A/N: Hello! Back again. Couldn't resist doing a Sherlock story. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up. But I wanted to at least put it out there. This is another Sherlock has a daughter fic. I happen to be very fond of them for some reason. This story may or may not follow cannon. I haven't decided. However, let it be known now that Sherlock is different from the show's Sherlock. He's still the same snarky, lovable detective, but having a daughter has changed him a bit. The changes will be subtle at first, and might not even be noticeable. But they are there.

Also, one more thing before I go. I adore John. I often have John and Sherlock fighting for my affections. There's simply not enough John stories out there, and I'm not really one for JohnLock myself. So please...if any of you out there reading this know of any decent John stories please let me know.

Enjoy your reading folks.

"We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your name!" John Watson was utterly flabbergasted. Here before him stood a tall, very strange man. He had short, dark curly hair. A scarf was hanging loosely around his neck, and he was sporting what appeared to be a very nice dark grey Milford Coat.

"We've only just met each other," John continued, "and you want to go look at a flat together?"

"Problem?" the curly haired man questioned, left eyebrow rising.

John just stared. His mouth opened and closed a few times. He was aware that he probably looked like a blubbering idiot, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of a retort. He looked to his left in the hopes of receiving assistance from his friend Mike. However, none was to be found. Mike smiled towards John somewhat smugly.

A bit put out, John finally managed to find his voice again. "Look mate, I don't know if…"

"You're an army doctor," the man interrupted. "You've been invalid from Afghanistan. You've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him due to either his alcoholism or the fact that he just recently walked out on his wife. I'm leaning towards the latter. Your therapist believes that your limp is psychosomatic. She's correct." He ended his rambling and smirked at John, then proceeded to stride towards the door. "That's enough to sate you I believe."

He opened the door and started to strut out before quickly swinging his upper half back inside the room. "The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon."

The door swung shut behind him, and John stared dumbly at it for a few seconds before swinging his head back towards Mike. The man simply smiled at his dumbfounded friend. "Yeah, he's always like that."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

John gazed at the bronze letters in front of him curiously, his cane propped carefully next to him.

221B Baker Street.

The sound of a car pulling up interrupted his thought process, and he turned around to see the man from earlier, Sherlock Holmes, get out of his taxi. He closed the car door and leaned back in through the window to hand him the driver money. "Thanks very much," he said before turning around and walking towards John. "Hello again," he greeted, holding his hand out.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," John replied, grabbing his hand in a firm shake. "Sherlock, please," he requested. John nodded and commented, "This looks like a prime spot. Must be expensive." Sherlock hummed. "Yes I suppose it would be." At John's questioning look he continued. " The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, owed me a favor and gave me a special deal."

"Oh?"

"Yes. A few years back her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to assist her with his sentencing." "You were able to stop her husband from being executed?" John inquired.

"Oh no," Sherlock smiled, "I ensured it."

Before John could respond to that, Sherlock had swung the door open. A small, older woman with a kind face was there to meet them, and John watched as she greeted Sherlock cheerfully. She embraced him, and John was somewhat surprised to see Sherlock briefly return her affections with a hug of his own.

Sherlock allowed his landlady and new flat mate to exchange introductions before making his way upstairs to his abode. He waited patiently for John to limp his way up the necessary steps, and opened the door exposing the living room.

John thought the flat looked nice, very nice indeed. It just needed some tidying up. He said as much. "Well this could be nice. Very nice indeed."

"Yes, my thoughts precisely. So I went ahead and moved in." As he spoke the last sentence, John also said, "Soon as we get all the rubbish cleaned out."

An awkward pause filled the room, and John inwardly cringed. He opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, he heard what he thought sounded like a child giggling. "Sorry," he started, looking at Sherlock in confusion. "Did I just hear a child?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I forgot to mention that I have a…"

"Dad!" John swung around towards the door of the flat, watching as a small child burst through and ran straight towards Sherlock.

"…daughter," Sherlock finished. John watched as the little girl ran up to Sherlock and hugged his leg. She only reached up to about a little above his knee, and John ruled her to be about 7 or 8 years old. She had blonde curly hair that reached to about her shoulders. She was turned towards her father so the rest of her features were hidden from him.

"Dad, you're back!" the child exclaimed happily. "Yes," Sherlock simply replied. "I see you've gotten into the ice cream again." The child stepped back a bit from the man, ducking her head. "Yes, well, Mrs. Hudson offered me some and I couldn't be rude and refuse…"

Sherlock rolled his eyes again in exasperation. John figured he did that a lot.

"Hello!" He looked down towards the small voice that was suddenly addressing him. "My name's Adaline," she started, walking towards him. "Adaline Cecilia Holmes. But I just go by Adaline." She held her hand out towards John.

Highly amused at her adorable action, he gently took her small hand in his. "Are you going to live with us?" she inquired, looking up at him with big green eyes that matched her fathers. In fact, a lot of her matched her father. She definitely had his particular shade of green eyes. The shape of her nose was from Sherlock, and her ivory complexion matched his as well. The only difference of course was the color of her hair, and a rosiness to her cheeks which made her look very innocent and cherub like.

"I believe so," John answered, and couldn't help but smile back at her when she beamed up at him in response to his statement. "Adaline what on Earth are you wearing on your feet?" Sherlock spoke in an exasperated voice.

John looked down curiously and chuckled. She was wearing bright green rain boots which didn't at all match the blue floral dress she had on. They had little lily pads on them and a frog was show cased near the toe of the boots. John was even more amused when she turned towards her father and the shoes let out a tiny croak.

"Do you like them?" she grinned excitedly. "Mrs. Hudson got them for me!" "Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled suddenly. "Yes dear?" the kind lady inquired, walking inside. "Mrs. Hudson how many times have I told you that if you buy her clothing, it must be sensible?"

The landlady's eyebrows went up in confusion. "I don't know what you mean Sherlock."

Croak.

John snickered a bit and Sherlock groaned. "Oh lighten up Sherlock," she lightly laughed. "She was such a sweet girl helping me tidy up my apartment and I couldn't resist." Sherlock huffed when Mrs. Hudson and Adaline both looked up at him with innocent smiles. "Oh alright," he conceded. "Next time just make sure you buy her things that aren't so…loud." Mrs. Hudson nodded and looked towards John.

"What do you think of the flat then Doctor Watson? If you'll be needing two bedrooms there's another one right upstairs."

"Of course we'll be needing two bedrooms," he answered, slightly confused. She smiled at him. "Oh don't worry dear, there's all sorts round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones." John spluttered in indignation and looked to Sherlock, who seemed to be oblivious to the land lady's words. "Sherlock the mess you've made!" Mrs. Hudson continued, also unaware of John's plight.

He watched as Sherlock began to somewhat attempt to tidy up the place. He limped himself over to the nearest armchair and plopped himself down. Adaline giggled at John's silliness and walked over to the coach, croaking the entire way. "Adaline I insist you take your shoes off before walking any further. I simply cannot endure the croaking."

"But dad I can't take them off yet!" She cried, looking at her father imploringly. "Mrs. Hudson says I need to wear them as much as possible to work them in." "Of course she did," he muttered, letting the matter drop.

It was silent throughout the flat for a little bit then, and John glanced around trying to take everything in. His eyes landed on one particular item on the mantel piece. "That's a skull." He stated the obvious. "Friend of mine," Sherlock answered, glaring for a second at Adaline's shoes.

"His name is Rupert," Adaline provided for John. "I much prefer the name Billy," Sherlock countered.

"I looked you up on the internet last night," John said then. "Find anything interesting?" "I found your website," John answered. "The Science of Deduction."

Sherlock smiled at John, quite proud of himself. "What did you think?" His smile fell when John got a hesitant look on his face.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb." "That's correct," Sherlock nodded. "I can also read your military career in your face and leg, and your brother's drinking habits by your mobile phone."

"How is that possible?"

"My dad is quite clever, Dr. Watson," Adaline said. Sherlock gave a small smile to his daughter in thanks. "What about these suicides then, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson inquired. She walked over and grabbed the newspaper that had been thrown on the table in the living room. "Three exactly the same."

"Four," Sherlock corrected, walking over to the window and peering out of it. Adaline hopped up from her place on the coach and walked over to her father. She wrapped an arm around his leg, and he glanced down at her, placing his left hand on top of her head. She leaned into him sweetly and he gently began running his fingers through her curls. "There's been a fourth."

John turned his head towards the door when he heard footsteps coming up towards the flat. Inspector Lestrade strode through. The man looked over at John, giving him a polite nod in greeting before looking back towards the curly haired man.

"Uncle Greg!" Lestrade looked down when he suddenly felt something small attach itself to his leg and grip it firmly. "Hello Ada!" he greeted warmly, hugging her back happily. He was quite fond of the little girl, and commented to Sherlock as often as he could how much more pleasant she was than her father.

"Where?" Sherlock asked the detective, cutting right to the chase.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens," Lestrade answered, looking away from the child now and back to Sherlock. "What's new about this one?" Adaline asked, and the detective looked back down, eyebrow raised. "Uncle Greg you wouldn't have come if there was nothing new," she finished smartly. He shook his head a bit at her astuteness, and answered. "This one decided to be a bit different and leave a note. Will you come?"

Sherlock gave a pause before continuing. "Who's on forensics?" "Anderson."

Sherlock grimaced and Adaline looked at her father worriedly. John had no idea what was going on or why Adaline was now somewhat pouting. "Anderson won't work with me," Sherlock said.

"Well he won't be your assistant." "I need an assistant."

Adaline opened her mouth, and without even looking in her direction, Sherlock said, "No, Adaline." She huffed and crossed her arms dejectedly. "Will you come?" Lestrade asked again.

"Not in a police car," he answered. "I'll be right behind." Lestrade thanked the man and left. Silence echoed through the flat for a good five seconds before Sherlock excitedly leapt into the air, clenching his fists triumphantly. He picked his daughter up and whirled her around in a circle happily. The little girl, completely forgetting she was supposed to be upset, giggled wildly and latched onto her father's arms. He plopped a sweet kiss on her forehead before setting her down and running towards the door.

"Brilliant!" he cried. "Absolutely brilliant. Four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh it's Christmas! Mrs. Hudson please watch Adaline for me. I know you won't mind. I'll probably be late coming back; make sure she eats something. Bed by 9:30 at the latest. I will also require sustenance."

"I'm your land lady Sherlock, not your babysitter," she reminded him.

"Something cold will do," he continued. He stopped all movements suddenly and looked towards Adaline. He gave her 'the look' and she sighed and nodded, seemingly understanding just what it entailed. He nodded back, satisfied. "John, have a cuppa and make yourself at home. Don't wait up!"

Sherlock darted out of the room, leaving the three remaining occupants staring at each other. Adaline croaked herself over to her father's chair, sitting down. She kept looking towards the door, as if she were waiting for something to happen. "Look at him, dashing about!" Mrs. Hudson tutted. "My husband was just the same." She smiled fondly towards John. "But you're more the sitting down type, I can tell. I'll make you that cup of tea. You just rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" John shouted loudly and quite unexpectedly, making Mrs. Hudson and Adaline look at him in shock. "Sorry. I'm so sorry," he back tracked when he realized he had startled a child. She looked at him from her chair, blinking owlishly. "It's just sometimes this bloody thing…"

"I understand dear," Mrs. Hudson cut in. "I've got a hip." John cleared his throat. "A cuppa would be quite lovely, thank you." "Just this once dear," the land lady replied, walking towards her flat. "Couple of biscuits too, if you've got them."

"I'll help Mrs. Hudson!" Adaline threw in sweetly, bouncing towards the older woman. Mrs. Hudson chuckled fondly towards the child. "You just want some more sweets." "Well.." the blonde haired girl started. Mrs. Hudson winked and lowered her voice a bit. "It'll be our little secret dear." Adaline beamed at her and John chuckled at the two. He picked up the newspaper next to him, and began sifting through it.

"You're a doctor," John heard a deep voice say and looked over to see Sherlock leaning against the doorway. His eyebrows rose. "Yes…" he started. "In fact you're an army doctor."

"I am," John confirmed. "Any good?"

"Very good."

"Seen a lot of injuries then. Violent deaths."

"Yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet." "Of course, yes," John answered quietly. He watched as Adaline peeked her way in through the doorway again, having heard her father's voice. "Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

"Want to see some more?" Sherlock inquired, already knowing the answer. John looked away from Adaline to Sherlock. "Oh God, yes."

The two men headed out of the room towards the front door. "Are you all going out?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Impossible suicides Mrs. Hudson? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" He took the older woman by her shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Look at you, all happy. It's not decent," she said, the smile on her face contradicting her words.

"Who cares about decent?" Sherlock and John headed towards the door, John going outside first. Sherlock went to follow when he stopped suddenly and turned back towards the flat. John turned as well and saw that Adaline had grabbed the back of her father's coat. Sherlock kneeled down to her level.

"I'll be back very soon," he promised quietly. Adaline said nothing, only gazed at her father very seriously for several seconds. She bit her lip and creased her eyebrows and John had to fight back a smile at the adorableness. He didn't dare move for fear of interrupting the father-daughter moment. She nodded then, and Sherlock moved towards her, grabbing her small body in a tight hug before kissing the side of her head and standing to his full height once again, and bounding outside.

"The game is on!"

A/N: basically, I'm writing this story for myself. I just had this idea in my head and I needed to let it out. I realize that Sherlock might not be Sherlocky enough, but as I said, he has a daughter, a young daughter, so that's going to make him act a bit different. More human. anyway, I'll get the second chapter up quick as I can. make sure and review if you can!