Disclaimer. I do not own Sherlock. All copyright belongs to the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and now BBC television. No copyright infringement is intended nor should be inferred.

1

Rosie Watson was not the sort of woman to suffer fools. Since inheriting 221 Baker Street she had been thinking a lot about her childhood and the former occupants of the upstairs flat. She had loved visiting Sherlock and Mrs Hudson as a child and knew it hadn't been long following her mother's death that her father had moved back to the flat with her and Sherlock. She sighed, for one thing it meant he had babysitters on tap. She sat at the table in the barely changed kitchen thinking about the overly tall man and her practical and somewhat stoic dad. She loved both men dearly but knew there was always something between the two men. It was like they were the brothers the other never had. She sighed, knowing her father had never wanted her to meet his sister, she had only done so at the funeral. Now as she looked at the old photos on the table in front of her she wondered if he had seen the same family resemblance she did.

"Rosie." She looked up to see the older Watson watching her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes Dad." She dropped a photo of her as a baby in her mother's arms back in the box. "Just going through some of these things. Can't believe Mrs Hudson didn't have a family of her own."

"She did." Sherlock stated as he joined them. "Us."

Rosie smiled, watching the older men. They were really best friends, and had a history she had only heard snippets of over the years but she knew there was more to them than just being a retired GP with an Army background and a detective. She knew Sherlock and Molly were happy and somewhat settled, well as much as Sherlock ever could be but since her mother died she didn't even remember her father showing an interest in another woman.

"Yeah." She looked up as John began making tea. "Yeah, we are family. Where's Molly?"

"Visiting her lab." Sherlock stated. "I think. She mentioned the lab."

"You never listen to her." John sighed wearily. "You should listen to your partner, you know. One day. One day you'll wish you could."

"Like you and Mum?" Rosie asked. She slumped back in the chair. "You tell me Mrs Hudson was special."

"She was." Sherlock stated. "She always will be."

Rosie nodded. Her godmother had been one heck of a woman. There was no denying it. "Yes, but you tell me that about Mum too. Only, it was only Mrs Hudson that would talk to me about her. Tell me stories. I never knew if half of them were true."

"Didn't John tell you much? John. The child should know about her parentage."

"The child." Rosie snapped. "Is twenty two years old."

"Exactly. A child." Sherlock snapped at her as she rolled her eyes. "John."

"I told you the important things."

"Such as?" Sherlock frowned.

"That she was beautiful. Had the same colour eyes as you." He looked at his daughter. "Wicked sense of humour, intelligent and loved us. She really did love us."

Rosie nodded. "Did you three really solve a murder on your wedding day? Was that just one of Mrs Hudson's stories?" She looked over to where the elderly lady who's funeral they had attended had placed a wedding photo of all four of them on the mantle. Sherlock and John exchanged glances.

"Well, er." John paused.

"John, do you want to tell her the full story or should I?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow as the young woman smirked.