh nothing. The subject simply never came up. That man... I'm wondering as to whether I should alert the authorities to him. He's flown in from Sao Paolo and taken the train from Gatwick. He's uncommonly nervous and he's headed to Amsterdam. I'm pretty sure he's got either cocaine or heroin hidden in a false bottom of his suitcase..."

Meeting the quizzical stares of his two companions, he huffed slightly.

"Expensive watch, but cheap overcoat. Carrying only one piece of luggage, and that too, abnormally big. His hair has been dyed, recently and carelessly, and

the only timing on that board which has been delayed is the Eurolines to Amsterdam. Suspicious behaviour much?"

Jackie pursed her lips.

"No! Not enough to arrest a man on."

"I'm pretty sure."

"One day you'll be wrong and I won't have a likely innocent man harrassed on one of your conjectures."

"John has far more faith in me than you do."

"I know you for far longer than he does."

"I'm most probably right."

"You most probably are. But I've just got home for the holidays and I refuse to be dragged around police stations while you condescend to explain to them what they've obviously missed. Another few kilos of smack making their way onto the Continent via our fair city is not going to plunge our world into any further chaos than it's already in whereas I very well might plunge your life into chaos if we don't take a cab home straight away and call for some lunch."

Her logic was indefatigable and John saw Sherlock dither.

"Daddy. Narcotics isn't your department. Murder is. The day you pass a man with blood seeping out of his pocket from a hurriedly stashed knife, you have my blessings to call in the cavalry."

Sherlock sighed and caved. John wouldn't have sworn to it, but he felt Jackie had played her cards of filial influence well.

He grabbed the stroller handle as they turned towards the exit and felt Jackie touch his arm.

"I'm the normal one in the family, but trust me. They need us around far more than they're willing to admit. I'm glad you've agreed to move in with him, Dr. Watson. I think it's going to be good for him."

John regarded the young woman appraisingly. He was beginning to like her and she had already proved herself far wiser then her years would otherwise suggest. He wondered what this relationship would turn out to be like.