Sherlock's Daughter

Camisado

CHAPTER SONGS:

BUILD GOD THEN WE'LL TALK- PANIC! AT THE DISCO

NICOTINE-PANIC! AT THE DISCO

GIRL THAT YOU LOVE- PANIC! AT THE DISCO

My mind becomes clear on what happened only hours ago when I wake up to the sound of the heart monitor beside me.

"She has tremendous damage done to her wrist. Multiple stitches at an average of 13 per cut was made, you are lucky that the long vertical one was only half an inch deep, also the deep horizontal one had stitches already in place. What happened there? She lost too much blood, we had to make multiple blood transfusions to save her." A young Liverpool accent, a young woman that is a doctor judging by the monotone voice she uses for the delivery of the news, asks to someone she is also a smoker about 22, I know, because just like Sherlock, I'm never wrong. My eyes won't open, and Sherlock does it all the time so I figure that's what she is doing.

To my surprise a baritone voice that only belongs to one person responds, "We've...uh...had our issues, but of course that's none of your business." Sherlock retorts. Before this can turn into a deduction convention I use as much strength as I can to force my eyes open, a burning light hurts my eyes as my eyes constrict to keep out all the light. And pain shoots up my right arm as I let out something that is originally supposed to be words.

"She's awake." My dad yells out the doorway, his jumper looks tighter, gained 2 pounds. My dad, John, rushes to my side, "Are you okay?" his puppy eyes beg me not to answer sarcastically, but I ignore them.

"Sure, I'm fine, I mean I wasn't stabbed multiple times or anything, nah, I'm FINE." I shrug off playfully in a sarcastic tone that John looks at me sternly.

"Phone." John demands as I knit my eyebrows in confusion. Was I getting...grounded?

"What?" I'm taken off gaurd and stare at him for a second.

"Sherlock and I have decided that we are both going to take time off from out jobs to address some issues, including your mouthing off." John raises his eyebrows.

"Aw, come on. Sherlock has a mouth. I'm sure you shut him up just fine." I smirk, knowing that my dad has never real gotten used to the fact that he fell in love...with a man.

Sherlock jolts up, "YOUNG LADY!" Sherlock yells, leaving the room silent.

"In 2 weeks you both will be back to your normal jobs ignoring me...I can act like this 'parenting' thing y'all are trying out is working but we all know it's a load of bullshit." I scoff, meaning evry word. They did this all the time, dangling the threat of actually caring Infront of me. It's tiring actually.

I get no response from the detective and his blogger. I give a large sigh in confirmation.

"When can I just go home?" I whine, pulling out my IV and sitting up, soon regretting the action and feel a wave a nausea wash over me, I slam my weak body back against the pilloe.

"When you can sit up without that happening." Sherlock snorts. I really hope they give me more morphine, because if they realized how many pain killers I used to take for fun they would really have to give me like three times the normal person.

"Ha. Ha. So was the murderer caught and arrested?" I beg Sherlock to tell me, the pain in my wrist increasing gradually.

"Yes, you have to testify at his trial though." John steps in the conversation.

"Does this mean nice clothes?" I sigh as John nods, I hit my head against my pillow in frustration, "Why can't Sherlock do it, he was more lucid than I was." I put of a façade of happiness, but mentally that night terrifies me, and not much scares me, I though that Sherlock was going to die but then it was all a trick, he let me slip to the brink of death for a case. Would he be willing to let be die for a case?

FILLER CHAPTERRRR AND IT IS COMPELETLY UNEDITED SO YEAH....ALSO CAN YOU ALL BE LIKE MY BBYS AND GO READ "GOING BACK TO SHERLOCK" BY @FIREANDPOISONIVY IT'S REALLY GOOD AND IT DESERVES MORE READS THAN IT HAS! LOVE Y'ALL, THANKS FOR ALL THE READS I CAN'T EVEN EXPLAIN MY GRATITUDE