A/N here we go again. Very, very special thanks to Raeya, Stephanie and LaLune221b. Feel hugged. And hello to every new follower and reader.

An accidental visitor of 221B Baker Street might have been very surprised by this memorable afternoon picture. Perhaps not unexpected, but still unusual.
Two men on a couch, apparently naked, wrapped in a blanket.
"Bloody hell," whispered one of them, John Watson.
"I hope that does not mean I wasn´t good. I'm sure, I was. According to your statements during our ..."
"Shut up, Sherlock, don´t spoil it, ok?"
Sherlock decided to do, what John suggested. Exceptionally. He wrapped his long arms around John. It felt good, to hold John close, Sherlock thought.

"You to tell me about the sperm bank, now?" John just had to ask this question, even if Sherlock's thigh was placed on his groin, bringing him to other thoughts, again.
Sherlock chuckled, "You don´t expect me, to do such thing?"
"Actually, there´s nothing I expect you not to do, Sherlock.", John admitted.
Sherlock nodded, "You have your hands full with me sometimes, do you?"
John grinned, "You're usually quite an asshole. But I've got used to it and frankly, I do not want you any other way. Apparently stupid, right?"

"Perceptual disturbances, due to feeling exuberance, John." Sherlock's hand was moving southward, to reinforce the feeling of exuberance a little. John groaned loudly, "Don´t you distract me, Sherlock. I wanna know. And don´t you dare to come up with some rubbish."

Sherlock sat up. "All right, John. I did not lie, earlier. It was because of a case, about four years ago. My client was blackmailed. Someone threatened to make public that his children are not his children. What was the truth, my client is sterile. His wife and he made use of a sperm bank. Which is not reprehensible in itself, I think. "
John nodded in agreement. "Right. You suspected this blackmailer to work in this clinic?"
"Obviously, John. The clientage of this clinic was very exclusive, my former client belongs to the House of Lords."
"Oh, let me guess, one of Mycroft´s buddies?"
"I'm quite sure he would not call him a 'buddy', but yes. In any case, a paradise for blackmailers of any kind. It was a delicate matter, John. I smuggled myself in as a sperm donor and yes ... ... For God´s sake, John. Don´t you look at me like that. Yeah, I've donated and I got the blackmailer arrested. That´s how it went, John."

"But you didn´t have your sample destroyed, if I interpret this correctly, now. Why not, Sherlock?" John wanted to know and noticed in amazement that Sherlock ... was insecure? ... He was playing with the fringes of the blanket.
"It did not seem necessary to me," Sherlock muttered, barely audible and stood up abruptly to go to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and emptied the glass in one gulp.
John remained speechless on the couch until he thought of something. He stood up, wondering briefly if he should wrap himself in the blanket and decided against it. Sherlock was standing bare naked in the kitchen and did not seem to interfere with it.

"Your butt is really more bony than mine," John joked, to loosen the mood a bit. A very small smile crept onto Sherlock's face. John came up behind him and kissed Sherlock's shoulder.
"Talk to me, Sherlock. Don´t keep me on the outside. I don´t know where this is going here, but I am your friend and I'll always be." John stroked Sherlock's back and he turned around.

"I did not let destroy the sample because I could not imagine, someone could pick me, John." John nodded, he had already suspected something like that.

"There's this questionnaire one must fill out about oneself. I ... I've been honest, John. They asked about good and bad qualities. I must not tell you which list was longer." Sherlock's eyes darkened. "I wouldn´t choose me, if I were a woman who is looking for a father for her child. I´d pick someone like you, John. Not an asshole like me." Sherlock sighed softly, to be Gibraltar wasn´t cool at all.

"Molly would choose you, Sherlock. Or Mrs. Hudson and Greg."

John smiled. "And I´d too, somehow. And please take a look at Carys, you´re her knight in a shiny armor. Well, she doesn´t know you that good ... Ouch."

John conceded a slap from Sherlock. John´s revenge was a hearty kiss on Sherlock´s lips.
"What I mean to say, Sherlock," John gasped a long moment later, "maybe you're not the guy for the first look and I think that's a good thing. Because the people who matter, always take another look. And we see something in you, you don´t see in yourself, Sherlock. You don´t even notice, you have it. Among all this scratch coat lies a good man, Sherlock. A good man and father. And, Jesus. I wish I had said this words with at least some clothing on."

Sherlock laughed, "that would have given this speech a little more seriousness, I'm sure. But I understand what you're saying. ... And I... um ... um .. I am ... damn it, John! Do you have to let me stutter around like that? "
John nodded, "I enjoy it, Sherlock."
The Consulting Detective took a deep breath. "I am thankful for you, John. I mean that."

"Sherlock Papa? Carys´s awake! Sherlock Papa?"
"I better look out for her," Sherlock declared and wanted to leave for his bedroom.
"Uh, Sherlock? Not without pants, ok?"
Sherlock looked down at himself. "If I wouldn´t have you." He trudged back into the living room to make himself presentable again.
"Definitely a lot more bony than mine," John murmured at Sherlock's back view.

He followed Sherlock and clawed his clothes, which were scattered in the entire living room. There had been no time to take it slowly and carefully. They had been like starving wolves, falling for each other, violent, greedy, all-encompassing passion. And they had no thought for what was next. However, it wasn´t as convulsively, as John expected it. They would have to set new parameters, no doubt. But not immediately.

Now they had to figure out, if Carys actually was Sherlock's daughter and if so, how Emma´d fit into all this. Sherlock assumed, Emma had money problems. Eventually, she didn´t have them earlier, when this fertility clinic was as exclusive as Sherlock had said before. There were still many uncertainties, John stated and glanced into the bedroom. Sherlock (appropriately dressed) just took Carys on his arm and squeezed her affectionately.

John sighed softly, what if one of these uncertainties was, that Carys wasn´t Sherlock's daughter? How would he react? John sighed again. It would break his heart, for sure.

But there was no sense in further postponing the matter. It was time for the truth, the whole truth.
"We should see Molly at St. Bart's, Sherlock. She can do a DNA comparison." John sat down on Sherlock's bed.
"This is hard, John." Sherlock sat down with Carys beside him. "You know, I was pretty sure, she´s mine. From the very first moment. What if this is just wishful thinking, John? What if ... Oh wait. Dresser, lowest drawer. How could I even forget? Go see, John. There's an envelope with old photos. There have to be some of me, in Carys age. "

John rummaged in the drawer and the first thing he found, was a pack of cigarettes. "This is confiscated, Sherlock, that is clear to you, right?" Sherlock shrugged, there were other hiding places.

"This one, you mean?" John sat down again.

"What in it?" Carys wanted to know.

"A few pictures of Sherlock Papa, little one.", John explained.
"Sherlock Papa? Carys want´s to see." Sherlock caressed her cheek, "shortly, love. Come on now, John. Hurry up"

John grinned, "So the impatience is very similar." He took the pictures from the envelope and had to laugh. "Oh, Shit. Is that Mycroft? Has not changed to his advantage, I would say." Then his eyes fell on an image, no doubt Sherlock. He was hugging a bear, very fierce. This had to be the one, Mycroft had tied to the rocket. John took a very close look at the picture. Then he looked at Carys. Then again at the photo.
"John, please." Sherlock growled.
"Hm," John scratched his head, "if this girl isn´t a real, little Holmes, then I don´t know who is."