A/N- I apologize for the lack of much interesting in this chapter. I just needed to build on Sherlock's feelings for his daughter. Hopefully, next chapter will be more interesting! I've actually already started it! Thanks to all who stick with me, but especially to RainyDays-and-DayDreams and Fangirl-ALL-Things for helping me keep coming back to this story!

Chapter 3- Meeting Elspeth and Surprising Lestrade

Sherlock was walking by the playground in the park when he saw them. John, limping, sad, and heartbreakingly familiar, with the little girl balanced on his good hip. The girl had grown, as little girls are prone to doing. For some strange reason, however, she had grown to look more like him than John.

Against his better judgement, he sat down on a bench to watch them. John let the little girl down and she ran off to the playground as John took out some work. Sherlock smiled as he deduced what had happened- the child had been bored and driven John crazy.

Sherlock looked then at the girl. He felt sympathy bubble up in his chest as he saw her playing on a swing- all alone. He knew the feeling. When he was a small child, the other children hadn't liked him much either. He was the rich brat who knew too much. While this girl was no rich brat, she still knew too much for her own good..

On a whim(very unlike him), he walked over to the little girl who was one of the few people in the world that he loved with all of his heart.

"What's your name?" he asked her. She looked up at him suspiciously. His mind whirred with deductions. Brown hair- curly and messy- unlikely brushed, skin- pale and dirty- playing in dirt and other messy substances, Jumper cuffs- slightly threadbare- a favorite then, wears as often as possible.

Then he saw the bright blue scarf peeking out from under her little black peacoat and almost broke down. The girl was wearing one of his scarves. It enhanced her big blue eyes immensely. Then he was again distracted, this time by her bell-like voice telling him that he was a stranger. He hinted that if she would only tell him her name, then they wouldn't be strangers anymore. She agreed and said, in an adorable, little-girl voice,

"My name's Elspeth Molly Holmes-Watson!"

Sherlock was speechless at how beautifully perfect her name was. Naming her after Molly was an amazing tribute to the woman who chose to bear her, and the hyphenated last name took his breath away. This was HIS daughter. He had lived on in this beautiful girl.

He told her how beautiful it was, but she wasn't fooled. She looked at him and told him how sad he was, and (probably accidentally) how sad John was. She noticed how he'd been ogling London(he'd been abroad destroying Moriarty's web), and how he missed John(and worried for him). She noticed his not sleeping(he had been walking around London in the rain the night before), and was completely frank with him.

He was so proud of her he thought he might burst.

To his surprise, she looked down, upset, and apologized. He realized that, as brilliant as Elspeth was, she had as few friends as he had at her age. He complimented her, much as John had complimented him, and she had reacted in much the same way that he had- shock. He encouraged her to talk, and learned that she'd tried to expose a child's abuse out of compassion and got shunned as a result. His heart went out to her.

When he vocalized his compassion, she surprised him again. In her eyes, there was no way that she was alone. It wasn't weird to her that she only had friends who were adults- that was all she'd ever known. (Sherlock filed her name for Mycroft away to tease him with later. Uncle My-My indeed!) She also mentioned that she did experiments, and Sherlock was ecstatic. He was proud of the one she'd tried to do, he hadn't thought of that one until he was at least six.

Then she added on the bit about John's sadness. Sherlock was again struck by the man's love for him, but this time he was also struck by the depths of his Elspeth's heart. She was exactly like John- all her compassion and love for others leaving nothing for herself. He wanted to comfort her, tell her that Daddy was here and he'd make everything better, but he didn't dare. Only Mycroft knew he was back and that was because, well, he was Mycroft. He comforted her as best as he could, then carefully hid his face as he heard John calling Elspeth.

Before she left, she made Sherlock promise to see her again, which he'd have been glad to do anyway. He decided to cheer her up further before she left.

"Oh, Elspeth?" she stopped and looked back at him. He grinned, "When you put worms in the microwave, they explode."

He was rewarded with a huge return grin that warmed him all the way through. She then ran back toward John and the sanctuary that was Baker St.

Sherlock then made another snap decision(this is so unlike him). He wanted to go talk to Lestrade. He carefully made his way to Scotland Yard and used his most recent of the DI's pilfered ID's to make his way in. Sherlock walked up to DI Lestrade's desk and stopped.

"I'm busy right now, go away," Lestrade growled without looking up. Sherlock glanced at the case file.

"It was Mr. Green, in the ballroom, with the candlestick," he said, half jokingly. Lestrade dropped the file and looked up at Sherlock incredulously.

"Sh-Sherlock?" his eyes were huge.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," Sherlock nodded at the stunned man, "or, as a perfectly lovely four year old I discovered in the park calls you, ' ,'"

"You've met her then?" Lestrade asked seriously, then shook his head, "No, no, no, this is all wrong. You were dead! You jumped off a building for Christ's sake! Almost destroyed John in the process too. Does he know you're here?" Sherlock looked uncomfortable.

"I did meet Elspeth. She's a perfectly wonderful child. And meeting her will give me an opportunity to talk to John before he decides to hate me. She's my in. Her knowing me will also convince John that I'm not a hallucination. And I did jump off a building. I jumped because Moriarty had gunmen on John, Mrs. Hudson, and you. I had to save you, so I made it look as though I had killed myself like Moriarty wanted."

"Me? I understand John and Mrs. Hudson, but me?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes, you," Sherlock smiled slightly.

"Sherlock, your daughter is brilliant," Lestrade said suddenly, "that little four year old is better than most of my agents! Sometimes John brings her here to visit when she's bored, and I give her things to work her brain. Sometimes, she steals cases off my desk when they visit me at home and she brings them back asking me what a large word meant or if I'd seen that little something right there, or something else small that eventually leads to the case being solved. She's so much like you it's funny." Sherlock looked so proud he thought he might explode.

"I can expect your discretion?" was all he said.

"Just this once, Sherlock," Lestrade said. Then he stood up and hugged the now disgruntled consulting detective. Sherlock awkwardly hugged back, then showed himself out. As he left, he thought he heard Lestrade say something strange.

"Welcome back, Sherlock Holmes."