Sherlock like many parents, never realized that their child would have low self esteem issues so early.

Especially since Charlotte was only five.

But Sherlock was the same way too.

But with everything she and him went through it made sense.

Waiting in her room for her to come out of surgery, a doctor soon came in.

"She almost died of blood loss sir," the doctor explained carefully, "but since you held the wound pretty well she lived."

Sherlock smiled. He would have to thank John later for that.

"She's in good condition for what almost happened," she continued, "but she'll be out for the rest of the day."

Sherlock then looked outside, it was about 5 PM so Charlotte would be going to sleep soon anyway.

"She'll be able to use her shoulder with some therapy Mr. Holmes, probably about 2 to 6 months."

He sighed. He thought the therapy days were over for her.

Oh well. At least she was okay.

As the doctor left, he heard his phone ring and answered it.

"Mycroft this is why I didn't want her to go to that dreaded school of yours."

"Oh shut up," he spat.

"Says the person who got her a puppy AND a scholarship."

Someone then knocked on the door. Sherlock immediately hung up.

Coming through the door revealed two nurses and Charlotte sound asleep with a big bandage around her upper arm.

His eyes softened at the sight.

When they left, and no one was looking Sherlock revealed under his big coat Charlotte's bear, and carefully put it under her damaged arm.

"Night love," he whispered and then he soon fell asleep as well while sitting on her bed beside her.

"SHERLY CURLY HOLMES WAKE UP," Charlotte yelled.

Sherlock sprang up from the hospital bed concerned and looked at the giggling child hiding beneath her covers at the hospital.

"People are coming!"

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "don't call me that."

"But are people coming?! Pleaseeee tell me you invited them to come papa!"

"No," he said simply, "I wanted to make sure you lived first," he joked messing with her hair.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically. "So am I going back to school?"

He then frowned, "God no."

"Oh," she frowned. Their was no use in arguing with him. Especially not now.

"I'm going to email that bastard woman who dragged you however," he hissed, "no one does that to my-," he then stopped and just looked at Charlotte while she smiled.

"Thanks papa," she blushed, forcing him to a hug. He stiffened but soon relaxed, getting used to something that once was so foreign to him.

"And you are going to learn self defense as well," he explained, "I'm not having this happen to you ever again."

"Can I learn how to shoot a gun?!"

"No," someone muttered by the door.

"But Jaaawwwwnnn," Sherlock groaned.

"He said that I couldn't shoot, now I have to prove him wrong!"

"My five year old niece and goddaughter is not going to learn how to shoot a gun."

"Charlotte doesn't have a godfather much less a godmother," Sherlock stated confused, "God doesn't exist."

"Yes she does. It's me and Molly Hooper."

"What?! No-"

"Anyhow my goddaughter is too young and you both need to shut up. I sneaked my way in here and I really don't want to have to be escorted out."

"And Charlotte Lise Holmes if you EVER pull a stunt like you did yesterday, I and Sherlock will kill you," John warned.

"I thought it was a clever move."

John then gave Sherlock a look.

"Um I mean, he's right, you can't just threaten to kill yourself."

"I can't believe he's my uncle," she thought out loud.

"No he isn't," Sherlock whispered, continuing to mess with her hair, "those people aren't your family anymore I promise."

After a moment of silence John soon left knowing Sherlock needed to talk to Charlotte. Seeing as she was staring at a wall.

"Char," he sighed, "Char."

She turned towards him with worry and fear in her eyes saying, "what if I turn to him papa?"

"You're not like him and you never will be darling," he whispered rubbing her back as he saw John do to Elizabeth a million times.

She then put her small head in her smaller hands trying not to cry.

She almost died yesterday.

"Shhh," he cooed, "everything is okay now."

And for a long time, everything was.

The next few months consisted of therapy (which Charlotte hated), self defense (which she loved), advanced work with the tutor, and of course solving cases.

Walking in to yet another case with heely's (it makes it easier for her to catch up to Sherlock's long strides) she went into St. Bart's with a sense of pride.

"Hello Molly!"

"Ready for today's dissection," she asked bringing out a human brain.

"Yup," the little girl said cheerfully while putting on gloves and tying her hair back.

And that's when her love of science began...but not the type you suspect.

"So this is the frontal lobe-"

"Quick question."

"Yes?"

"Why does the brain work the way it does? With emotions and all of that?"

"That's more of a psychology question."

"Oh ok," she replied, messing with the frontal lobe with her good arm.

Later that day, not only did she return her music theory books, she got some psychology books.