The Next Generation

The Next Generation Part 1

"She's beautiful, Molly," Sherlock said fondly, giving his wife a kiss on her forehead. Molly beamed with pride at her newborn daughter. "Five hours of labor. Oh, it was worth it," Molly sighed. She looked up at Sherlock and asked, "What shall we call her?" Sherlock tilted his head, and stroked the pure skin of his little girl. "Rose. Rose Mary Holmes," he decided. Molly's smile widened. "Yes, Rose. I love it. I love her." She gave Rose a light kiss on her little head.

She looked up at her husband. "We did it, love," she laughed. Sherlock leaned in and kissed her on the lips. "I love you, Molly," he whispered, forehead pressed against hers. Molly loved hearing those words. Suddenly, the door creaked open and two heads peeked inside. "Are we allowed entry?" John asked. Molly nodded, beckoning them in. Mary opened the door, and John followed her in, their two-year-old son Hamish in his arms. "Oh Molly dear, she's gorgeous," Mary stated, giving both Sherlock and Molly a kiss on the cheek.

"You know I had something to do with it, as well," Sherlock scoffed. "Oh hush, you didn't have to push her out now, did ya?" Mary retorted. Sherlock took Hamish from John's arms, saying, "And how's my fine nephew?" "You are aware that you're not technically related by blood, Sherlock?" John chuckled. "Oh, blood, blood's just a word. I prefer you three over my own relatives," Sherlock said. "Who dat?" little Hamish asked, pointing to Baby Rose. "That's Uncle Sherlock and Aunt Molly's baby, Hamish. Her name's Rose," Sherlock said. Hamish peered at the bundle of blankets that enveloped Baby Rose. "She's gots no hair," he observed. Mary laughed, adding, "He's as observant as his Uncle Sherlock." Molly gave the baby over to John, and he cradled her little head. "Oh, she is lovely. What are you calling her?" Molly rested her head against the pillow and said, "Rose Mary Holmes." Mary beamed, taking Molly's hand.

"Mrs. Hudson's never going to let you out of her sight," John said. "Yes, and Lestrade's going to hope she'll be a next generation detective," Sherlock smirked. "Are you going to let Mycroft come see her?" Molly asked. "Certainly not," Sherlock scoffed, patting young Hamish's head. Molly gave him a shrewd look, to which he replied, "But it's not like I could very well stop him." She smirked, taking Rose back into her arms.

(Rose's POV)

That was fifteen years ago. Mum and Dad have told me the story of my birth a thousand times. Mum stayed at the hospital overnight with me, so of course, Dad stayed with us (he doesn't trust hospitals). The next morning they took me home to 221 B Baker Street where I met Grandma Hudson, Uncle Lestrade, and Miss Irene. I've only met Miss Irene twice, she bought me a little dress when I was two, but her and Uncle John don't get along, so she doesn't come around much. Uncle Lestrade took me to his precinct when I was just five years old. Mum went ballistic when she found Dad let him. And Grandma Hudson always took care of me when Mum and Dad were out working. She taught me how to be a proper English lady, and told me stories about Dad and Uncle John's many adventure's solving crime.

I'd also met Uncle Mycroft several times. He gave me my first magnifying glass when I was eight. I used it to figure out who was sneaking all of Grandma Hudson's lemon bars (it was Uncle John). My life was cool and mysterious to other people, but rather boring and normal, at least to me. The best part was when Dad started taking me with him and Uncle John to crime scenes when I was twelve. I was small, and could fit into smaller spaces to look for clues. Studies show that the average 10 year old has seen a million murders on TV. In my case, I'd seen a couple hundred actual dead bodies by the time I was fifteen. This of course, made me a so-called "freak," at school. But, not only did I know how to deduce the hell out of anyone, I had an emotionless male giant as my childhood best-friend. 

Hamish Gregory Watson, towers over most of the kids at Elizabeth the First Prep School. He's 17, 2 years older, and a good 5 inches taller than me. Now I am pretty tall for a girl, at about five foot nine, but he still towers over me at 6 foot 2. He looks more like my father than I do, and has eyes like his mum. But his hairstyle resembles my dad's, super curly and a little unruly.