2.
Baby mine, don't you cry, baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my hear, never to part, baby of mine
- Baby Mine, Dumbo
"He's here, he's here!"
Throwing the clothes she was holding in her arms down, Elspeth hurtled down the stairs and into the front door, struggling to reach the lock. Dawn, who had been packing with her, followed Elspeth downstairs and opened the door for her.
"You're here!" Elspeth cried at Sherlock. He frowned back.
"Yes, I'm here," he said uncertainly. Dawn laughed.
"She's been excited all morning," she explained to Sherlock. "All week, in fact. We were just packing her clothes actually."
That clarified why Elspeth was so ecstatic to see him. Dawn managed to detach her from Sherlock's arm, which she'd been hanging off rather insistently, and sent her upstairs to finish off her packing. Elspeth, eager to leave, ran upstairs to her room while Dawn and Sherlock waited patiently in the office. When they heard the thud of Elspeth's bag landing at the bottom of the stairs, Dawn shook her head and Sherlock couldn't help but smile, feeling a little nervous. He never thought that the day Elspeth moved in with him would come so soon.
"Be good for your dad, alright?" Dawn said to Elspeth, kneeling down to her level. "Come on, give me a hug." She hugged Elspeth tightly and tucked the young girl's hair behind her ears, smiling fondly. "If you have any problems or questions, ring me – at any time," Dawn said to Sherlock. "I know how daunting this must be for you."
Sherlock nodded and thanked Dawn, picking Elspeth's bag up. It was lighter than he expected; Elspeth didn't have a lot of belongings.
"Let's go," he said to Elspeth, who was practically bouncing from excitement. She grinned at Dawn and said a final goodbye before grabbing hold of Sherlock's hand as they left the home. He looked down at her in surprise. He didn't pull away.
"Where are we going?" Elspeth asked.
"Home."
"Is it my home now?"
Sherlock frowned, glancing down at her. "Yes," he said. He wasn't certain why Elspeth had to ask that. She seemed so excited that he added, "You have your own room as well." He'd spent ages preparing the spare bedroom; Sherlock bought her a new bed and other bits of furniture, unsure of what she would like but going with what the shop assistant had recommended. Sherlock tried not to go overboard on the pink though. That was enough to drive anyone crazy.
Elspeth grinned at the thought of her own room. She'd had a room in the home but it was small and plain and she wasn't allowed to decorate it. But now she had a bedroom that was all her own. She grinned up at Sherlock, and she didn't stop for the entire journey.
Home was small, dark, and filled with belongings; there were a lot of books on the shelves, with hard covers and writing too little for Elspeth to read properly. Dirty dishes were piled up in or next to the sink, but there weren't that many because Sherlock didn't eat frequently, and equipment – beakers, a microscope, test tubes with brightly coloured liquid that Sherlock swept away before Elspeth could take a closer look – was piled up on the dining table.
"Your room is down here," Sherlock told her, taking Elspeth's bag and leading her down the corridor. Elspeth trailed after him. "What do you think?"
Elspeth took everything in. She looked at the colourful duvet on the bed, then the flowery lamp on her bedside table and the fairy lights that Sherlock had trailed over her doorway just to make the room a little nicer for her. There were some age appropriate books on her bookshelf and soft cushions on her bed, and despite the plain white walls, it was the nicest room Elspeth had ever had.
"It's amazing!" she said truthfully, beaming up at Sherlock and holding her arms out. It took Sherlock a second to realise that she wanted a hug.
"Oh – er . . ." He knelt in front of her awkwardly, patting Elspeth on the back when she hugged him. He still wasn't used to Elspeth's physical displays of affection.
Sherlock stood up but Elspeth, giggling hysterically, had wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him with her arms hooked around Sherlock's neck. He tried to detach her but Elspeth was stubborn and no matter how hard she laughed, her grip wouldn't loosen on Sherlock. Sighing, Sherlock wrapped his arms around her so she wouldn't fall if she let go suddenly and carried her down the corridor.
"I'm hungry," Elspeth announced, her head resting on Sherlock's shoulder. He glanced at the clock and Elspeth started to play with Sherlock's hair, asking, "Can I have a biscuit?"
"One."
"Two," Elspeth bargained.
"One," Sherlock insisted firmly. He carried Elspeth through to the kitchen and deposited her on the counter, her legs hanging over the edge. Sherlock gave her a stern look when she began to fidget. "Sit still or you can sit on the floor." Elspeth was still. "One biscuit, and you can have fish fingers for dinner."
He didn't even know if Elspeth liked fish fingers. Her face lit up when he mentioned them though.
"And chips!"
Sherlock opened the freezer, taking out the fish fingers and screwing his nose up. "I have waffles," he said. Elspeth didn't look very happy but accepted the substitute with a shrug, swinging her legs so her heels bashed against the counter. Sherlock glared at her over his shoulder.
"Don't do that," he said to her.
"Why?"
"Because it's annoying."
"Loads of things are annoying," Elspeth said, watching Sherlock turn on the oven and open the box of fish fingers. "Like not getting biscuits." It wasn't exactly a subtle hint but Elspeth got what she wanted, grinning as she nibbled on the biscuit Sherlock handed to her while he struggled to make dinner for them both. He didn't eat that often and when he did, it was usually take aways because then Sherlock could simply dispose of the packaging. But cooking seemed simple enough.
"It won't be long," Sherlock said. "Go . . . sit at the table."
"But there's lots of stuff on it," Elspeth pointed out. Sherlock glanced at the mess on the table and huffed. He couldn't move any of it because there was nowhere to keep it all.
"Fine, you can have dinner in front of the TV," he said in defeat. He'd only had Elspeth for a short time and yet he was already exhausted by her. Elspeth lifted her arms and Sherlock picked her up, holding her away from him as he placed her on the floor so she couldn't attach herself to him a second time. Once on her feet, Elspeth darted across the room and turned on the TV before struggling to climb onto the sofa. It only took a few attempts before she managed it. Sherlock smiled.
It didn't take long to make dinner; the edges of the fish fingers were a little burned but Sherlock scraped those bits off before handing the plate to Elspeth. She looked up at him uncertainly.
"What?"
"I need help cutting it."
Sherlock sighed and cut Elspeth's dinner up in bite sized portions for her, receiving a very sweet thank you from Elspeth in response. She ate quietly then and Sherlock glanced at her every so often. This was it; his daughter was living with him. And she was so small and delicate and quiet, her short legs barely reaching the edge of the sofa. Sherlock still couldn't believe it.
They finished dinner and watched TV for a while together, and Sherlock didn't pull away when Elspeth leaned against him.
"Bed time," Sherlock announced when it got late – later than Elspeth should've been up.
"No!" Elspeth wailed. She was struggling to keep her eyes open and no matter how hard she tried, Elspeth couldn't suppress her yawns. But she remained stubborn. "I'm not tired!"
Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her, standing up, and Elspeth glowered back at him as she crossed her arms. When he realised she wasn't going to move, no matter how many times he told her it was time for bed, Sherlock scooped Elspeth up in his arms and carried her through to the bathroom.
Elspeth was even more difficult in her sleepy state. She refused to let Sherlock brush her teeth and wriggled away when he washed her face with a flannel. Elspeth whined even more when Sherlock brushed her hair.
"Bed." Elspeth glared at him and Sherlock glared back. "Bed," he repeated firmly.
Turning around, Elspeth marched into her bedroom with Sherlock following close behind. They hadn't unpacked her bag yet – Sherlock said they could do it in the morning – so Elspeth had to sit and wait patiently while he dug through her belongings for her pyjamas. He handed them to her.
"Wait," Elspeth said when Sherlock turned to leave.
"What now?"
Elspeth shuffled, holding the pyjamas close. "I need help," she mumbled with her head ducked so her chin pressed against her chest. "Please."
Sherlock was a cold man, but he was not a cruel one. He shut the door again and sat down in front of Elspeth, gesturing for her to come closer. She grinned. Sherlock took the pyjamas from her, lying them on the floor next to him, and gave her an expectant look.
"Arms up," he ordered. Elspeth lifted her arms and Sherlock helped her out of her shirt. She laughed when he tickled her by accident. "Keep them up," he added, noticing Elspeth's arms started to drop. Sherlock pulled her pyjama shirt on over her head, holding out the sleeves so she could slide her arms in, and then undid her jeans so Elspeth could wriggle out of them.
Sherlock frowned when he looked at the indents and marks the jeans had left behind on Elspeth's waist. He ran his fingers along some of them, making Elspeth giggle again. Sherlock didn't smile.
Checking her shirt, Sherlock realised it had been stretched. It wouldn't have fit her otherwise.
He held her pyjama trousers out for her. Elspeth clung onto Sherlock's shoulders as she stepped into them and Sherlock pulled them up, tugging her shirt down a little.
"There. All ready for bed."
Elspeth hugged Sherlock – she really liked hugs – and he lifted her onto the bed, pulling the duvet up. She wriggled about for a few seconds, nestling herself into the covers, and rolled onto her side with her head on the pillow. Elspeth gazed up at Sherlock for a few seconds.
"Are you going to read to me?"
"No. Go to sleep." Sherlock strode out of the room before Elspeth could protest and shut the door behind him. He knew that he'd only get halfway through the book before Elspeth fell asleep. It was a waste of time.
Hours passed and Sherlock didn't sleep, stretched out across the sofa with a nicotine patch on his arm – he longed for a proper cigarette – and listened to the stillness of the flat, his eyes flickering shut. Sherlock opened them at the sound of footsteps and turned his head to the side, frowning at Elspeth. She stood by the sofa, shaking and teary eyed, her face pale. Sherlock's eyes flickered up to the clock. She'd only been asleep a few hours.
"What?"
Elspeth mumbled something, her voice too low for Sherlock to hear, and he sat up with an impatient sigh.
"I can't understand you when you mumble," he told her. "What's wrong?"
"I had a nightmare."
Her voice was still soft but shaking, and Sherlock saw that Elspeth was obviously upset by the nightmare. There was no point in explaining the reasons behind nightmares – Sherlock read about them when he was young – and when Elspeth lifted her arms, he knew he had no other choice than to try and comfort her.
Picking her up, Sherlock held Elspeth awkwardly on his lap. She shifted and wriggled and made herself comfortable, burying her face into his chest and clutching the front of his shirt. Sherlock rested his chin on the top of her head and rubbed a hand up and down her back, remembering that was how his mother used to do when he was young.
"I was scared," Elspeth murmured.
"Don't be," Sherlock said. Elspeth kept shaking so he held her closer to his chest.
They sat for a few minutes in silence; Sherlock hugged Elspeth while she calmed down, a few stray tears trickling down her cheeks and onto Sherlock's shirt. He ignored the damp feeling.
When Elspeth was calmer, Sherlock patted her on the back and announced, "You ought to get back into bed."
Elspeth's grip on his shirt tightened. "Don't leave me," she pleaded with an anxious look in her eyes, craning her head back to stare at him. She was terrified to be alone and Sherlock found that he didn't want to let her go.
"I won't," he promised. Sherlock thought back to Elspeth's earlier request and grimaced. "Do you still want me to read to you?"
Elspeth nodded silently against his chest.
Shifting her so he could stand up, Sherlock carried Elspeth back to her room, turning on the light as he walked in. She picked out a book and curled up in bed when Sherlock put her down, tugging on his sleeve.
"You have to sit down with me," Elspeth insisted. It was becoming increasingly harder for Sherlock to say no to every one of her requests; he sat down on the edge of her bed, and when Elspeth tugged on his sleeve a second time, Sherlock leaned back and stretched his legs out in front him, sitting on the bed next to her. It took Elspeth a few seconds more to get comfortable because she wanted to lean against Sherlock while he read to her but it was difficult, so in the end, Elspeth climbed onto Sherlock's lap.
"Er –" Sherlock stammered, uncertain of how to react. Elspeth leaned with her back against his chest and opened the book for him, gently nudging his arm.
"You have to read," she reminded him.
Sherlock nodded, focused on the page, and started to read. It was a ludicrous tale about a woman who was sent into the woods with a huntsman – Sherlock half muttered the bit about the man raising his dagger, ready to cut out the young woman's heart, because he didn't want to scare Elspeth even more – and ended up in a cottage with seven dwarves. Sherlock had never been one for fairy tales but Elspeth seemed to love it.
"Another one," Elspeth insisted, looking up at Sherlock with a wide grin. She was over her nightmare then.
Sherlock frowned. "It's getting late," he began, stopping when Elspeth's bottom lip trembled slightly and she began to bat her long eyelashes at him. Sherlock stared at her. He was used to manipulating people, usually clients or witnesses, into talking . . . but witnessing it first hand, from a child . . . that was new.
How did she do that?
"What book do you want to read next?" Sherlock found himself asking, followed by a surge of disbelief. He was going to have to learn to be a bit sterner with Elspeth.
"Tell me a story," Elspeth said, nestling into his chest again with a content smile. "A detective story."
Sherlock sighed, racked his brain, and began like the story he'd read. "Once upon a time there was a detective –"
"And he had a daughter," Elspeth interrupted.
"I can't tell you a story if you keep interrupting me," Sherlock reminded her. Elspeth giggled and pressed her finger to her mouth, promising she would try to keep quiet. He started again. "Once upon a time there was a detective and his daughter, and one day they were working on the case of . . ." his voice trailed off uncertainly. Sherlock thought about several of the most recent cases he'd dealt with.
"The missing diamonds," Elspeth supplied. She'd forgotten her promise not to interrupt but was playing with the buttons of Sherlock's shirt, so she didn't notice the look he gave her.
"The case of the missing diamonds," he said in agreement. "A client called –"
"What's a client?"
"Someone who comes to see me when they have a case," Sherlock explained.
"Was she pretty?" Elspeth asked. Sherlock frowned at her. "The client? Was she pretty?"
Apparently the client was a woman. "Yes," Sherlock said without thought; he'd never been one to notice or judge external attractiveness of his clients. In fact, he barely noticed. "She was."
"Her name was Rose," Elspeth decided. "And we're the detective and his daughter."
"I thought I was telling you the story," Sherlock said with a grin, digging his finger into her side and making her giggle, squirming away. He didn't mind really. "Once upon a time –"
"You've already done this bit."
"Rose came to the detective and his daughter, and she told them about her missing diamonds that had been stolen during a dinner party the previous week. There were four suspects – people who may have stolen them," Sherlock added hastily when he saw the small crease in Elspeth's forehead.
"One of them was the butler," she said. "There's always a butler."
"The other three were business associates, and they all had a motive," Sherlock said, then paused to explain what a motive was. "A reason to steal the diamonds." Elspeth nodded and waited for Sherlock to continue the story. He made up motives on the spot before carrying on. "So the detective suggested that she recreate the dinner party."
"And the detective and his daughter went," Elspeth took over. "The detective was staring at everybody –"
"I don't stare," Sherlock muttered.
"Shush, I'm getting to the good bit! The detective was staring at everybody because he wanted to know who stole the diamonds –" Elspeth patted Sherlock on the hand. "Your turn."
"While his daughter crawled under the table, undercover –"
"Like a spy!"
"Like a spy," Sherlock agreed. He knew that when included in a story, children generally liked to be the hero, and he kept that in mind as he spoke. "His daughter crawled under the table and checked everybody's pockets because they didn't know she was there."
"Did she find the diamonds?"
"No –" Elspeth's face dropped. "But she did find a business card of a local pawn shop in the butler's pocket –"
"I knew it was the butler!" Elspeth cried excitedly. She probably didn't but Sherlock let her say she did.
"And when they all went to the shop, Rose's diamonds were on display. The butler resented her for bossing him around so much with little pay that he stole her diamonds in revenge and pocketed the money," Sherlock concluded. "The diamonds were returned to their rightful owner and the butler was arrested for theft."
"Did he go to prison?" Elspeth asked. She sounded sleepy. "That's where all the bad guys go."
"Yes, he went to prison."
"And the detective and his daughter lived happily ever after." Elspeth yawned. "I'm a bit tired now," she admitted, leaning against Sherlock. He gently manoeuvred her onto the bed, pulling the duvet up to her shoulders, and Elspeth held her arms out for a hug. "Night night, Dad."
Sherlock smiled, hugging her back. "Goodnight, Elspeth," he murmured. He hesitated for a moment before bending down and kissing her forehead. "Sleep well."
He turned to leave the room, turning off the light but leaving the lamp on in case Elspeth had any more nightmares. Sherlock was about to shut the door when he heard Elspeth calling across to him in a tired voice.
"Love you."
Sherlock paused. He smiled.
"Love you too," he whispered, closing the door behind him. They both slept soundly that night.
Thank you WerewolfHybrid31, GeorgyannWayson, fairytale city, tardislover1, Adrillian1497, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, cutester, E I Cochrane, bellechat and aorangeinboston for reviewing!
