Cecilia Holmes, Daughter of Minerva (Sherlock/Percy Jackson crossover)

Epilogue

A few days later, Wednesday afternoon, to be exact, I was in London, England, with Mr. And Mrs. Jackson.

I stood in front of a sturdy, black door that read 221b in metal lettering.

"Are you sure you're all right doing this by yourself?"

I looked back at Annabeth and nodded.

"I will be fine," I replied, seriously.

"We'll be in the cafe next door if you need us," Percy said, kindness in his eyes.

"Thank you," I said, stepping up to the door. They walked over into the cafe, and I waited until the door shut behind them before knocking.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Here we go.

I knocked.

A moment later, Mrs. Hudson answered the door.

"Hello dear, what can I do for you?" she asked.

"Hi," I greeted, smiling with relief. "Does... does Sherlock Holmes still live here?"

"Oh yes, he lives just upstairs. Please, come in," she replied. I entered into the hall and she shut the door behind me. I smiled at the little girl who stood just inside.

"Hello," I greeted, waving at her. She smiled back at me.

"I'll be right back, dearie," Mrs. Hudson said to her. "You stay right there."

"Yes, Messes Hudshon!" the little girl replied, folding her hands together. I giggled as I followed Mrs. Hudson up the stairs.

"Good girl!" the older woman said to the toddler.

"Mr. And Mrs. Watson are here visiting and that's their little girl. I'm looking after her while they visit, though I'm sure they won't mind the interruption if you're one of Sherlock's clients. Are you a client?" she asked.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," I replied.

When we reached the top of the stairs, she knocked, but then walked in without waiting for a response.

"Sherlock? There's a client here to see you," she announced.

"Wonderful, Mrs. Hudson! Send him in! I haven't had an interesting client in days," a man said, and I recognized the voice.

"I thought you said the client you helped yesterday was interesting," Mr. Watson replied.

"Was that only yesterday? It feels like an eternity," Sherlock complained. Mrs. Hudson gestured for me to enter. I walked past her and heard her going back down the stairs.

I looked at the three people who sat in the cluttered room with confidence. Sherlock looked me up and down, and I wondered what he had deduced about me this time.

"Hello," he greeted, standing. "I am Sherlock Holmes. How can I help you?"

"I'm not here about a case, Mr. Holmes, but I'm sure you realize that already," I said, holding out my hand. He took it.

"Who are you?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"My name is Cecilia, and I'm your daughter."