Doctor Watson arrived at the apartment with his wife, Mary. Once they had recovered from the shock of Crina's parentage, Doctor Watson began to examine her under Sherlock's orders. He checked her temperature, her ears, her nose, her throat, her reflexes, and her heart. Once he was finished, he placed his tools back into his bag.

"Mary, will you sit with her? I need to speak to Holmes alone." Doctor Watson said.

"Of course, darling."

Once Doctor Watson had stood, Mary placed Crina in her lap and began to play with her. Doctor Watson and Sherlock went to the latter's bedroom, and made sure the door was shut.

"Well, is she healthy?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, she is. Her throat seems to have suffered an infection, but it seems she has recovered."

Sherlock nodded. "Good."

Doctor Watson cleared his throat and folded his arms. The only Sherlock could do was shrug in response.

"Does something trouble you, Watson?"

"Of course I am troubled, Holmes!" Doctor Watson raised his voice, but quieted down shortly after. "Is she really your daughter? Yours and Simza's?"

"Here is the letter." Sherlock took the letter from his pocket and handed to Doctor Watson. "That is Simza's handwriting, Watson. I've no doubt."

After studying the letter, Doctor Watson laid it on a nearby table and sighed deeply.

"It's still only a claim. Besides, you and Simza never had reached that level of intimacy...The idea is absurd."

When Sherlock did not speak, Doctor Watson knew that his friend of many years was hiding something from him.

"Holmes, you and Simza had never...?"

Sherlock nodded. "We had, Watson. It was a moment of madness, and she had needed comfort. She had begun to assume the worst about her brother and I lost my head."

Doctor Watson rolled his eyes. "I can see that."

Sherlock collapsed into a chair and buried his face in one of his hands. "What shall I do, Watson? How could I raise a child?"

"Perhaps, it would be best to start from the beginning." Doctor Watson pulled up a chair and sat across from Sherlock. "Tell me, Holmes: What happened that night between you and Simza?"

Sherlock slept soundly inside of Simza's caravan. The music from outside had excited the Gypsies and even Watson, but it had only managed to put the detective to sleep. Often a light sleeper, he was awakened when he heard a noise. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Simza was setting a chair back on its legs.

"Simza?" Sherlock said and the Gypsy looked up at him. "What happened?"

"I didn't mean to wake you, Mr. Holmes. I tripped when I came in. Please, you must sleep if we are to leave at dawn."

Sherlock nodded and began to fall back asleep. It was only when he saw Simza sitting on her bed, with tears running down her face, that an urge to comfort her suddenly came. He rose from where he rested and approached Simza.

"Madame Simza?"

Simza sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "I am sorry for crying. You must think I'm weak."

"Quite the contrary, I find you to be strong. If one is able to express their emotions freely, then they show they are strong. By putting on a front, one proves they are weak, because they are afraid."

Simza looked up at Sherlock, her eyes red from her tears. "Do you speak from experience, Mr. Holmes?"

"I do, Madame Simza." Sherlock said quietly, allowing his mind to recall the recently deceased Irene Adler.

"I know my brother is not dead. He is strong. Wherever he is, he's alive. He must be."

When it seemed Simza was about to cry again, Sherlock reacted quickly and sat beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder. The gesture seemed to surprise her, but she kept quiet.

"I cannot speak for you, Madame Simza, but I have a brother myself. We've never been close, but if he were to go missing, I suspect that I would be mad with worry."

Hearing this, Simza managed a smile. "You are a very private man, Mr. Holmes. Why tell me this?"

"To bring you comfort." Sherlock said simply.

For awhile, the two said nothing, only looked at each other. Then, to his own surprise, Sherlock drew closer to Simza and kissed on the lips. Realizing what he had done, he pulled away from Simza.

"Madame Simza, I apologize."

Simza touched Sherlock's face with her hand and brought her eyes to meet his again. It was then that Simza began to kiss Holmes, long and hard. This time, they did not break apart. Soon, they had begun to strip each other of their clothes until there was nothing left but bare flesh. Once Simza laid underneath Sherlock, they broke apart and realized what was about to occur.

"Have you done this, Mr. Holmes?" Simza asked.

Sherlock swallowed and nodded. "Once. And yourself?"

Simza smiled. "Once."

"I do apologize if I hurt you.."

"Look down, Sherlock."

So, Sherlock did. She was wet. Very wet. Sherlock looked back up at Simza, who was still smiling.

"If you hurt me. I will not care. I won't even notice."

That was all the invitation that was needed for Sherlock. No longer hesitant, he entered Simza who bit back a moan. Deeper he went, until it happened; inside of Simza, Sherlock reached his orgasm and he was not as quiet as Simza. He gave a loud groan and began to thrust back and forth, with Simza joining in. Though because Sherlock was moving around, he was not able to feel Simza's climax, but it was evident when her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

So, for an hour or two, they stayed inside each other. Thrusting and thrashing like wild animals, but never daring to exit one another. At the end, they were both damped with perspiration and Sherlock was left with the physical proof of their seduction: A set of fingernail scratches that ran down his back.

"My compliments." Sherlock said, catching his breath.

"Believe me, Sherlock, I am not the one that deserves praise."

Simza laid her head on Sherlock's chest and rested her leg over his legs. "We will find my brother now. When we do, we will be married."

Sherlock didn't say anything, only ran his fingers through Simza's dark hair. This worried Simza and she looked up at him.

"Have I said something wrong?" Simza asked.

Sherlock sighed. "Simza, this has been the most extraordinary night in my entire life. Though you must understand our places."

"Our places?" Simza repeated.

"I cannot marry you, Simza. Even if I did wish to, I couldn't. By birth, you're a Gypsy, and by birth I am an Englishman. I could not put you through the torment of scandal."

Simza turned onto her side, away from Sherlock. "So then, we forget this happened."

Sherlock scooted closer to Simza and draped his arm across her bare breasts. "We have no choice."

"I had to protect her, Watson. I thought nothing would come of it." Sherlock said.

"Something has, Holmes. A child. Your daughter."

Sherlock suddenly seemed stricken with an idea. "Watson, you and your wife can care for Crina. She would be much happier."

Doctor Watson shook his head."Holmes, we cannot do that. What with John about to turn 2, Mary couldn't handle another child at the moment."

"Then what of Mrs. Hudson? She is a widow and has a love of children."

"And you would place your responsibility on her?"

"There is no other choice."

"There is a choice, Holmes. You could stop being a selfish ass and raise Crina as Simza had hoped."

Doctor Watson stood and left Sherlock alone. Alone with what was the most largest decision of his life.