Thank you for the review! :) Wasn't expecting one so soon lol. Started this plot bunny in my head at work. Its gonna be quite a journey. :)
Chapter Two
Sherlock chanced a glance in Laura's direction during the ride back to Baker St. How could one child sleep so much? Miss Newland said she had slept the entire flight, and now, she was curled into a fetal ball at the side of the car sleeping soundly. Perhaps he had passed down most of his need for that particular time wasting function into her.
Sliding his gaze away from her to the window, he barely heard the conversation going on quietly in the car. Lestrade was going on about paperwork, Mycroft assuring him he would "handle" it. John stayed silent, but instinctively put a hand out now and then stroking Laura's back. But Sherlock could feel John's eyes directed at him. And he wasn't happy.
What did he expect?
Biting that remark down onto his tongue, he thought about how different his life was just a few short days ago, when Mycroft sauntered into the house and pronounced his fatherhood.
"You sure it is his? Yes, of course you are or you wouldn't be here. " John said into the silence when Sherlock said nothing. " Darcy Huntsworth. One of your homeless network? "
Sherlock simply shook his head. He remembered Darcy alright. She was one of his suppliers. She was a lovely thing. Her parents had died when she was 16, scuttled from one home to another, and abused in every possible way. And so she took off to the streets to find some way to support herself. She was strong willed to a point. Sherlock had seen many women out there with similar experiences who took to prostitution. Darcy refused to. When she finally found heroine at 19, it gave her the only comfort she had in her life. She was
She would sit quietly and listen, really listen to Sherlock. He needed that. To unload without comment from inferior intellects.
Then, one night, she asked him a favor.
It was raining, he recalled. They were huddled under a small bridge, he couldn't recall exactly where. Odd. She had built a small fire for warmth.
"Sherlock. I need to ask you to do something for me. "
"What? " He asked while pulling the strap tight on his arm. He stopped when she softly put her hand over it.
"I need you semi straight for this. You have time for it later. "
Curiosity up, Sherlock stared at her, trying to deduce what she could want.
"I... don't think live long enough to see 21. Just call it a hunch. " She smiled sadly.
"Even I cannot deduce..."
"Sherlock, do be quiet for one moment! " She whispered harshly, but the look in her eyes belied her roughness.
"Fine. "
"I want to have some good memories to take with me. Wherever I am going. I sit in the park when it is nice out. I watch the people. I am so envious Sherlock. Its like they know things I never will. I want to have a little. Just a little. "
"Meaning? "
"What was done to me... I know that isn't the way it should be. " She said, tears forming in her eyes.
He knew within minutes of meeting her that she had been abused in her past. There was no question. He had no room in his brain for useless sentiments, generally, but he did have small bouts of sympathy. And a sense of right and wrong on occasion.
"Sherlock, I need to feel something good for once. Just once. And by MY choice. And I choose you. "
Before Sherlock could ask her what she was on about, she placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him sweetly on the mouth.
"Show me something different. Please... "
Sherlock stared down at Darcy. She was always there when he needed her. Always with a fresh needle even if she had to steal it. Always there to listen. Even when he was less than nice in what he said.
Always.
She asked nothing of him. Until now.
Scuttling doubts from his mind he decided it was the least he could do for her.
He made love to her, slowly, letting her direct the pace and position. He took special care to see to her needs. Made sure she experienced all the good things it offered before he allowed his own release.
He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when he woke, she was gone. A small not simply saying "Thank you, Sherlock. " was all she left behind. He was uncertain if he would ever see her again.
He was, however, certain he had the sense to wear a condom.
Leave it to him to be one of the 1% of a chance sperm that wouldn't stay put.
They arrived at the flat, and Laura had still not stirred. John had bundled her up in the blanket and carried her up the stairs, placing her on the couch. They weren't really prepared for another person living there. Sherlock told him to place her in his room, as he rarely used it anyway. But John firmly told him this would be scary enough for a small child. Better she wakes up to semi familiar faces than to an unknown room all alone.
Within minutes, Laura woke up, as alert as if she'd been awake the whole time.
"Well, now, did you sleep well? " John asked, the Cheshire smile returning.
Laura merely nodded. All the adults but her father stared at her. The latter simply stood by the window staring out.
Mycroft said something that drew attention, so Laura grew bored quickly. She slid off the couch and walked about taking in her surroundings. Finally, she scanned the books, took one and sat back down on the couch.
After a moment, John noticed her and put his hand on the book.
"Sorry, sweetie. Your dad is very particular about his books. He wouldn't like you playing with them without permission. " He said kindly.
Laura graced him with a look just like her father got. It spoke without words...
Are you an idiot?
"I wasn't playing with it. I am reading. I don't like fairy tales anymore. I prefer truth."
John gave her a patronizing look before reaching for the book again.
"You are four years old. I hardly think that ... "
Laura pulled the book away again, and with a sigh, read several lines out of the book.
"How the...how long have you been able to read? "
"Since I was three. I can also tell you what all of it means, if you'd like. I can also write, but not as well. "
"4 year olds usually only know the ABC's and some numbers and... "
Laura placed the book down and stared him straight in the eyes. Mycroft and Gloria also stared, open mouthed.
"My name is Laura Beth Huntsworth. My mother was Darcy Helena Huntsworth. My Aunt was Lucy Marie Dettle. I was born in Yonkers, New York. My birthday July 23rd 2009. I currently reside at 221 B Baker street with my father, Sherlock Holmes and his friend John Watson. A doctor, apparently. From what I have learned none of this is average full information before primary school, you call it? "
"Uh...well...wait. How did you know the address? You were asleep when we brought you in here. "
"I noticed the letters on the counter. " She answered with a small shrug.
"And about me being a doctor? " John sat back, smiling.
" My...uncle...keeps calling you Doctor Watson. Not a difficult assumption, then?" She said, with a raise of her brows.
John placed a hand on the side of his face and chuckled at her gumption. Mycroft simply blinked at her, while Gloria beamed at the girl with pride.
Sherlock, unseen to anyone, actually smirked.