Sherlock Imagines [ Book 1 ]

Fatherly Love (Part 4)

type: four-shot I guess, sorry I had this idea and couldn't not do it

Pairing: johnlock, adopted!reader

Warnings: none

The adoptive services warned him it would happen.

He knew it would happen eventually, but it didn't keep it from hurting.

It all started when he saw a little web hidden behind a stack of books, before he could fully read it she was blocking it in an instant.

She was searching for her biological father, and John didn't like it. He sat down on the couch, she was finishing up in the bathroom from her shower. "Sherlock I don't like it." He grumbled, leaning into the detective's side, his cup of tea in hand.

"It's a natural instinct to want to know where we come from." Sherlock didn't look up from his book.

"I know but-" before he couldn't finish his rant she appeared in the living room, a pair of sweats and a t shirt that was too big slung over her small form. Her hair wrapped up in a towel. "Everything alright?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Everything's fine." Sherlock remarked, turning the page.

"Right." She clearly knew everything wasn't but didn't say a word, she walked and plopped down on John's chair. She picked up her own book, and they rested in a peaceful silence.

At least until there was a knock at the door, the knock that changed everything.

"You didn't tell me we were having company!" She squealed, racing out of the room. John rolled his eyes, slowly standing and setting his cup down on the side table. He opened the door, feeling his blood run cold at what he found there.

His grip on the door tightened, narrowing his eyes. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He growled, Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Standing, he approached the door from behind, his reaction very similar to John.

"Sorry to interrupt whatever is going on in there." Jim cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, very different from his usual smoothness. He seemed... Nervous.

"What do you want?" John hissed.

"I came for my daughter." He stood up straighter, looking them both in the eye.

John could feel the color drain from his face. "Your daughter isn't here."

"Oh, you do have a (first name) Brook in here, don't you?" He questioned bitterly.

Sherlock seemed to realize what he was hinting at and pushed past John. "You're the one who left her. You don't get to take her back." He growled, his baritone lowering.