I do not own BBC Sherlock
.o0Sherlock0o.
Sherlock and I somehow became a couple. Not the sappy, 'Oh darling, I love you' kind of couple though, mind you. But we where officially in a relationship. No one really knew. Lestrade had thought we were joking and still made comments that even I had to admit where pretty funny, but Sherlock didn't like being teased. Mycroft was even desperately trying to figure out if we were together. For a month straight Sherlock had to scower the house every day for a new recorder or camera. We shared kisses, and snogged when Sherlock wanted too. But we never made the final step. Sex.
"Where could the pricks have come from?" I asked, sitting on the couch. Sherlock had his fingers steepled. His eyes where narrow as he thought. He was in his mind palace, or at least I thought he was.
"Papa, can we go shopping for presents?" Scarlett asked, climbing into my lap. I nodded, stroking her hair.
"Sure, let's go." I said. At the store Scarlett waked up and down the isles I led her to. She didn't have any interest in the dolls or princess sets.
"What is it you're looking for?" I asked, her hand clutched mine as she lowered her eyes. Christmas was in a few weeks, we'd yet to get presents.
"I don't know." She said shyly. We passed the boys section and I saw her eyes lock onto a fake pirate sword.
"A pirate sword?" I asked, she looked at me in terror before quickly ducking her head.
"That's a boys toy." She snapped, the older she got the more her mannerisms became like Sherlocks. The authority in her voice, the sharpness in her eyes was becoming more and more like him.
"I play tea party with you. That doesn't make me a girl, does it?" I asked, crouching down to her level. She tugged at my sleeve, and poked out her bottom lip.
"No." She said slowly. I frowned, dragging my thumb over her plump cheek.
"What's wrong, who told you that you couldn't play with boy toys?" I asked, she shuffled her feet, sighing.
"Georgie and Trenton where both calling me names for playing with their pirate ships." She said softly, looking anywhere but my eyes. I frowned, the boys where Lestrade's two rambunctious twins.
"Don't listen to them, sweetie. You can play with any toy you like. I played dolls with my sister when I was little, she used to tease me too. But I loved playing with her because we had fun together. Don't let anyone tell you that you can't play with something because it's for a boy or girl." I said, brushing a lock from her face. She smiled, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
"I love you, Papa." She said gently. I returned the hug, kissing her cheek.
"I love you too, mon cherie." I grinned, she winced at my terrible french accent and chastised me the rest of our shopping trip.
"Three major macromolecules essential in all lifeforms?" Sherlock asked aloud. Scarlett was sitting on the edge of the table cluttered kitchen table. Lab experiments where littered all over it. Her legs dangled, and my shirt hung from her slim shoulder sloppily. She kicked her feet, thinking before answering.
"DNA, RNA, and proteins." She answered. Sherlock looked up from his microscope to give her a dull look.
"Be serious." He said in annoyance. She flushed and quickly fixed her answer. I looked up from my over my cup, scowling.
"Ribonucleic acid and-and Deoxyribonucleic acid?" She fumbled, straining against her french vowels. Sherlock gave her a satisfied nod, not looking up.
"The heaviest stable atoms mass?" He questioned. He frowned when she paused.
"You can't be serious. I don't even know that!" I snapped. Sherlock slide an impatient glance to his daughter.
"I knew that when I was half her age." He answered, twisting a knob on his microscope. Scarlett bit her lip.
"She's four!" I snorted. He looked up at me dully.
"Exactly." He sat up straight, giving her his undivided attention. She looked away from his gaze, frantic for the answer.
"Lead-208." She answered. He blew out a puff of air in irritation.
"The weight, Scarlett, not the matter." He said, his scolding gaze fixed on her. She closed her eyes concentrating for a moment before snapping them open with a bright smile.
"207.9766521 u." She chirped. Sherlock offered her a smile, ducking back down to his microscope.
"Very good." He commented, and I'd thought she might swoon off the table.
"This is my daughter. Scarlett Watson." I said, looking down at the tiny old woman. She smiled at me, her winkled eyes shining blue.
"What a pretty girl." The woman gurgled, Scarlett ignored the compliment. She was far more concerned with the vague comments her father gave her on her intellect, she cared far more about her intelligence than her looks. She was a Holmes down to the core.
"I'd like to enroll her into Kindergarden." I said, her hand clutched my sleeve. Her face partially hidden behind my thigh.
"Of course, let me get you the forms." The old woman wobbled away. I leaned against the counter, and Scarlett tugged on my sleeve.
"I don't want to go to a German garden." She said, her slender eyebrows knitting together. I blinked, was kinder German?
"You have too, it's important you learn so you can become an intelligent adult like your father." I said. Sherlock and I had decided it was best that Scarlett be enrolled under my name, Holmes was a very dangerous and rare last name. If anyone found out who she belonged too, the results could be devastating.
"Daddy can teach me." She said, reaching up for me to lift her in my arms. Picking her up I set her on the counter, she refused to let go of my hands.
"Don't you want to play with other kids?" I asked, and she scowled.
"No." She said, I rolled my eyes. She liked Jenny, but she wasn't fond of the Lestrade's rowdy sons. One boy she liked, I think his name was Toby. He was the quietest and youngest of the boys.
"Jenny goes to this school, at lunch you can play with her." I tried. The clinic I worked at was also right down the road, I could come and pick her up within a few minutes if needed.
"I want to stay with you and Daddy." She said firmly. I lifted my eyes heavenward, stubborn as her father.
"Here you go, Mr. Watson." The old woman's shaky voice pulled me from my thoughts. I thanked her.
Her first day of school I dressed her in a comfortable and pretty light blue dress which brought out the color of her eyes. Wrapping her in a black coat I pulled a white scarf around her neck, adding a ribbon in her hair. She did love ribbons.
"Look how beautiful you are." I grinned. Her thick eyelashes fluttered over her stunning glassy eyes. Red lips pursed as I put on her shoes, she hated shoes. She would run around London barefoot if I let her. She glanced in the mirror.
"I don't want to go." She said, pouting. I was glad she was speaking her mind more, but the obedience had been nice.
"I know, but it's a part of growing up." I said, buttoning her coat. She glared at the ground, taking my hand.
"Sherlock, let's go." I called. He didn't look up from the file in his lap.
"I'm not going." He said flatly, I felt my hand clench and quickly released Scarlett.
"Scarlett, why don't you go down to the cafe and get a scone?" I asked. She nodded, trotting down the stairs.
"This is your daughters first day of school, you are going." I snapped, throwing his coat over his lap, along with his scarf. He shoved them both off the files, continuing his reading. Reaching down I pulled them from his lap. He caught my wrist, his eyes flaming.
"Don't interrupt my work." He snarled in my face. Some boyfriend he was. I jerked from his hold, crouching before him like I did with Scarlett when I needed to explain something to her.
"This is your daughters only first day of school she will ever have. She is scared and she needs both of us there with her. Do you understand how important this is, Sherlock?" I asked, my voice straining to relay this very important, if not pedestrian matter to him. He didn't grasp concepts like this. It wasn't his area.
"She'll have a thousand days in school. Three thousand five hundred and ten to be exact. Not including the days she may take off for illness or trips. I don't see how today is important." Sherlock protested. I rubbed my temples, resting my hands on his knees I leaned up. Carefully I pressed my lips to his, he leaned forward trying to follow me as I sat back on my heels.
"It's important, to both of us that your are there. Please come, Sherlock." I murmured. His eyes scanned mine like a computer would a virus. He tilted his head a fraction, pulling up his jacket and scarf.
"Shall we?" He said, dropping his head to catch another kiss before walking swiftly passed me.
"Oh God, I'm nervous." I tapped my fingers repeatedly over my thigh, listening to the young teacher blabber on and on about how she would teach the kids. Sherlock was watching Scarlett out the large window. I followed his gaze. Two little boys where pulling on the ribbon I put in her hair, laughing as she covered her red face in embarrassment. Of course she would be tormented, she was the most stunning little girl there.
I stood abruptly, causing my chair to screech back. Sherlock gripped my arm, hauling me back into my seat as everyone went quiet t stare at us for a moment before returning to the nonsense speech.
"She's being bullied!" I hissed through clenched teeth. I was not above knocking a little snot nosed runt flat on his ass, and I fully intended too when Sherlock released me. Jenny and Lestrade weren't there for the orientation, since Jenny was a already in second grade.
"She can handle it herself." Sherlock said coldly. I let my mouth fall open in disbelief. Scarlett was too young, too shy to possibly fight back. Sherlock didn't know how sweet and innocent she was, sure she was spunky sometimes but she was still learning. He didn't understand. I almost screamed at him when another little boy came up. He looked older than the others, perhaps Jenny's age. He appeared casual as he nodded to the boys, speaking to Scarlett in what appeared a calm voice. Her shoulders straightened and she turned to the boys, obviously yelling at them. They turned, walking away while shooting daggers over their shoulders. I relaxed into my seat.
"Thank God." I sighed, silently thanking the boy who'd come to help her toughen up. He was a handsome lad. Short brown-blonde hair stuck up messily, his brown eyes where soft but had been hard earlier as he approached the group. Sherlock was tense as he looked at the boy, his eyes scanning.
"What's wrong?" I asked Sherlock. Sherlock shook his head, the boy glanced through the window where Scarlett was pointing at the both of us. With his hands stuffed into his jean pockets and the half smile he gave, I suddenly had a flash of recognition but it quickly vanished. He looked like somebody I knew.
"Nothing, just the lighting." Sherlock said, reclining back in his seat.
Christmas was in a few days and I'd yet to get Scarlett the sword she wanted or the chemistry set from Sherlock for her. For Sherlock I was getting Molly's permission for him to have four hours with a cadaver, and a couple of vials of diseased blood I had managed to swipe from work for him to examine. A huge case was still going on. The man with the flower scented hands was surrounded in mystery. Sherlock had of course sent the Police to the flower shops, while the real flowers had been from the nearby countryside. He was sure that he had almost discovered the truth. We'd taken a road trip, the three of us.
"Are we almost there?" Scarlett asked for the thousandth time.
"No." Sherlock answered in annoyance, his knees tucked up to his chin. Scarlett flopped over in the back seat, whining.
"Papa, I'm hungry." She called, unlike her father her appetite was borderline shocking. She was an endless pit.
"Sherlock, will you get her the mix in the bag at your feet." I asked, keeping my eyes on the road. Sherlock glanced down, ignoring me.
"Sherlock." I warned. He sighed heavily, as if I was asking him to take on a huge burden. He rifled through the bag, pulling out the mix.
"Sherlock, look." I gasped, causing him to look up. A group of men where waiting in large black vans on the secluded road, blocking us from going further. Sherlock's breath became rapid.
"Turn around John." Sherlock ordered, the road was narrow. I managed it barely. We drove as fast as we could. The men pulled out a a strange gun I didn't recognize.
"Sherlock!" I screamed. It was the war all over again. Screaming, pain, burning. The crunch of metal screeched in my ears. The world vanished to black. What felt like days later, I opened my eyes, my ears ringing.
"Daddy." A soft voice sobbed. I looked up, clutching my head. The car was just a crushed form of metal, smoking and burning. Scarlett's tee shirt was blood and ripped. Her shorts stained and her knees where caked in the oil from the crushed car she'd climbed out of. Sherlock was bleeding from his head, his lip busted and his eyes closed. his face was heavily bruised.
"Sherlock." I rasped, scrambling over to him. I pressed my fingers into his neck, Scarlett clung to my arm, sobbing.
"I'm scared." She cried, rocking against my arm.
"It's okay, he's just unconscious." I croaked, sulfur sticking in my throat as I carefully maneuvered her out of the way.
"I have to stop the bleeding Scarlett, everything will be okay." I told her, but I could barely see through my tears. Sherlock looked broken. His usually graceful body was angled oddly. The smoke from the wreckage burned my eyes. I checked for fractures, his arms and legs were fine. His rib was bruised, I could tell by his strained breathing. A small noise caught my attention.
"Scarlett, it'll be ok-" I stood up whirling around. I placed my legs on either side of Sherlock's torso, crouching over him like a protective animal while I pulled the gun from the back of my pants.
"Let her go." I rasped, feeling my hands tremble. The gun rattled against my finger tips. The man held her to his chest, two more burly men on either side. All three had guns aimed at me.
"I don't think so. You've been meddling, our boss doesn't like prying." That sounded familiar. Moriarty. I was shaking.
"Put her down, and we won't ever come after you again." I whispered, my throat raspy from the smoke and sobbing. Scarlett was crying, her tears leaving trails down her pale cheeks. She looked so little and fragile in the goons arms. His hand was clamped harshly over her mouth.
"I don't think so, we might need some insurance. Sherlock Holmes isn't exactly known for cooperating." The man shouldered the girl, turning around. I ran forward but the guns clicking stopped me. The smoke rolled into my throat, gagging me.
"That's my daughter, he won't care if you take her. I'm his lover, take me." I lied, my voice frantic enough for them to belief me. The man glanced between me and her. He pulled his hand off her mouth for a second.
"Papa!" She screamed, scrambling against the mans hold to reach me. I felt myself go slack, thank god she said that. Sherlock's face was bloodied enough where they wouldn't recognize the resemblance. We'd done a good job of keeping Sherlock's daughter a secret from criminals. We played it off that she was Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter. But we couldn't keep the secret for long.
"Take me, he'll do anything you want if you have me." I said, dropping the gun to the ground. I walked forward and the men released her. She ran back to Sherlock, and I was lead to the car.
"Papa!" She cried, torn between staying with her injured father or chasing me.
"Stay there Scarlett! Stay there!" I screamed over my shoulder. The men stuffed me into the dark van, separating me from my family.