The Life of Sherlocks Daughter

Chapter 1

"There are many stories and legends surrounding the great Sherlock Holmes and let me tell you this, a minute few are true but in the most part they are all false. For starters, yes, he does have his social troubles but he is not in fact heartless. I only know this due to the fact that I met him a few years ago and then I moved in with him on the first day.."

This was the last post that my father's friend, Dr John Watson posted on his blog before he was sent back to Afghanistan. He never returned. This broke my father and he went through the same pain that he had put John through during his 'fall' but he knew that John could never return like he had done.

I should explain that I am in fact the lost Holmes. I was left on the doorstep of 221B when I was just a few hours old. The landlady, Mrs Hudson, found me and took me inside. My mum had left a note with in the basket with me. even with this note to go, the police never did find her and I am grateful as I never want to see her again. The note read:

'I am the daughter of Sherlock Holmes, who to the best of my knowledge, lives here at 221B. My name is TJ. I was born on the 12th November. I am sure that my father will look after me and he can chose whether to put me up for adoption or keep me himself. The choice is his but he must not inform Mycroft of my existence. Please keep me safe and warm and I will be the worlds second Consulting Detective'

My father and Mrs Hudson have only ever told me the story of how I was found but never who my mum is or how Sherlock met her. After years of persistent badgering, my father agreed to tell me the true story on the date of my eighteenth birthday, which is only two years away but a lot can happen in two years.

The story of my discovery isn't very interesting but it is still a story and my therapist told me to write everything down that I could remember, so here goes:

Mrs Hudson had just woken up from her sleep after been disturbed by a certain tenant playing the violin at three in the morning. She doesn't usually go outside or check for the morning paper at this time but today something made her do it. She opened the door and looked out at a sleeping London and there was a slight stirring noise coming from the bottom of the steps. It sounded like a...baby gurgling but surely that couldn't be right, not at three am. Sure enough as she made her way into the empty street, there was a baby basket with a tiny baby inside with a note. As her eyes scanned the note she knew Sherlock had some explaining to do. She carefully carried the basket inside and up the steps to Sherlock's door. The music had stopped but that didn't mean that Sherlock was asleep. After two knocks John, who was still living there at the time, answered the door with a confused look on his face.

"Sherlock? Mrs Hudson wants to see you."

John let the landlady place the basket on the sofa as it was the only place clear and big enough to hold a baby basket securely. "What is it John? I was doing an experiment..." his voice trailed off when he saw the baby on the sofa. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Mrs Hudson cut him off. "This baby was on my doorstep Sherlock and would you like to explain why, being as she's your baby?" John now had two reasons to be shocked, one was how angry Mrs Hudson was and the other reason was apparently Sherlock was a dad.

After a few minuets of stunned silence, Sherlock was the first to speak. "I cannot explain why she was left on your doorstep, Mrs Hudson, but I can explain why she's mine. I had a drunken one night stand a few months ago as part of an under cover case when John was away for a few nights."

The shocked silence filled the room again and this time John spoke up and raised the question "What are we doing with her Sherlock?"