Author Note:

Thanks so much for reading my story! Please do leave me a review and let me know what you enjoyed and didn't. I am always looking for new ways to better my writing. I have decided to end this story here, however not to worry. Alex shall return in a new story in which I feel I can now comfortably write in a better manner. I struggled with ending this story some, however I have decided that it is not really an ending, just an ending to the and introduction of how Alex came to live with Sherlock Holmes.

Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC Sherlock Characters. I do however own Alex.

Chapter 14: On Top of the World

When I awoke, the sun was going down. The soft glow of twilight which shined through the window made the messy room look almost eerie. I wondered absentmindedly what time it was. It was quite odd to wake up in the evening. I sat up and stretched, yawning, as I looked around the room. This room also had odd wall paper matched with green paint. Above the bed there was a picture of some sort covered in Chinese. I stood up on the bed and looked at it closely. Whatever it was, it looked important. I turned around and looked at the small bookcase which was cluttered with books and papers. Hanging on the oddly colored green wall was a sword. I peered at the plaque seeing that it was from First Place at the Camford sports society in 1996. Across the room by the door there was a periodic table. I climbed off of the sleigh bed, the sheets in disarray and walked towards the door when I heard muffled voices. I listened closely, trying to hear what they were saying, but I was unable to. From my quick view of the clutter I knew that there were no cups in the room which meant I would have to open the door. I reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it, pulling open the door ever so quietly. I stuck my ear to the crack.

"Feel better now, Alex?" I heard my father call out and I knew that I had been spotted. I stood there for a moment, trying to decide if I wanted to go out and face my father or stay in here hiding. I had just decided to crawl back into bed when I heard my father again, only this time he spoke quicker. "No. No. Stay. She needs to meet you anyways."

That peaked my curiosity and I turned, opening the door just enough to peek out of it. I pressed my face against the opening and tried to see who else was in the house. All I could see however was Sherlock standing in the kitchen, beckoning me with one of his long fingers. "Come on out here Alex." He told me. "I've someone I want you to meet."

I opened up the door slowly and walked cautiously down the hallway, through the kitchen, and stopped in entrance to the living room. There sitting in the chair opposite my father's was a man. He was wearing a dark blue sweater and had short dirty blonde hair in a military cut. I knew in an instant that this must be my father's blogger, Dr. John Watson. He looked at me and smiled the kind of smile that only someone who is truly happy to see you can give. I instantly felt comfortable.

"Alex, this is my friend John. John, this is my daughter, Alexandria." My father said and then shot John a look that I could instantly tell meant 'Are you happy now?' I stood in the entrance of the kitchen and smiled shyly at John.

"Hi." I told him with a small wave. "I like your blog." A look of surprise passed across his face and my father scoffed. He started mumbling about how everyone seemed to like John's little blog, but no one ever commented on his website.

I chose to ignore him and focus on John however who had a look of surprise on his face. "You read my blog?" He asked me, his eyebrows furrowed. "How old are you?"

"I'm 8." I told him smiling even more. "I've been told I act older though. Must be because I'm clever." I was very proud of this fact and that pride emitted on my face.

John shook his head. "An 8 year old, reading my blog. Maybe I need to be more careful about what I put up on there." He stood up from the chair and walked over to me the genuine smile still on his face. "You truly are Sherlock's daughter, no matter how mind-boggling it may seem, you are the spitting image of him." He held his hand out to me. "You can call me Uncle John." He said. When I took his hand he pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear "This is all new to Sherlock. He'll figure it out, just give him time. And in the meantime, I'm only a phone call away." He held me out at arms length, looking me over in a doctoral manner.

"Sherlock, have you been feeding this child? She is awfully skinny." He said turning to speak to my father who had found his way over to the crowded table, fingers typing silently on the open laptop. "Mrs. Hudson brought biscuits up this morning." He simply replied, his eyes never leaving the computer screen..

"Sherlock." John said exasperated. "Children have to eat at least three times a day."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She had the opportunity to have lunch. Mrs. Hudson brought her up a tuna sandwich and some crisps, but she was asleep." He retorted, obviously bored with the simply conversation. Apparently food didn't matter much to the great Sherlock Holmes.

John looked back at me. "I bet you're famished." He told me. I nodded. "Okay. Alright. I'd say it's time we all go out to dinner. Mary and Emma would love to meet you." He pulled out his phone and typed in a number, holding it up to his ear he turned to my father. "Sherlock, we are ALL going out to dinner. You two need to go get ready." He said in a voice that can only be described as paternal. My father and I sighed at the same time and then looked at each other in surprise. Uncle John laughed and then spoke into the phone. "Mary, we are going to dinner…"

45 minutes later we found ourselves seated at a table at Tapas Brindisa Soho Restaurant. I listened with fascination as Uncle John told about the first time he had eaten here with my father, during their first case. We sat at a crescent shaped booth, I in between in my father and another young girl who had been introduced to me as my cousin Emma. She was two years younger than me and looked just like my Aunt Mary who sat in between Emma and Uncle John. I had never before had so much family. I couldn't help but smile.

When our drinks came my father ripped off the top paper of his straw and blew on it, hitting me with the wrapper. I looked at him in surprise and laughed when I saw the sparkle in his eyes. I ripped off the top of my straw and tried to do the same. When I couldn't, Sherlock asked the waiter for more straws as he taught Emma and I how to shoot the paper off of them. I heard Uncle John tell Aunt Mary "Why do I feel like we have 3 children now?"

She kissed him on the cheek and said "Admit it, you are enjoying this."

She laughed when he said "Yeah. I really am."

That night I went to sleep in Sherlock's bed, him saying that he would sleep on the couch. I was so happy. It was strange. For the first time I felt complete. Well, almost. I still wished that my mother was there, but I was strangely okay with her disappearance. Sherlock had told me that she was safe, and I trusted him. I thought about how mum would have liked that dinner. She never would have let me shoot straw wrappers at a restaurant. Suddenly I had another idea of why my mum had left me with Sherlock. She said that it was to keep me safe, and maybe it was. But maybe, just maybe, it was also because she knew that I needed a dad. I knew that night that no matter how cold Sherlock may appear at times he was just that. Not just a father. Not just some distant figure, picture on a computer screen or scribbled initials on a piece of paper. He was my dad. Not just that even though, he was my daddy. For once in my life, I had a daddy. I, Alexandria Hamish Holmes, was the great detective's daughter. I fell asleep in my new home on Baker street, London, feeling on top of the world.