A Study of the Sonata- a Johnlock fic

Part 11:Sonata Martins (Holmes???)

I showed John, Sherlock, and Mycroft my tattoos. One, that I described to John when I was nine years old, the other a reminder of my cousin, and my father figure.

I am still furious. Yet, my temper is calmed and I am leaving. John has Sherlock, and Mycroft has Greg. Music scores go from my hand to my bag. John Lennon, Beethoven, Jerry Lee Lewis, Elton John, The Beatles.... all passing through the air, moved by my hand and shoved into the bag. Then a hand came and rested on mine. The score for "She's Leaving Home" balanced in my hand. Lovely, how ironic. I looked up and Mycroft leaned over me; and swiped one of my tears away.

"Play it!" he whispered to me.

"Why?" I asked, "It's of no consequence now."

"For John."

I nodded, removing my headphones from their jack, and turning up the volume.

"Wednesday morning at five o'clock,
As the day begins...." I sang as my hands moved along the keys, "Silently closing her bedroom door, leaving the note that she hoped would say more, she goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching a hankerchief." at this point I could hear someone playing violin, obviously Sherlock, going along with me. Mycroft is standing behind me, but it is not his hand that is resting on my shoulder and turning the music for me. "She's Leaving home, Bye, Bye." I ended, the violin ending on a beautiful note, and another voice entered the room.

"Brilliant! Smashing! Mycroft, you weren't home and now I see that-" Gregory Lestrade glanced between each of us.

"Gregory, this is my biological niece; and John's goddaughter."

I smiled. "D.I."

"Minuet girl." He nodded.

"Technically it would be Sonata girl." Sherlock said. "and yes, by niece my dearest brother means that she is my biological daughter."

The Detective Inspector looked lost and confused, "Just biological? You aren't proper father and daughter?"

"No" I replied, "I am the daughter of no man. As in the pretense of feelings, I had a father once. I found that I took backseat to masculine killing and danger."

John's hand still rested on my shoulder, and my head fell, then two hands lifted my face up. John's eyes stuck to mine, then he kissed my forehead. "You Sonata Martins, are not pushed back by anything. Like your father here." John patted Sherlock's arm, "There is nothing more important to me than my Sonata, and my Sherlock. There is no comparison to the two of you." John looked down, eyes locking with mine. "I am your dad, just as sure as Sherlock is biologically your father. For God's sake! Sherlock may not have said anything, but he wants to be a father to you too!