August Holmes, Sherlock's Daughter

Chapter Six: Explosions and Chess

"No way!" I say amused,  looking at Ms. Hudson with the biggest grin on my face. 

"It's true. I use to take exotic dance classes when I was younger. I'm not quite sure about now, however. With my hip and all." She smiled at me and rose the cup of tea to her lips.

"Do you think you can teach-"

"NO!" Sherlock cut me off from where he was on the couch. I looked at Ms. Hudson and she winked at me, dropping the conversation. 

"Well I think I must be going, I got a load of laundry to do. I'll chat later, August, Sherlock." Ms. Hudson stood up and left the flat, closing the door softly. 

My phone chimed quietly and I saw that I got a text from Lizzie. 

Happy BIRTHDAY!!!! I miss and love you so much, I'll visit soon, but in the meantime, celebrate fourteen years like you mean it! I smiled down at the text and replied. I don't want to tell anyone else that it was my birthday. I didn't want anyone to feel obligated to get me anything.

Suddenly I heard gunshots ring through my ears and looked to see Sherlock shooting the wall. John came sprinting up the stairs and quickly glanced at me to make sure that I was alright.

"Sherlock, what the HELL are you doing?" John yelled, eyeing the gun in Sherlock's hands.

"Bored." Sherlock sulked. 

I shook my head and sighed, sometimes I forget that I was the youngest one of the group.

The detective sprung up and took two more shots out on the wall. "Bored!"

I got up from the kitchen and came to sit on the couch, watching as John unarmed Sherlock and removed the clip. 

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." Sherlock pouted. He always acted like a child when he had nothing to do, most people would find joy in having a break once in a while, but Sherlock always had to have something to occupy him.

"So you take it out on Ms. Hudson's wall?" I questioned, studying the holes from across of me.

"The wall had it coming." Sherlock ran his fingers along side the yellow smile that he had painted on the wallpaper. He turns to me and flopped on the couch I was sitting on. He smirked at me then pushed his toes in my face.

"Gross! Knock it off." I giggled, batting his feet away.

"What about that Russian case?" John asked, taking off his coat and placing it on his chair.

"Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." Sherlock had muttered, closing his eyes.

"Ah. Shame." John went in the kitchen. "Anything to eat? I'm starving." He opened the refridgerator but quickly shut it. "Oh... fuck. It's a head. A severed head!"

"Just tea for me thanks." Sherlock replied, eyes still closed.

"No, there is a head in the fridge." John had walked back into the living room, and stared at both me and Sherlock.

"Yes." Sherlock muttered, obviously having no concern about the body part in our fridge.

"A bloody head!" John shouted in exasperation.

"Well where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock looked at me, "You don't mind do you?"

"I don't think I have much of a choice." I replied, trying to push Sherlock's feet off my lap.

"See, she doesn't mind." The detective closed his eyes again.

John holds out his hands despairingly and looks back towards the fridge and sighed.