And Chapter number 7! This one gets really interesting... stay tuned, I'm writing chapter 8 as I typed this one up!
"Hello, Sophie." Sherlock Holmes stands on your doorstep, looking hardly older than 40, but you know he would be 46. He is smiling, but you can't tell if he's forcing it or not. You slap him hard across the face.
"What the hell? Is this a joke?" you scream at him. A passing neighbor looks at you strangely, so you pull Sherlock inside by his scarf.
"Ow!" He rubs his face.
"Fifteen years! For fifteen years I have been waiting for you to call me back, but you didn't/ They said you jumped off a fucking roof! Where the hell have you been?" you slap him again.
"Would you please stop!" Sherlock holds his hands out to block any more attacks on his face. "I faked my death because Moriarty was at large! I never called you because I loved you too much to see you get hurt again!"
"For fifteen years? Why did you even come back!" you yell at him.
"Moriarty is dead, Sophie, and his network is finally gone. He was going to kill everyone I loved and was friends with if I didn't do something!"
"One call–"
"Would have put your life at risk." He lifts up your hands, and you feel light and giddy, just as you would when you were in a relationship with him. "Did you at least live a good life?"
"No! I mean, yes, but it was very hard!" you shake your finger at him. All of the sudden, he gets his "detective face," and he looks around your foyer.
"There's a pair of shoes by the door, but they're not your size; these are 8's and you're a 9; multiple coats, suggesting that more than just you live here, also multiple hats," he enters the living room, which is adjacent to the foyer. "There are papers, school papers, on the coffee table; grading papers, possibly, I assume she works at a school."
"Who works at a school?"
"Your girlfriend, you're in a relationship!"
"Lillian isn't my girlfriend!" you laugh. "Why would she ever be my girlfriend? I'm not in a relationship, not for fourteen years!" you keep laughing at how absurd the idea was to you, as you hold onto your robe tighter as you step around the couch to pick off a picture frame from the fireplace mantle. You bring it back to Sherlock. "Lillian is my daughter."
He looks at the photograph. It's of you and Lillian, smiling while on the beach. Lillian has your build, but her cheekbones are pronounced, eyes a pale blue instead of hazel, her hair is long and wavy like yours, but black as night.
"Lillian is also your daughter." You say, taking the photograph back from a very shocked looking Sherlock.
"What." He follows you to the fireplace mantle, where you put the frame back.
"She'll actually be home in an hour, if you want to talk to her."
"I don't have a daughter." He nervously laughs.
Oh please, Sherlock, grow up! We had a daughter. You faked your death when I was two months pregnant. John, Mary and Mycroft all know she's yours. Now get a grip, for god's sake, I'm the one who raised her for fifteen years!"
Sherlock sits down. You sit down next to him, and snake your hand into his. He laces his fingers with yours.
"It really sucked not having you here." You finally say. He doesn't reply. "I was made Prime Minister, served a full term. I didn't run again, just became a stay-at-home mum. I got to help her through a lot. She's a sociopath, like you. Got friends, though. She's out with them now."
"Does she know about me?"
"Only that you died. She doesn't know why; I didn't tell her. I don't believe that you're a fake. John explained a lot at the wedding. Mary an' him got married about two years after you faked your death."
"I did it for you. I mean–I didn't call you, for you, to save you, from me; well, from the danger I get into."
"I know." You say. Standing up, you let go of Sherlock's hand. "I'm going to get dressed. Don't want Lillian to come home to her mum in a bathrobe and a man calling himself her dead dad." You laugh as if it were a joke. You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, then your ensuite, then your closet. Pulling on some jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan, you speed back down the stairs to find that Sherlock was no longer in the living room. You hear the coffee maker whirring. You're thankful that your hair hasn't gone gray yet, because you still look young and flirty in your fit body. The jeans definitely show how you have kept in shape.
When you enter the kitchen, you see that Sherlock has removed his big coat and scarf. He's wearing a "Sherlock classic": black suit and dark blue silk button up, no tie. His body too has remained slim and ageless, but his hair as become salt and peppery, the pure midnight black curls a thing of the past.
"You look fit for 42."
"I'm liking the salt and pepper hair." You lean your back on the edge of the counter. He hands you a mug of steaming black coffee.
"I may show age, but I've never felt it." He scoffs, and drinks his coffee. "Does she do well in school? Lillian, I mean?"
"She skipped 3 grades. Would be a freshman in high school, but she's in the senior class. Got accepted to oxford, full ride for science. She has your brains, I'll tell you that."
"Good, I would settle for no less."
"Even if she were a straight F student you would still settle for her." You glare at him.
Moving slowly, Sherlock sets his coffee on the counter, then takes your coffee from your hands and sets it on the counter behind you. With gentle hands, he slowly pulls you closer to him by your hipbones. You feel your old love and passion for him as he pulls you in for a soft kiss. You place your hands at the base of his neck, pressing your lips further into his. Your fingers twine with his curly hair, while his hands move to your lower back, pulling your body further into his.
As your passion is transferred between two lips, you hear a familiar voice:
"Mum?"
Sherlock immediately steps back, as you whip your head to see Lillian looking at you, mouth wide open.
"Lillian." You breathe, running your fingers through your hair. Sherlock readjusts his suitcoat.
"Mum. Who is this?" She points an accusing finger towards Sherlock, and after looking at him, she gasps and staggers backwards. You run to her, and hold her before she falls. "No! He's dead! You said he was dead!"
"Lilly, Lilly," you both sink to your knees, Lillian clinging to you, while you rub her back. Her head is buried in the crook of your neck. "Calm down. Lilly, its okay."
"He's alive."
"I know sweetie." Lillian pulls herself away from you.
"How long have you known?"
"He only came to the house less than an hour ago." You smile, and run your thumb over your daughter's cheek. You pull her up, and reach behind you for Sherlock's hand. He takes it, and you pull him to you and Lillian. "Lilly, this is your father; Sherlock, this is your daughter, Lillian."
Lillian reaches out to touch Sherlock's face, but she shrinks away. Her face soon fills with rage.
"You abandoned me! You abandoned mum! You left her to have a baby all on her own, you arrogant git!" she screams at him, then runs from the kitchen.
"Lilly!" you call after her. Sherlock moves, but you stop him. "Stay here." You demand, coldly.
You run up to the 2nd floor, where Lillian's room is. She's locked the door.
"Lilly, can I come in?" you knock on the door softly.
"Is the male that provided the sperm for my creation with you?"
"No." You say through the door. There's a click and it's unlocked. You open the door and close it behind you. Lillian is already in the corner by the window; sitting in the 1960's egg chair she had begged you to get her.
"Why is he here?" she speaks through tear soaked eyes.
"Before I knew I was pregnant with you, there was a, crazy, man named Jim Moriarty. He hated your father, tried to kill him many times. He even tried to kill me. Your father was badly hurt, and he felt that he needed to stay away from me to keep me safe. Neither of us knew about you at the time. He faked his own death to save a lot of peoples' lives. For fourteen years he had to take down Moriarty's network, and prove himself innocent. But he's here now, and that's all that matters." You kneel down in front of her. "Lilly, he did it to save my life. Our lives. He may be an arrogant git, but the man has a heart."
"How can you just let him back into your life like this?"
"Because I love him, Lilly." You take your daughter's hand. "And he loves me. I never stopped loving him, and if you let him, he can love you too."
"But–"
"He has done nothing but good for this world, Lilly." You say sternly. "And you're listening at the door, aren't you?"
"That would be correct." Sherlock's deep voice comes from the other side of the door.
"Can he come in?" you ask Lillian quietly. She nods, and wipes away tears. Her facial expression returns to it's normal coldness. You stand up, and open the door. Sherlock enters, and crosses slowly to Lillian. He stops about 5 feet from her.
"So do you expect me to call you 'father' now?" Lillian crosses her arms.
"Lillian Holmes Calder, you do not sass." You scold her.
"Holmes?" Sherlock looks at you.
"I thought you were dead." You mutter. He simply nods, then looks down to Lillian.
"I don't expect you to accept me as your father, just accept me as a human being who will be living in your house and marrying your mother."
"What?" both you and Lillian look at him with raised eyebrows. Not an ideal proposal, but one nonetheless.
"Well, I did impregnate you and leave you waiting for me for fifteen years."
"Good enough for me."
"Are you serious mum? And you, 'father,' have you even told Uncle John that you're around? What about Uncle Mycroft and Uncle Greg?"
"Lestrade?" Sherlock turns to you with raised eyebrows.
"Long story." You say, planning to tell him later. "Lilly, why don't we talk more about this later? I think Sherlock needs to go talk to your uncles and aunt."
"Too late, already invited them to dinner tonight." He says, tapping in the keyboard of his mobile.
"Can I please have a few hours before I'm forced into a family reunion?"
"Of course." You kiss Lillian's forehead, and pull Sherlock out of her bedroom. When you close the door behind you, you go up to the 3rd floor, where your bedroom, bathroom, and closets are. "Okay, we have four hours until I need to start making dinner for guests I didn't invite." You open your bedroom door.
"Use the time to catch up?" Sherlock looks at you seductively.
"What else for?" you smile, and Sherlock picks you up, as so you wrap your legs around his waist. The two of you close the door behind you, to keep Lillian from hearing you "catching up"