The Life of Sherlocks Daughter

Chapter 4

Sherlock returned 5 hours late with a black eye and a cut on his lip. He never got into fights without reason and I knew he hadn't gone after my...assailant as he hadn't had time to process the DNA which he hadn't even collected from under my fingernails. When Sherlock returned, I had been asleep until I heard shouts from John in the kitchen.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at Sherlock?" John's voice carried throughout the flat to where I was standing, just outside my door. Sherlock's reply just seemed to enrage John more and the next thing I heard was him storming out of the flat with the door slamming shut behind him.

"Sherlock?" I called tentatively as I padded towards the kitchen. He didn't reply and when I entered the kitchen I found out why. He was leaning over the sink with a tissue pressed to his lip which had started bleeding again. Sherlock turned to look at me with a look of sorrow on his face. " I just wished I could've been here and this would never had have happened."

"It's okay. I deleted it." I lied. He was still struggling with the tissue on his lip. "Here let me do that" he was about to protest when I shushed him and pushed him on to one of the kitchen chairs. I moved the first-aid box closer and set to work. John had taught me basic first aid and how to stitch people up due to the jobs that he and my dad both have, so this was nothing unusual.

The thought of Sherlock getting into trouble because of me was too much for me. As soon as I had pressed the ice to his black eye after finishing his lip, which finally stopped bleeding, I broke down in front of him. I collapsed into him as he put his arm around me. " I'm sorry, dad." Now it was Sherlock's turn to be surprised. "That's the first time you've called me dad. Ever." I had heard him perfectly and finished crying before I replied with " I know. It just didn't feel right, somehow before. And I don't really like calling you dad as it sounds too formal." Sherlock just nodded in with understanding.

We moved to the sofa to watch some crap T.V shows and shout at all the mistakes and stupid people the actors and actresses represented. We must have fell asleep because I woke to a slightly drunk John staggering through the door. I woke and realized Sherlock was asleep next to me so I got up slowly and managed not to disturb him, surprisingly, and made my way to help John walk to his room without breaking something as this would surely wake Sherlock and a grumpy, injured Sherlock is not someone you want to mess with.

I made my way to bed safe in the knowledge that I had my friend and father protecting me for the night. The next morning was as uneventful as any other day. No cases, no experiments and Sherlock shooting the wall. I tried that with my bow and arrow and it works for a bit and makes considerably less noise than the revolver, much to John's delight.

That's all I remember and I knew the next few months had been hard but we all got through it together and life resumed as usual in 221B. That was until John brought a woman home. This one was different though as he had done this before but she was very calm and didn't care about Sherlock and my deductions of her.

Who would've known that the sentence "Hi, my name is Mary Marston" would change all of our lives forever.