Thank you to those reading any of my stories…I'm having an update everything day haha :D

Rebecca had heard the conversation through that door that John and Sherlock were having, she had known as soon as she had arrived that her father would want to know the real reason she had decided to stay with them.

Hearing Sherlock leave Rebecca decided to finally come out of the spare room she had claimed, she walked out more confidently than she felt. John smiled shyly at her and Rebecca nodded curtly back.

"He was probably raring to tell you the story from his point of view wasn't he…missed out me being taken into care of course, people like Sherlock thrive on their own, but whoever a person is, you cannot thrive at 11, parentless and loveless Mr Watson." Rebecca spat.

"I do not hate my father, I hate what he does, I hate that he feels he must be a heartless bastard who cares nothing for real people." Rebecca slumped down on the chair Sherlock had been sat in, John could tell she wasn't much like her father in way of manner, she had simply tried to appear that way to Sherlock. John could see that really she was just a lonely, lost teenager, clever no doubt like Sherlock but that seemed all.

John sat on the sofa and turned on the Television switching it to the news. John wasn't listening to the T.V though he was still thinking through having Sherlock's daughter around the house. He knew already that it was going to be extremely awkward and both parties were not going to get to know one another with the way they already thought of each other.

"Yesterday afternoon in Brooke Street, Manchester, two people have died after an explosion from number 12 on the street. The explosion in which no-one was hurt created a devastating fire which spread over 3 houses down the street killing an older woman and a child aged 9."

Rebecca felt slightly nauseas, flashing a quick look at John to luckily find that he wasn't paying any attention to the news. Rebecca turned her attention back to her old blackened flat. She could remember running out the house with seconds to spare having grabbed anything she could, after the first explosion fire engines had started arriving but by then the fire that had followed had already destroyed Rebecca's flat.

Then Rebecca had ran, she got herself into the centre of Manchester and a called Sherlock, she hadn't known exactly why, but she had known in that instant that being with him would be the safest place she could be. But she didn't want Sherlock to find out, because that would therefore lead him to events that had occurred before her flat meeting it's sticky end.

"Rebecca…" John suddenly asked she turned and found his eyes glued to the television screen, she got up and flicked off the screen. John seemed to blink continuously before registering what he had seen.

"Was that…?" He began to ask.

"Yes John it was." Sherlock said as he came back into the room.