Sherlock's daughter.

Meet.

Vivian:

(Emma Watson... 😆 she has johns last name in real life but is Sherlock's daughter in the fan fiction)
(Rest of the characters are the same as in the tv show Sherlock)

My name is Vivian Rose Holmes. My mum has died. She left me a letter explaining who my father was and where to find him. I'm 16 today.

The cold winter air surrounded me. I walked down the raining streets of England. My heels splashed against the puddles. My hand brushed a stray hair out of my face. My hand slipping into my coat pocket where I had hid my gun. Mum insisted that I have one when I turned 13. A car zipped past me, lightly splashing the sidewalk. I turned the corner to see my destination. I knocked on the door. A kind lady opens the door and leads me to Sherlock Holmes room.
"Sherlock!! Mr. Holmes!!" She calls.
"Come in," a man waved.
Was he my father?
"Ah Mr. Watson. This young lady is here to see," she began.
"Sherlock Yes," he nodded.
The lady left and I stood there with Mr. Watson.
"I'm Vivian, but everyone calls me Vi," I shook his hand.
"Dr. John Watson," he nodded.
"Well, Dr. Wat-" I began.
"John please," he interrupted.
"John, is Mr. Holmes here?" I asked.
"I've done it John!! I've figured it out!!" A man yelled walking in.
"Sherlock. There is a lady here to see you," John nudged him.
"I'm Vivian," I smiled.
"Ah. But as I was saying," Sherlock waved me off.
"Vivian Rose Holmes," I spoke.

~~~~~~Sherlock's P.O.V.~~~~
I stared at the girl with brown hair.
"Excuse me?" John asked.
"My name is Vivian Rose Holmes," she spoke.
"Are you- Is she a relative of," he began.
"Who is your mother!?" I asked.
Stupid question. She had her mother's hair. My eyes.
"Irene Adler," she spoke.
John looked at me with wide eyes.
"Can you give us a moment?" He asked.
She nodded her brown hair bouncing as she walked into the kitchen.
"Is she- Is she," John seemed to be stuck on the words.
"Of course she is my daughter John!!! Look at her!!" I paced.
"What are you going to do?" John sat.
"Vivian!" I yelled.
She walked in.
"Where is your mother!?" I asked.
"Its Vi... and um... my mum died last week," she hesitated.

~~~~~~~Vi's P.O.V.~~~~~
I put my hand in my jean pocket.
"And your here because?" Sherlock asked.
"Because I'm 16 and your my father," I replied.
Sherlock leaned against his desk.
"You don't want me here do you?" I asked.
"Who told you that?" John asked.
"Sherlock did. He paced which is reserved normally for thinking and leaning against a desk normally means that he doesn't know what to do.. and before he asked where my mum was he texted her phone," I sighed.
John starred at me.
"She's. She's like you!!!" John spoke.
"Of course that type of intelligence is normally genetic," I shrugged.
"Are you a ... like a detective too?" John asked.
"Sometimes... I mean I was the amateur detective in my old city but I wished to be a journalist," I replied.
John nodded. Sherlock still hadn't moved he seemed to be thinking.
"No I am not still in secondary school. I graduated 2 years ago," I replied to his mental question.
He glanced up.
The phone rang. Sherlock jumped to answer it.