A/N: Many thanks to Phish Tacko for her help beta'ing this!

Ch. 5

Irene Fights the Law and Meets Marie

Sherlock had taken Marie back to 221B a few weeks after he'd returned to the UK. The child needed a little time to become acclimated to him and his flat.

Now six months had passed, and Sherlock and Marie were living peacefully. He'd even recently gotten back in touch with John and they'd become friends again. Or, rather, Sherlock had ended up saving John's life, and John forgave him.

So, all was well.

Sherlock had just finished tucking Marie into bed – she had a "big girl" bed now; a small, child-sized bed that Mycroft had purchased. It had been custom-painted purple.

"Call daddy if you need anything," Sherlock said after giving Marie a kiss on the forehead. He turned towards the door, stepped out of the room, and headed towards the living room, intent on catching up on the news before heading to bed himself.

When he arrived, he was surprised to see Irene Adler sitting in his armchair, legs crossed and a smile on her face.

"Miss Adler! To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked. "Also, how did you get in? I locked the door."

"I got in through the window. As far as my reasoning, well, that's a bit of a story."

"Hm." Sherlock thought for a moment, trying to figure out which window he may have left open. "It must have been the kitchen window. I don't recall having locked that one. Now, what about your story?"

"While I was in the states, I got into some trouble," Irene began. She held up her phone, which had a photo of her on it, clearly a mug shot. In it, she was soaking wet, her hair was disheveled, her makeup was running down her cheeks, and her tank top was torn, revealing a lacy black bra.

Sherlock's eyes grew wide at the sight. He handed the phone back to her and took a seat on the couch.

"I assume you mean that you jumped bail. What were you arrested for?"

"How did you know?"

"You're showing me a mug shot of yourself and you just stated that you had some trouble in the states. It wasn't all that hard to put together."

"Right. Perceptive as always. And you're correct, I did jump bail, but the charges are completely unjustified. Anyway, I need a place to stay for the evening. I'll be out of your hair in the morning."

Sherlock wasn't about to let Irene off so easily, though. Not while Marie was in the flat.

"Explain what you mean by 'completely unjustified'."

Irene sighed. She was jet-lagged and really wanted to sleep, but decided she owed him an explanation.

"It all started in Mobile, Alabama. A lovely young man purchased my services, and I was more than happy to give them to him. The problem was that his mother stuck her nose into our business. As it turns out, the man was married. His mother called the police to file domestic abuse charges against me. I ran off, thinking that I could get away before the cops arrived, but she chased me down the street. Let me tell you, she was fast for 72 years old! It was also raining, so that hindered me a bit. Long story short, she jumped on me and hit me with a curling iron. I was unable to throw her off before the police showed up," Irene finished. She shook her head as a mental image of the old woman screaming '"Repent! Repent, you cheatin' bitch!" came about. The police had pulled the old woman off of her, telling the her to "Let the cheating bitch go."

Sherlock stared at her.

"Are you done?"

"I am. Needless to say, it was not one of my finer hours, and I wanted to forget about it as soon as possible, so I left the states."

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond when the sound of footsteps caught his attention.

"Marie! Sweetheart, what are you doing up?"

The little girl was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at Sherlock and Irene.

Marie shrugged but said nothing.

"She must have heard us talking," Sherlock explained.

Irene smiled at the sight of the little girl.

"Well, introduce us. Who is she?"

"She's my daughter." He turned to look at Marie, who was still standing there. "Come on down, dear. Meet my friend, Irene."

Slowly, Marie made her way down the steps, gripping the railing as she walked. When she finally arrived, she stood next to Sherlock until he picked her up and placed her on his lap.

"Oh, my! I had no idea. Hello, dear," Irene greeted her.

Marie rested her head against Sherlock's shoulder and gave Irene a half-hearted wave.

"She doesn't talk all that much."

"I see. May I ask who the lucky lady is?"

"Hm?"

"Well…" She didn't want to outright explain it in front of the child. Heaven forbid that the girl's mother had been injured or killed, or that she had left Marie and Sherlock behind. "I mean… who's the other… Come on, you know what I'm asking."

"I do. Hold on, let me take her back upstairs."

Sherlock stood up, gathered Marie in his arms and took her back to her bedroom. He tucked her in once again and closed the door before returning to Irene.

"Regarding your question, there is no 'lucky lady'."

"Oh… I'm sorry. Did she… did she pass?" Irene asked. "I mean, I know how dangerous some of your cases can be. Or did she leave?"

"I meant that there is, and never has been a woman involved. I gave birth to Marie."

Now it was Irene's turn to stare.

"I… see. So, are you really not a man, then? You certainly had me fooled."

"No, no. I'm definitely a man, Irene. Come on! Did you not hear of the virus that was causing men to become pregnant? Marie came about because I accidentally came in contact with the blood of a murder victim who was carrying the virus."

"I recall hearing of it briefly. It wasn't covered much on the news in the US. I think the virus was mainly restricted to Europe, was it not?"

"Surprisingly. I believe there were only one or two men in the US who got it."

"So the other parent is dead, then."

"I did say 'murder victim'."

"How… how did you… was she cut out of you?" Irene tried to make sense of it.

"No, I delivered her normally."

"So you're a hermaphrodite, now."

"Erm, no. Everything returned to normal, for lack of better words, after Marie was born."

"Wow."

"It is quite a story," Sherlock admitted.

"To be honest, if anyone else told me it, I'd have not believed them. But you, Sherlock. This seems like just the thing that would happen to you."

Sherlock glared at Irene for a second before pulling himself up.

"Let me go make us some tea, then," He said. "And I'll be sure to lock the kitchen window while I'm at it."