Sophia Holmes and the Other Woman (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter One

A few days later, dad and I are consoling our boredom as my bruises swell down by doing experiments with eyeballs when we hear a loud noise coming from downstairs. I raise an eyebrow at dad - as much as I can while wearing safety glasses - and he cocks his ear to listen.

"Is that Mrs Hudson?" I asks, concerned. It sounds almost as though she's laughing, but it's so hysterical that I can't be sure whether it is, or whether she's possibly being tortured. 

"I think it might be," dad says, continuing to burn the optic nerve of the eye with a blowtorch. I hear the door go downstairs and hear John checking up on her so think nothing of it and continue to dissect my eye. A few moments later, John trots up the stairs. 

"Sherlock?"

"What was that noise downstairs?" dad shouts down to him, and John follows his voice into the kitchen where we stand up to the table.

John frowns as he watches us before answering. "Er, it was Mrs Hudson laughing."

"Sounded like she was torturing an owl," I answer.

"Yeah," John replies, amused. "Well, it was laughter."

"Could have been both," dad adds. 

John nods towards the eyes. "Busy?"

"Just occupying myself," dad says. He lifts his head and looks dramatically towards the ceiling. "Sometimes, it's so-o-o hard not smoking." The eyeball slips out of the tweezers and drops with a splash into his mug of tea on the table. Dad looks down at it in disappointment. "Oh."

"Mm-hmm," John says in amusement, but his lips are tight, as if he's anxious about something. He seems to have gotten over our battle with the Avengers already, though is also nursing a few aches and pains from the revisit to the battlefield. "Mind if I interrupt?"

Dad puts down the tweezers and gesturing to the chair at the end of the table. "Er, be my guest." He switches off the blowtorch and puts it down while John walks over and pulls back the chair from the table. Dad picks up the mug the eye just fell into and offers it to him. "Tea?"

"Er ..." John shakes a hand to decline the offer so dad puts down the mug and we take off our glasses. I take a seat at the end of the table to listen in as John sits down. "So. The big question."

Dad turns to face him. "Mm-hm."

John fidgets, folding his hands and putting them onto the table in front of him. "The best man." I frown, not sure how this is a big question.

"The best man?" dad repeats, sharing my confusion.

"What do you think?"

"Billy Kincaid," dad replies instantly.

John looks taken aback. "Sorry, what?"

"Billy Kincaid," dad repeats, quick-fire, "the Camden Garrotter. Best man I ever knew. Vast contributions to charity, never disclosed." John frowns. Clearly not the answer he was looking for. "Personally managed to save three hospitals from closure and ran the best and safest children's homes in north England." John tiredly rubs his fingers over his eyes and dad grimaces briefly. "Yes, every now and again there'd be some garrottings, but stacking up the lives saved against the garrottings, on balance I'd say ..."

"For my wedding!" John interrupts. "For me. I need a best man." That does make more sense.

"Oh, right," dad nods.

"Maybe not a garrotter," John smiles.

"Gavin?" dad suggests.

"Who?"

"Gavin Lestrade? He's a man, and good at it." I rub my brow in disbelief. John exchanges a look with me, and I smirk.

"It's Greg. And he's not my best friend."

"Oh, Mike Stamford, I see. Well, he's nice, um, though I'm not sure how well he'd cope with all ..."

"No," John interrupts again. "Mike's great, but he's not my best friend." Dad looks ahead thoughtfully as he tries to name another one of John's friends, despite the fact the answer is blatantly obvious. "Look, Sherlock, this is the biggest and most important day of my life."

Dad pulls a dubious face. "Well ..."

"No," John says, pointing, "it is! It is, and I want to be up there with the two people that I love and care about most in the world." Well all the little shippers are going to be over the moon with that statement.

"Yes," dad says, seeming like he finally understands, "Well Sophie can't do it: it has to be a man - hence best man."

I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing and exchange another disbelieving look with John.

"No, not Sophie," John says. "Mary Morstan ..."

"Yes," dad says, still oblivious and waits for him to continue.

John sighs tightly, "... and ..." He looks up at dad, who is still patiently waiting for further information. Eventually John pulls in a long breath, "... you."

Dad blinks rapidly several times but otherwise doesn't move or react. He can't compute it. He stands, frozen solid, staring blankly in John's direction but not actually looking at him. John taps his foot patiently, used to dad's unusual behaviour and I smirk.

After a few moments of standing motionless, John tries to break him out by saying, "Sherlock," but dad doesn't react. John looks at me as the silence drags on for long seconds. "That's getting a bit scary now."

After a few more seconds, dad's brain finally begins to reboot and he takes a breath. He swallows and narrows his eyes slightly as he refocuses and looks at John. "So, in fact ..." he says before pausing and thinking again for a moment. "You-you mean ..."

"Yes," John says.

"I'm your ... best ..."

"... man," John finishes.

"... friend?" dad finishes instead, almost simultaneously.

"Yeah, 'course you are," John smiles. "'Course you're my best friend."

Without looking down - still trying to comprehend - dad absently picks up the mug of tea from the table and raises it towards his mouth. John and I watch with interest while he takes a long slurping drink and then swallows.

"Well, how was that?" John asks, amused.

Dad licks his lips, thinks about it for a moment, then nods. "Surprisingly okay."

"So you'll have to make a speech, of course," John adds, and we lose dad again for a moment as he goes offline, then looks at John.

"There'll be ... people?"

"'Course there'll be people," John laughs. "It's a wedding, there's going to be people."

I watch dad, uncertainly. Hopefully he won't back out like he did with John's birthday. He owes him at least that much.

Eventually he nods. "I can do that."

John looks almost as surprised as me. "You will?" Dad nods. "That's excellent, thank you."

"That does mean I get to help plan the wedding, doesn't it?"

My jaw drops and John looks slightly worried. "I guess it does." He looks back to me and we exchange a dubious look.