Consulting Daughter (BBC Sherlock)

My Name is Kyna

"You might be poor, your shoes might be broken, but your mind is a palace."

― Frank McCourt, Angela's Ashes

Unknown POV:

When she was born, I knew something was wrong. She didn't cry. She didn't even make any noise. Her eyes were wide open, staring right at me, like she was analyzing me. She finally broke contact, capturing another object, drinking in the light, blinking with soft lashes.

"Get her away from me." I choked. The nurse who had helped me birth her complied, but gave me a startled look.

"Don't you want to hold your daughter?" She asked, confusion crossing her features.

"No. I don't want to see her." I pushed the arms that held my baby away. The child... his child still wasn't crying.

"Very well."

When I did see my baby, it was behind a glass window, looking into the nursery of the hospital. Most parents know on sight who their baby is, but I did not; not until a small, curly, black haired girl turned her head towards me with those terrible blue eyes.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

I flinched at his voice from behind me. I turned to look at him, hesitation making me nervous, my thoughts twisting with how he would react, how he would speak to me.

He hadn't changed at all. He was still a twenty year-old genius and somehow I had become ensnared in his life.

I smiled bitterly, recalling our first meeting. "It never starts with a 'hello'." I sighed. "You were always too complicated."

His smile was more a grimace and it didn't reach his eyes. "I like complications." he tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over the baby... our baby. "But I have to say, she's... a mistake. I dislike what you've done."

My features hardened. "She's a baby. Not a mistake."

"If that helps you sleep at night." He was smirking, although he may have also been sneering. I was frightened of him, afraid.

My words wavered as I spoke. "She's just as much yours as she is mine."

He stepped forward so that we were close enough that our breaths collided. Even at so young an age, he was intimidating. His eyes were too deep.

"You drugged me and performed inappropriate acts on my person... The result is laying in that crib over there. She's not mine. She will never be mine. I hate her and never want to see her." he snarled.

"Sherlock." My voice broke. I knew he could hear the begging in my voice but I didn't care. "Sherlock, please. I don't want her either."

He shook his head. "Do what you want with her. You're finally paying for all the 'fun' you've had."

The door swung back and forth as he pressed through it in a haste.

Angrily I chewed on my lip, tasting iron blood. I had no way of taking care of this baby. I was only sixteen, and she was... She was just another thing to add onto my life.

If I could have just been a good girl none of this would have happened.

I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. My daughter had raised her tiny fist in air, waving it vaguely.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

I jerked and looked up to see a blonde nurse in a white uniform.

"Yes?" I cleared my throat. Hoping to conceal the fact that tears had just sprung into my eyes.

"We have some paperwork for you to complete. Would you like to name your daughter?"