Elizabeth Watson (John Watson's daughter- Sherlock fan fiction)

Chapter 8- Something Special

Some people could be intimidated by the sound of utter silence, but sometimes Elizabeth appreciated it. She opened her eyes and looked at the clock beside her bed. It continued to stumble and to hurry on, but if she closed her eyes once more, she could pretend that time was not passing and that the world was all her own.

Putting in the hearing air was like resurfacing after submersion below the sea. The first noise she heard on this morning was the floating of the violin music and Elizabeth thought that was nice.

She swung her legs over the bed and got herself dressed quietly. Then she tiptoed through the flat and listened outside the door. They were all in there.

The girl poked her head slowly around the door and caught her father's eyes. His face lit up and he leapt from his seat.

"Happy Birthday Liz!" he cried, embracing her as she moved in the room. She beamed with pleasure and laughed at his enthusiasm. Then he stepped back and held her shoulders at arm's length. He looked at her face and Elizabeth thought his expression could not have been any wider.

He then let go of her and stepped forward so that his face was close to hers. He lifted his hand behind her ear before sweeping it back.

"Look what I found behind your ear." he whispered, holding out a small, rectangular present, wrapped in blue, striped paper.

"You know I'm too old for that trick now Dad." joked Elizabeth sarcastically, "I'm fifteen!"

"Ohhh, don't remind me." smiled John, "I feel so old. Here, open it." He gestured to the present in his hand and she took it. Walking over to the table, Elizabeth placed it on the surface and came down to squat before it. She put her face close and eyed the wrapping.

"Hmm." she muttered, looking all around, "I think it's a football."

John let out a laugh.

"It's not a football." said Sherlock, who was playing his violin in the corner.

But they just ignored him.

"Maybe another guess." joked John.

Elizabeth smiled.

"No seriously." she said, "It's something handheld- it's the same size as my hand." she scooped the present up and stood to her full height once more. She ran her eyes along the edges and corners, inspecting the cellotape, "Didn't take you long to wrap, did it Dad?"

"Oh get on with it Nosey Parker." John laughed.

Mrs Hudson, who had yet to speak, stood up straight from where she had been sweeping the floor.

"Yes Eliza, you're getting into bad habits- like that good-for-nothing detective over there." she said gesturing to Sherlock.

Elizabeth smiled and placed her fingers against the folds of the paper. She sliced through them and the tape came away easily. She let the weight of the object role through her palm and into it tumbled a box. Upon it was written 'Skipper- a sailor's companion'.

She carefully placed the paper to the side and prized open the lid.

Out slid a large, blue pen knife.

Her face lit up and her eyes grew wide as she embraced her father in delight.

"You have to be careful with it." he said, "You aren't really meant to have one at fifteen but..."

"I LOVE it Dad!" Elizabeth squealed, flicking open the tools and blades.

"Well I guessed you could take it on ship if you ever did join the navy."

Tap, tap, tap went the little pocketknife as flashes of metals flicked in and out of their case.

"Be careful there Dear." said Mrs Hudson, "You keep an eye on her John or I'll end up with two people using knives to dissect human remains on my kitchen table."

"Oh it won't come to that." reassured John, his face plastered with pleasure.

"Sherlock?" called Mrs Hudson. The music stopped, "Are you going to give Eliza your present now?"

Elizabeth looked up in surprise. Then she looked at her Dad and his expression held a wry smile. He must have helped Sherlock buy her something.

When she turned back, Sherlock was stood almost directly before her, a parcel, wrapped delicately in dull-brown paper, was held lightly at his fingertips.

He handed it to her.

John coughed.

"Happy Birthday." said Sherlock, quickly and quietly.

Elizabeth looked at him with suspicion.

She took the parcel and felt its weight- it was something special.

Once again, she sliced through the wrapping (which was much neater this time). The shape was peculiar and delicate and when the paper fell away, Elizabeth gasped in excitement.

"Sherlock! Thank you so much!" she cried, flinging herself around him in a hug. His arms were lifted above his shoulders and he didn't know where to put them. He looked to John for help but the man just laughed.

"This is absolutely perfect." said Elizabeth as she drew back. She touched the smoothened wood and slicing strings and she smelt the finished surface.

The violin made her feel like royalty.