Bradstreet's daughter shrieked and threw herself at his legs as he entered the sitting room. He scooped her up into his arms and kissed her on the forehead. She giggled and threw her arms around his neck.
"I'm home!" He called to his wife unnecessarily. She came from the kitchen to greet him, but he caught something in her expression and set his daughter down, who reacted by latching on to his leg.
"What's wrong, Melissa?" He asked as he pulled her into a hug.
"The doctor came to take the cast of Sophie's arm." His wife said softly. "He kept talking to her, and when I told him she hadn't started talking yet he started asking all these questions about her." She frowned as she recalled the visit. "He was here all afternoon asking questions and watching her and he says he thinks something's wrong with her."
"He said that?" Bradstreet asked carefully. Melissa nodded.
"He thinks something's not right in her head. He wanted us to take her to see another doctor."
Bradstreet sighed. "She doesn't talk, and she doesn't usually play like children her age are supposed to, but that doesn't mean something's wrong with her, Missy. She may just be a little different." His wife relaxed some. "You don't want to take her to see this doctor." He realized.
Melissa nodded, but could not help worry anyway. Nor was she alone. Her husband considered his little girl as he again bent down and scooped her up into his arms.
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.
