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"You were married?" John removed his phone from his ear, stared at it, then returned it to his ear.
"You have a daughter?" He blinked and wondered if he really had went crazy in the 'Stan.
"Yes, and I wish you'd stop repeating everything I say. You sound like a bloody parrot," Sherlock informed him.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just, well, startling, to say the least." John was driving back from his convention. "How long ago did you, er, was she, uh... How old is she?"
"Fifteen," Sherlock responded crossly.
"Oh, that's not too bad! She can practically raise herself. Mary has a sister that age, and she's quite nice-"
"John."
"What, Sherlock?"
"She's coming to stay for a week. Ms. Hudson's orders. What am I going to do for a week with a fifteen year old girl?"
"I don't know! Here, I'll call Mary and call you back. All right? And can you take a look at those files I sent you? This new case sounds interesting."
He hung up, shaking his head in disbelief. Sherlock, married! And he'd thought Sherlock had no secrets. Quickly, he dialled Mary. She was not going to believe this!
When he called Sherlock back, he was greeted with a torrent of words.
"Slow down! Most civilized society uses the word 'hello', you know."
"John, she wants to know if we're going to church tomorrow. And Mrs. Hudson told me she'd take us to her church!"
"Sherlock, what's so bad about church? Mary and I go, and I like it. You don't strike me as a heathen."
Instantly, he regretted his words when Sherlock said, "I haven't gone to church since... Elsie...died. I don't go to church."
John pressed, "Why?"
"Look, I'm the one with the questions, not you. John, I don't want to go to church."
"Then don't go!"
"Lissie told me she's been "praying for this moment". Ms. Hudson's ironing my suit."
"Oh. Then I guess you don't have a choice. Listen, Sherlock, you aren't mad at God for Elsie' s death, are you?"
"..."
Slowly, deliberately, he attempted, "When I was in Afghanistan, I...didn't understand how God could let the stuff that I saw occur happen. I still don't. But Sherlock, you have to believe that somehow, God has a plan-"
"I have to go. The girl's calling me."
As soon as Sherlock had pulled up to 221B, Ms. Hudson had enveloped Lissie, and he'd slunk away to call John for the first time.
Me. Hudson had shown Lissie the flat, (she'd found the skull and experiments fascinating, to the housekeeper' s horror) and then Lissie had popped the church question. Now Ms. Hudson was beaming and ironing furiously.
"Sherlock, dear, show the love to her room."
"Oh, right. You have John's old room, it's got a nice window."
"We need to decorate it up," Ms. Hudson said cheerfully.
Lissie looked hopeful at the mention of something long-term, and he hastened, "This is only a trial run."
He picked up Lissie' s suitcase and she followed him down the hall.
"Not much, just an empty bookshelf, wardrobe, bed and a little bathroom. I suppose you had better at Raymond Manor."
"Oh, it was missing something," she affirmed.
He raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"
"You," she laughed.
"Oh, clever. Don't think you can flatter me, now. "
He handed her the suitcase and left, returning with the Anne of Green Gables series. He set them on the bed.
She gave a squeal. "I love those! I was so sad when I realized I'd left mine at the manor. And these are such beautiful editions!"
Earlier shyness vanishing, she gave him a hug.
He stood there, taken aback. She stopped hugging, freezing up again. "Oh, sorry..."
She began hanging up her clothes neatly. Shutting the wardrobe, she then set her new books on the shelf, beside her Bible and journal. A makeup case went to the sink, and all manner of hair tools.
He watched her work, silently.
She looks like her mother, but she has my eyes.
What? Where were these thoughts coming from? She was certainly a polite, friendly child, but he had no intention of letting her stay. She really would interfere with cases. If this week went well, though, he might have her here for a few weekends when school started up. Wasn't that what the divorced dads did? He really didn't know.
Backing out of the room, he suddenly noticed something was amiss with the window. And his papers were out of order.
Perhaps he was being paranoid, but he checked through the papers. His intuitions were usually right. Yes, they had been disturbed.
" Ms. Hudson? Did you move these?"
"Of course not, dear. I'm not your housekeeper."
He refrained from pointing out that she was ironing his suit. Frowning, he began searching for signs of a forced entry.
Lissie made her way in.
"May I go for a walk? I've never been to London."
"Too dangerous, alone, dear," Ms. Hudson said. "Sherlock, why don't you take the love?"
They walked.
When they left the flat, they did not see a camera trained on them. Had they seen it, they still wouldn't have known Moriarty was tracking them on a series of cameras.
Eyes on the screens, Moriarty muttered, "How interesting. Sherlock really must have some relation to this girl, or he wouldn't be with her."
"Yes, he's not the mentor type," one of Moriarty's henchmen replied dryly.
They watched them walk.
At the corner, Sherlock paused and waited for Lissie to drink it all in.
"That's the river Thames. It's always grey like that."
He was in his element, now, pointing out places and telling bits of history. Lissie watched him and saw that his eyes lit up when he talked, just like hers did.