Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes and I am making no money from this, duh, it is purely for enjoyment purposes only. Now that we've got that settled, on with this chapter!

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Sherlock stayed in his room for almost an hour, replaying the incident outside over and over, trying to analyse every little detail about it. The amount of seconds between the sound of the gun firing and the time that the bullets hit Abigail, the angle of entry. Any little detail that could help him deduce something about the murderer. However the wailing that was coming from the tiny child was making it difficult for his thoughts to process. "Mrs Hudson, I understand that there probably isn't much you can do, but I must ask, can you get it quiet down?"

"I'm sorry Mr Holmes, but she doesn't seem to want to calm down, nothing I do is working." She replied, still rocking the kid as she gently rubbed her back. "Oh mercy, she does have a good set of lungs on her. I haven't heard a baby screaming like this for a long time. She is beautiful though, a very adorable little lass." The elderly land lady couldn't help giving a small smile tried to calm the distressed child.

"I'm glad you think so Mrs Hudson, but... That doesn't really help us." The man was pacing anxiously back and forth so much so that he might wear the carpet thin.

"What's the matter Holmes? What's all this noise?" A gentleman walked through the door, a look of bewilderment and confusion was etched into his face. The look was heightened even further when he spotted Mrs Hudson sitting in a chair with a bundle in her arms, gently rocking back and forth while his friend paced. "Holmes what's all this about? Why is there a baby in here? What happened to that woman outside?" At that question Sherlock Holmes stopped pacing and led Watson over to the bundle.

"Well Watson, the woman was murdered-"

"That's fairly obvious to deduce my good man, but-" The doctor interjected, having already realised that the lady on the front step had been murdered given the two bullet holes in her back and the number of police around. However his friend cut him off again before he could finish speaking.

"Really Watson do let me finish." Sherlock shook his head.

"Sorry Holmes."

"It's alright, but please don't interrupt. Anywho, this is her daughter." He explained and gestured to the child. "See for yourself, she looks just like her."

"That she does... She's pretty but... Too loud." The old doctor peered down at her and frowned. "Horrible little squirt." He shook his head in distaste, wincing as she seemed to cry louder.

"Watson, I don't think she likes what you said." Sherlock chuckled before there was a knock at the door and it opened to reveal Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.

"Mr Holmes, there's something I think you should see... Blimey that is one loud baby!" The man shook his head and for a moment, held his hands over his ears to try and block out the noise temporarily.

"Indeed she is, but watch what you say, she doesn't seem to like people's honesty." Holmes smirked, managing to find a little humour in the situation. "So what is it, Lestrade? You said you had something I should see?" He was interested to see what the other man had found.

"A letter addressed to you. We found it in the coat pocket of the deceased woman outside." He replied as he took the envelope out of his pocket and walked over to hand it to the detective. "Given that it was found on the victim I do have the right to read it, but I thought that perhaps you should look at it first."

"Thank you Lestrade." He nodded, taking the letter and opening it. "Let's see what all of this is about." His coal eyes quickly scanned the paper and he muttered to himself as he read it until he came to the bottom of the page and stared at it in surprise.

My Dear Sherlock,

I am sorry to come to you like this, but I have to see you. I know it seems strange that I have written this, but it is a precaution in case something happens to me. You see I've had this awful feeling lately and if you were to ask me why, which I'm certain you would, I couldn't tell you. Perhaps it is because I'm a mother now, and I'm just being paranoid, but I feel as though I am being watched. As thought there's some terrible shadow of death hanging over my head. That is why I have to see you, though if you are reading this then it is likely that I am already dead. If that is so then please tell our daughter I am sorry and I love her... I will always love her.

Now I know that will have you wondering why I say ours and although I'm sure that big brain of yours will tell you what it means I'll explain. Ella is your daughter. Her full name is Ella Violet Holmes. I decided to call Ella after one of your favourite words, elementary. I know it's not spelt the same way, but it sounds similar and I thought it was a cute name. She's the most darling little baby and she's mostly very well behaved, I do warn you, however; that she gets upset if she hasn't been fed for a few hours. She also has a little teddy bear toy that I keep in my pocket for her in case she wants it. In the event of my death I want you to take it and keep it for her.

I wish I could write more , however I hope to apologise to you in person and explain the rest of this. Should that not be possible then I must ask you to remember two things for me. One, that I love you and have always loved you, and two, you must love Ella. Please. She deserves all the love you can give her.

Thank you for everything Sherlock, it means more to me than you could ever possibly know.

Love,

Abigail Orfe.

By the time he had finished reading the letter he had tears in eyes, his hands trembling as he tried to hold in his grief. If she'd sent the letter to him by mail then he would have known. He could have saved her! Now he had to take care of his daughter and he had no idea how to look after a child.

"Well I certainly wasn't expecting that." Holmes muttered, shaking his head as mind was left reeling with multitudes of emotions and thoughts.

"What does it say Holmes?" Watson asked, moving to stand closer to his friend as he handed it to Lestrade.

"Watson, it would seem that I am a father."

"What?! I-I say Holmes you must be pulling my leg!" John's eyes popped as stared at him, gaping like a fish while he seemed to flounder for words.

"Well strike me up a gum tree! It's true!" Having worked with Sherlock on numerous occasions Inspector Lestrade had seen many strange things, but never in his wildest dreams had he expected to read a letter from a murdered woman to Holmes stating that he was the father of her child whom she'd been coming over to give to him. However there was doubt in his mind that this woman was actually telling the truth. "But 'ow do we know that she ain't lying to you in this 'ere letter?"

"Abigail was a tremendous woman, if she says I'm the baby's father then I will not doubt her. It would be an insult to her memory." Holmes shook his head, leaving the other two males stumped. The detective was actually going to take the kid under his wing and raise her as his own daughter. However there was one problem.

"I'm afraid we can't let you take custody of the girl without proof that you're her father and even then you might 'ave to take it up with the courts if she she has any other family that want to take her in." The Inspector sighed softly just as another man from Scotland Yard appeared in the door. "What is it Sergeant?"

"Sir, we have discovered more possessions on the body of the deceased." He replied walking over with a teddy bear in one hand and a bottle in the other. "We thought that, perhaps, the child would like to have these." He held them out to the inspector, only to have them taken by Holmes who brought them over to Mrs Hudson.

When little Ella caught sight of the toy her crying came to a stop, allowing everyone else in the room to breathe a sigh of relief as they were no longer subjected to the endless wails.

"Well thank goodness for that." Lestrade muttered, voicing the words that the rest of the adults who were present were no doubt thinking.

"Indeed, I think she will be much happier now." Sherlock couldn't help smiling as he looked down at the baby as she cuddled her teddy.

"Mr Holmes, do ya think it would be alright if I went and heated some milk for her?" The elderly landlady asked, still cradling the child.

"Of course, Mrs Hudson. Go right ahead, she will probably appreciate having something to eat after all of this." He nodded.

"Very well then." She smiled and attempted to stand up, only to discover that trying to get out of the chair with a baby in her arms was rather difficult. Especially when Ella decided that she didn't want the lady to move and began to squirm. "Oh my, I'd forgotten how tricky this can be." The woman chuckled.

Holmes hesitated for a moment before extending his arms out towards her. "Permit me, my dear lady."

"Are you sure, Mr Holmes?" She asked, surprised.

"Quite. If she is my daughter then I'm going to need to get used to looking after her."

"Alright Mr Holmes." She nodded and carefully handed the little girl over to him. "Ooh, watch her head, sir."

"I will, Mrs Hudson, don't worry... I admit this is definitely a first for me." He smiled as he carefully held Ella and tried to cradle her, without dropping her or hurting her. He carried her as if she were made of glass, like she was the most fragile thing on earth, and in his mind she was. "There... I think I can manage now." He murmured softly.

"Alright then, I'll go and get her some milk." The Scottish woman smiled and headed out, while the other three men in the room stared at Holmes in surprise.

"My word, I never thought I'd see the day... Mr Sherlock Holmes, a father. I didn't think you'd ever settle down with a woman." Lestrade said as he stared at him, scratching his head. From behind him the Sergeant cleared his throat softly, gaining his superior officer's attention. "Yes Sergeant?"

"I think I'd better go back and see what the rest of the men are doing." He explained, backing away slowly in the direction of the door.

"Yes I think that is a good idea, you are dismissed Sergeant." Lestrade nodded and the man quickly headed out. "Well this has certainly been a strange day."

"Strange, Lestrade?" Holmes asked as he slowly walked over, still carrying the child.

"Yes, strange. What else do you call a day when you find a woman murdered on your door with a child that is supposedly yours?"

"Sad I would say. Tragic."

"Well yes, you're right, but I mean... Well the strange part about it is how you... You're... You know."

"No, I'm afraid I don't." The detective smirked and raised a brow, daring him to finish his line of thought. "Go on, what am I doing that's so strange?"

"You're taking care of a baby, that's what."

"Oh. I suppose you're right, the idea of that is rather odd to say the least, however, I won't allow this child to become an orphan left to try and survive on the streets of London with no home or family."

"But Holmes, how will you be able to take care of her when we're off on cases? You won't be able to bring her with us, you know." Watson pointed out.

"I am perfectly aware of that fact, Watson, and I fully intend to have her taken care of whenever we are away. I'm sure that Mrs Hudson can help us and if need be I can hire a maid to look after young Ella." He replied, as if the solution to the problem was obvious.

"Well alright Holmes, if you're so determined to keep the little..." Watson began to mutter to himself as he went and sat down in one of the arm chairs, not wishing to discuss the matter any further than he already had. If he had learned only one thing from all of his cases with the detective it was that, once his mind was made up about something, Sherlock Holmes could never be swayed.

Sherlock merely chuckled and rolled his eyes at his friend's clear opposition to his idea. He knew that this was crazy, and probably silly, but he had never had a family. John and Mrs Hudson were the closest he'd had to one and now there was a chance that he had a relative of his own flesh and blood. If this proved to be true then he wanted to look after her. He wanted to take care of his baby.

In fact, even if it turned out she wasn't his then he would try to adopt her. He owed it to Abigail to raise her child since she had been murdered when coming to see him. It was his fault she was gone and now he had to do whatever he could to try and make it up to the child.

"Lestrade, have the necessary arrangements made so that I may have the tests. I want to find out if Ella really is my daughter."

"It may take a little time, but consider it done, Mr Holmes." He nodded and left to do as he asked.